Duskfallby Celestial SwordsmanChaptersStrangerPrisonDriftDerpyJourneyPonyvilleMagician's MisfortunesThe SecretHoldShellshockPrecipiceDamage ControlDark RescueDisciplesDark MagicThe VaultPerilous VisionThe Fourth DoorConvergencePela HaxiCaptured?Loose FriendsParty KillerEnmity RoadUniversal SoldierDreams and VeilsRemnantsPrize of a LieRuhamaHeavy ChoicesCelestia's VictoryBlood for TimeDespairInterruptedBroken MirrorsFault in the MendGoddess on TrialFly in the OintmentColdLongingDawnDear TwilightCelestia's Descent (Intro)BubblesThe Goddess ReturnsFar Side of the MoonCreatures StirringDomestically IncorrectStrangerChapter 2 Hooffalls split the young silence of the chamber. Both metal-clad and unshod hoofs clattered and thudded over marble and luxuriant carpet. Guards and servants alike rushed into the inner palace as soon as the sun fell backwards into the morning horizon. Celestia had never let that happen. Guards brandished weapons and swept through the halls. Finding only unlit rooms of luxury items, they rushed back as if they had been tricked by a phantom assassin. Servants ran everywhere in a panic, checking every closet and cupboard. Shoving desperate snouts in the face of logic, they turned over every cushion, opened every drawer, and peered into the fireplace. General Armor strode into the middle of the confusion and stood contemplatively. The tall white unicorn was encased in the brightest burnished gold, in a suit of armor which covered much more of his body than that which he wore as Shining Armor, Captain of the Guard. Under his shell, lively blue eyes appraised the scene, and instinctively took charge of the response. “Get an ESP in here,” he demanded to no one in particular. Gun barrels and accusing eyes possessed every window, but all that was seen outside was the angrily buzzing swarm of pegasi guards. A soldier took a step into the pleasure room where a bruised and exhausted colt still groaned on the floor. Before he could process the sight, three of the agents that supplied special services to the Princess pulled him back. Two of them went in, and the last shut the door behind them, making it clear to the other guard that this room need not be mentioned. One guard moved to look down off the balcony. Splash, squish. “Oh my goddess, what is this—“ he yelled, pulling his hoof up out of a glistening, tumorous mass. “I –“ (cough, cough) “found something!” The General, seizing upon the first important piece of information past the inane “Clear, clear! Where is she?” approached the balcony. The embarrassed warrior who had discovered whatever it was began to heave and wretch, overcome by ghastly vapors from the oozing mass. “Not in the shit,” General Armor ordered, “It’s evidence.” The guard leaned on the railing and vomited profusely down onto those investigating the scene from below. Barf came as a relief to his senses, as it was much more pleasant than the other substance. The General breathed deeply of the fumes; they stung his senses too, but not like they did to the others. It was familiar, and carried a heavy weight of conflicting emotion. Techs arrived, waving ESP detectors that clicked and pulsed green light. A pony in a white coat and goggles approached the General. His detector lit up red and screeched at some disturbance. Aimed at the viscous, caustic slime, it read “999” and “0.” “What is it?” Armor turned and demanded. “I don’t know, sir. There’s no evidence of a teleport on this floor, but right here I’m showing data like I’ve never seen. We’ll have to submit this… to full sci/magic screening.” He stooped to gather some of the mysterious substance into a vial before backing away gasping. “Look,” he gestured at something as he recovered his breath. The points of Celestia’s golden crown protruded from the semisolid slime. Disturbed, and with a cool wrath pooling in his chest, the General left the east side to gaze out a western window. There the crescent moon hung uncertainly. It had retreated from the rays of dawn, but stopped when the light had unexpectedly relented of its pursuit. Lit now from below, the crescent of the moon shone dimly and reflected on the broad solar insignia wrought onto his chest. He lowered his horn, onto which was forged a long blade. “You can smile now,” he addressed moon. “I don’t know what happened, but I know you’re behind it,” he growled. Two floors below, in a brightly lit hall adjoining the throne room, one of the guards who had remained there was drawn to a disturbance from the wall. The pegasus approached a massive relief carving of the Griffin War and put his ear close the memorial. The stone muffled a series of thuds and angry yells. The guard silently drew out a ceremonial sword and waved to alert another warrior to the intrusion. The second guard took up a position behind a corner where he could cover his partner with his pistol. One of the four panels of the relief swung out from the wall to reveal a hidden stairway. Two earth ponies in suits half-dragged a struggling creature into the open. The pegasus guard lunged forward, but restrained his blade at the last moment. One of the agents released his grip on the captive and reached into his vest to flash a badge. The guards in the hall immediately shifted their focus to the wiry figure, which sprang back up from the floor with renewed energy. It turned as if it would flee, but the four royal officers hemmed it in. It was a pegasus, though a strange one; it planted its hooves firmly, as if preparing to fight. The unusual shape of its face made it seem androgynous, but it was a female. She was short, thin, and dripping wet. Ribs showed past her matted coat, which was dull gray streaked with white. Her wings stretched out feebly, unable to fill the space behind her; they did not look like they would lift her. Her eyes were completely filled with black. White only showed in their very corners as they shifted from threat to threat. Clearly no one was intimidated. She quickly shifted to a docile attitude, bowing away from them as she accepted her position. “I caught it coming down the secret passage from the Princess’s chambers,” the agent informed the others. “A little short for a Lunar assassin,” a guard remarked. The other agent conferred to his partner, “She could be one of Celestia’s pets. One of the cages was open.” The guard with the sword declared, “It’s a nightsider if I’ve ever seen one. Just look at it.” He held the point of his weapon to her throat. He considered claiming the honor of dispatching one of her majesty’s enemies. The agent who had apprehended her stayed him, explaining, “It could know something.” She was led away from the audience chamber. They steered her around several corners to an unmarked door. It opened to a dark, rough passageway that fit ill with the decorum around it. She hesitated at the unfriendly entrance, but a rough shove from the guard motivated her inside. They walked down another narrow staircase. As her eyes recovered from the previous light, she began to see farther, but all that came to view was more stairs. As they continued their shadowy descent, the passage was still unfamiliar but she knew where it would lead. Shaking off paniced thoughts, she realized somewhat disconnectedly that the darkness was more comfortable anyway. A flickering lamp half-heartedly illuminated an iron door next to a barred window. After providing authentication to a face behind the window, the guard instructed, “Put her in the south wing. Don’t let her mix with the other prisoners.” “This one? To the stale house?” the gatekeeper wondered. Despite his surprise, his quill moved mechanically across the forms on his desk. “Something weird is going down,” the guard alerted. “Tell the warden to expect more soon.” The door opened and the pegasus stepped reluctantly inside. Somepony came in behind her and cuffed her wings together tightly. She stared numbly ahead as a pair of sheers clicked open behind her. It was protocol for inmates to have their mane and tail shaved upon internment. A hoof brushed lazily across her short, scraggly mane, and a voice muttered, “What’s the point?” Continuing past the offices and through more bolted gates, she reached a four-story cell block, with several aisles through the stacked cells. She took a dejected step down the yawning central aisle, but a sharp check to her side suggested she divert to the left. A vault was opened, from which came a more pungent odor than the main cell block, and finally they came to an empty cell inside. “You’re S 92,” her escort stated as he opened the bars and flung her inside before she could enter voluntarily. She picked herself up off the floor as the lock clicked and her captor was already turning to leave. The cell was made of stone and completely empty. The only features besides the bars in the front were a small hole near the back and a vent at each side of the floor that connected the cells. She held her eyes shut for a minute and then peered through the shadows. When she could make out eyes in the cell across from her she became uncomfortable and shifted her attention to her own accommodations. Closer inspection yielded little that was useful; the floor, walls, and ceiling were indeed bare. The walls were not completely empty, however. Previous occupants had somehow scratched messages and pictures into the hard stone. One side was filled with many unintelligible imprecations against “Onyx”. The other inscriptions were even more encouraging. At the back, “DIE FASTER” was etched angrily in large letters. Tick marks started on one wall, crossed the back, and started on the other before falling into a despondent spiral. She sat on the cold floor and began to do nothing. “Since I’ve got so much to do and so little time,” she mused sarcastically, “I better not get ahead of myself.” She was determined to remain still and quiet for as long as she could stand. She was doing quite well. Yep. Nothing. A gust blew in from the vent and chilled her aft sections uncomfortably. “I can’t be moved that easy,” she decided. Another low blow came. For some time she sat stubbornly as the wind rolled in almost regularly from the end of the south wing. Growing tired of pointless endurance, she retreated to the back of the cell, where she hoped for shelter. Unfortunately, pressing close to the wall showed that the stone was colder than the wind. She tried to balance the two. “Now how long can I sit here? Can this be part of my routine? Yay,” she thought. The little inmate furrowed her brow, frustrated with herself for accepting such lameness. “I wonder how long we’ll get food when things go south,” she pondered importantly. With some satisfaction she guessed she would last longer than a lot outside the jail, as if she had orchestrated this on purpose. “Is that wrong? What is wrong?” She blinked uncertainly. Blinking made her eyes sting. “That’s stupid, since when?” she protested. Just then something caught her eye. There was some new light coming in. It was very weak, but was it growing? Although it was indirect light, she knew instinctively that it wasn’t just any light—it was sunlight. It was coming in the vent with the wind. She lay on the floor to peer through the opening. She was in luck, view-wise. She was only a few cells away from what must be the south end. There was just enough of that precious glow outside to outline the horizon. Another gust rudely rushed into her face. She could put up with it for the payoff. From what she could put together, she was in a part of a jail on the edge of the cliffs where the south wind blew strong. She let herself relax, gazing through the bars into her private scene of the unnatural dusk. For a moment her eyes closed and mind stopped, as she edited out a puff of interrupting air. She didn’t think the light should be there, but instead of questioning it she simply took it in. Darkness was comfortable but empty; now she finally had something to look at. It suited her well. It was soothing and peaceful. As long as she watched, she felt less soulless. “I like dusk,” she whispered, and drifted to sleep. Author's Note http://celestial-swordsman.deviantart.com/gallery/#/art/Dusk-s-Detention-385022328?_sid=2cc3bfe6 Here's a chapter pic. PrisonChapter 3 Something interrupted her nap. Was it the killer cramp she was getting from those wing restraints? Something seemed to be blocking the vent. She stared until she could make out what it was. Right on the other side of the bars an eye stared at her. She almost jumped back but restrained herself to only pull back slightly. She didn’t want to offend any potential comrades, but one couldn’t be too careful in the “stale house”. A stringy colt voice lamented, “I lost the last one. She was here a long time. They finally gave me a replacement.” “I’m sorry,” a very confused pegasus replied. The eye blinked and said, “So you’ll make it up to me, right?” She could only reply, “Um,” and start to catch that she might not like where this was going. “I smelled you were a bitch,” he said abruptly. “Are you a good little bitch?” “Would I be here if I was?” she deflected. “Mmm, dirty,” he uttered through licked lips. “Shit, he wasn’t supposed to like that,” she thought quickly. “I should really be leaving now.” “Be bad for Onyx,” he urged. Before she could move away, black hooves shot through the grate and grabbed her head. He yanked her face to the bars and kissed her, trying to work his tongue into her mouth. She pulled away but couldn’t get out of his grasp. She turned her face away but he forced it back. The desperate pegasus drove her own hoof through the bars to punch his face away. She flung her head back into the musty air of her own cell and took a nervous gasp. Onyx had her hoof before she could extricate it, and dragged her awkwardly into the dividing wall. She crawled forward to pry her leg away. He let her succeed, only to latch ahold of her hind leg. He grasped her waist and she felt the wet of his mouth under her hip, trying to find its way between her legs. She braced her free legs against the wall and pushed as hard as she could. Finally she broke free and sprang across the cell where she leaned panting against the opposite wall. Onyx spat on the floor and complained sharply about the taste of “mummy shit”. As she recovered her breath she stole a glance back at the site of the attack. Faint streaks remained where she had scrambled against the wall around that awful hole. She looked down at her trembling hoof and scraped it against the floor. It left the same mark. She suddenly appreciated the literature scrawled on her wall. She wanted to add further insults. Words would not come, and she only drew out her first tick mark. She sobbed softly. Tears carried away the sting that still hounded her eyes. Sick laughter from her unwelcome neighbor assaulted her ears. She knew the eye was back but she could not look. “Hey, mummy shit,” he cooed. “I can’t help but notice your flanks. They’re flat, and they’re blank,” he taunted. “Blank flank bitch,” he jeered in an almost singsong voice. Picking her eyes off the floor as little as possible, she turned and studied her assets. No cutie mark. “I know you know your talent. Accept it. Bitches are only good for fucking,” he mocked, “Come here and play like a cutie mark crusader.” Finding herself with no reply, she whined and moved to the back of the cell. She maneuvered to a position where he couldn’t see her, which unfortunately was only a small space at the corner of the wall between their cells. She lay down. She could find no reassurance in her thoughts and decided she didn’t want to talk to herself. Weariness slowly overcame fear and she fell to sleep once more. She saw Onyx reaching through the vent and stretching out his foreleg toward her. He was a couple feet short of reaching her, but it was still unsettling. She could not be certain if it was a dream or a brief waking moment. A guard roughly shook her awake. She was led out of her cell down several poorly lit halls to a small square concrete room. Her escort sat her down in one of two chairs by a table. A dark pony smoked a cigarette in the opposite chair and placed a hoof on an odd device on the table. With a click, a bright light pierced her deep eyes. She winced and squinted. “You are going to tell me everything you know,” the gravelly voice on the other side of the curtain of light declared. “This little thing is a magic lie detector,” he said as he turned a dial on the box before him. “We’re going to start off real simple. You’re going to give me straight answers to a few straight questions before we get to the good stuff.” She quickly weighed her options—was the truth worse than the risk of being caught? It was time to gamble, and she would have to do this right the whole way through. “What is your name?” Here we go, she thought, and replied, “Dusk.” “What is your cutie mark?” “Um, silver dollar.” Good thing she was gray. “What is your occupation?” She paused and tilted her head. “Occupation?” “Yes, occupation.” He said in condescending tone, “Your job. How do you earn money?” She thought back to her previous answer. “Oh yes. I remember… bits. I moved a lot of bits. I must have been a cashier. That was so long ago…” she trailed off cryptically. “What are you now? What do you do?” “Being good for her,” she answered reverently. “I’m whatever shewants me to be.” He raised his eyebrows but continued. “Are you a pegasus?” “Yes.” “What color is your mane?” “No color.” This was thin ice. He didn’t react though. “What is your gender?” Now I’m screwed. “Male…” “Now I’m going to ask you some questions, and you are NOT going to tell me the truth. You better lie, or I’ll catch you,” he threatened, moving to the next phase. Dammit! What kind of a horrible idiot is this colt!? I’m that ugly?! She grimaced as she lost any residual self-esteem. Forget the whole charade, I’d have been happier if he caught me. “Were you a cashier?” “No.” “Are you a pegasus?” “No.” “What color is your mane?” “Rainbow.” “What is your gender?” “Female.” She almost lost it. Pulling that insult twice was totally uncalled for. “Good.” He puffed his cigarette and turned the dials on the detector to compensate. He leaned forward to stare “Dusk” in her squinting eyes. “Now for the good stuff. You’re going to tell me the truth, and I know how you think now.” “Do you hate Celestia?” “No, of course not.” Yikes, what a mind trip. “She’s the best Princess.” “Did Nightmare Moon send you here?” “Nightmare Moon is a bad girl.” “Are you a Lunar assassin?” “I’m a good girl. Please don’t say ‘Lunar’ anymore. I don’t know what it means, but she doesn’t like it when we say that word.” “Where were you yesterday at sunrise?” “I was waiting in my good girl box,” she replied with a vacuous, pleasant expression. “That’s not where we found you,” he accused. “I was. But then everything started shaking, and my door broke open. I was afraid, so I ran away.” “Did you notice anything else unusual besides the shaking?” “No.” She was almost through. “Do you know what happened to Celestia?” “No.” Crapcrapcrapcrap! That’s totally true. The detector buzzed. “Aha, the truth comes out. That is most certainly a lie. So tell me what happened to Celestia.” “I don’t know,” she repeated. “I am not amused,” he bit through his cigarette. “I am investigating acts of sedition and terrorism. If you hide anything from me, you will never see the sun again.” He might need to reconsider his threats, Dusk lamented privately. “What happened to Celestia!?” he barked, and pounded his hoof on the table. Between that persistent stinging, the glaring light, and genuine fear, tears began to pour down from the little pegasus face. “I don’t know!” “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this…” he said insincerely. He got up and retrieved something from the back wall. He came back to show off a taser and some pliers in the beam of light. “No, no!” She begged, “It’s really true, I don’t know what happened.” The machine buzzed condemningly. “I’ve been lying the whole time!” she confessed. It buzzed and buzzed. He pushed her backwards out of her chair and held her against the floor. “Stop lying to me!” he yelled, and moved the pliers towards her face. “My cutie mark!” she screamed. “What?” he blurted, taken aback by the sheer irrelevance. “I don’t have a cutie mark!” The whole thing with the blank flanks was crap, but she was excited about it for now. The machine still buzzed. He backed off and studied her ass intently. “The silver dollar?” There was obviously nothing there. She burst out, “I don’t have a cutie mark, I’m really scared, my head hurts, my eyes hurt, I’m hungry, thirsty, and telling the truth.” The machine buzzed at each statement. He frowned and dropped the pliers. “Do you know what happened to Celestia?” He was catching on. “I have no idea,” she said firmly. The ironic buzz came again. “I do hate Celestia, but I didn’t do anything to her. I don’t know who did, and I don’t know what they did.” Lack of knowledge was really starting to be an asset. She crossed her front hooves, and protested, “And I’M A MARE.” The detector almost came unhooked at that. The interrogator blushed slightly but tried to continue unaffected, “Is your mane white?” She peeked up at some stray hairs. “Yeah. I guess it is.” “Are you a pegasus?” “No. Yes. No.” Three buzzes. There was no end to the embarrassing moments here. “You are a crap witness,” the interrogator confidently proclaimed. He slammed her against the floor again as he laid her aside with disgust. “This isn’t an asylum! Someone is wasting my time.” He wiped his hooves together to rid them of little white flecks, but they only smeared. She pushed her chest up on one hoof and rubbed her head with the other. Against her better judgment, she expressed sincerely, “I was serious about being thirsty. I would die for a glass of water right now.” She was promptly kicked out of the prison onto a dark alley in Canterlot. They hadn’t let her have any water, but she wouldn’t have to go thirsty because of the rain. This was going to be miserable. DriftChapter 4 On the outside Dusk was free, but she still felt trapped. She had left her purpose behind her, that is, if she had truly ever known her purpose. What was done was done, and she couldn’t go back. She stood in the rain unmotivated and directionless. She let it soak through her fur and hoped it might wash her clean. Her dry skin drank in the water along with its chill. A shiver reminded her of the physical limitations on her emotional languor. She would have to take care of herself. She took shelter under an overhang on a building she did not care to identify. Water rushed through the gutter. It couldn’t be clean, but she was parched. She lapped it up greedily. It wasn’t so bad except for the aftertaste. She looked back at the entrance to the prison. “There goes my room and board,” she groaned half-sarcastically. She reviewed it in her mind: hard stone, wind, interrogations, tight rations, Onyx… “I can do better,” she concluded, “or at least I can’t do worse.” She looked around to take in the urban scene and gain some direction. Her mental map for this part of the city was blank. Dusk didn’t even know what she wanted. Feeling restless, she picked a street and began to walk down it. If she couldn’t have any direction, she could at least have a direction. What was she looking for? What did ponies in her position do? When they were sick and tired and fed up but didn’t have anything to do with their time, where did they go? As she rounded a corner, a neon sign announced “Prancing Pony ” and “Spirits”. That seemed to make sense to Dusk. She pulled the door open and ducked in out of the rain. There was little more light here than in the prison, but a lot more color. Bottles clinked and patrons murmured over their beverages. She shook some of the water out of her fur and took her place at the bar. The bartender, a lean old colt with a balding mane, approached and asked, “What’ll you have?” “Give me something hard,” she requested. He gave her a squint he reserved for a particular kind of customer. “I’ve got the good stuff,” he promised, but continued wisely, “but that ain’t cheap. Show me some cash.” “Huh?” she weakly replied. “No bits no beer,” he declared. “I don’t give nothing for pity.” He turned and resumed his other duties. “Crap,” Dusk thought, “Should have thought of that. How am I supposed to get bits?” A blue mare in a red dress entered and sat at the other end of the bar. She leaned on the bar with her hoof on her neck. The bartender didn’t approach her; she had a purse but it remained dormant. Soon a handsome colt approached the bar and asked for a shot. He turned to the pretty pony, smiled, and offered, “Should I make it two?” She tossed a purple curl of her mane and shot back, “If you want a chance.” Dusk watched her with interest as she received drink after drink. Dusk leaned against the bar and put her hoof on her neck in imitation of the beauty, who was her role model for now. A tall colt in a leather jacket got up from a table and slammed some bits down on the counter nearby. “Barkeep, I need another round,” he ordered. Dusk put on her best airs and enticed, “Make it two—if you want a chance.” He reeled back from the still-dripping, gaunt pegasus figure beside him. As he accepted his drink from the bartender, he motioned to Dusk and remarked, “Watch out, you’ve got a real spitfire here.” The old bartender glowered at her wrathfully and called to some corner, “Big Happy, I got one for you.” “Big Happy” loomed out of the shadows and grabbed Dusk’s shoulder. The bouncer shoved her over to the door and flung her into the street. She splashed down into the gutter. She lay where she fell and soaked up the downpour. A healthy gray pegasus with a blond mane and tail dropped out of the sky and alighted by the bar. She took a few steps toward the door before she stopped herself and shook her head. The stranger stood heavy with internal struggle until she spotted Dusk. She considered the bar and then the little reject. Dusk looked up as the stranger approached her and asked, “Are you okay?” Dusk shook her head honestly. The stranger came up alongside Dusk and stretched out her wing to shield Dusk’s face from the rain. She introduced herself, “I’m Ditzy Doo.” Dusk couldn’t help but stare at Ditzy’s eyes, which were somehow looking different directions. Anyway, Dusk was in no position to judge whether any pony’s eyes were strange, and Ditzy’s disjointed gaze was soft. “Well, ponies who don’t like me call me Derpy Hooves sometimes,” Ditzy elaborated, “but most ponies call me Ditzy Doo. My special friends also call me Derpy Hooves, but it’s a good thing.” “I’m Dusk,” said pony reciprocated. “What’s wrong? Why don’t you get out of the rain?” Ditzy questioned her. “I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t have anything,” she lamented. “Oh you poor pony,” Ditzy sympathized. “Do you have any pony to help?” “No,” Dusk moaned, “Nopony knows me.” “You don’t look so good. You should really get inside before you catch a cold,” Ditzy Doo advised, and added kindly, “Why don’t you come to my place?” Dusk blinked, and mumbled, “Um, okay.” Ditzy Doo led her down several streets to the barred entrance of a menacing concrete building. The huge gate muffled internal thuds and clanging metal. “This—is your house?” Dusk stammered. Ditzy Doo chuckled, “No, silly, up there.” The clouds above still cast down water, but also hid regular shapes with darker shadows. “I’m not sure I can get up there,” Dusk admitted. Derpy frowned at her guest’s deficient wings, and then smiled. “It’s not far, we can do it together!” They took flight—except that Dusk barely got hooves off the ground. She started to sink back down, but Ditzy grabbed her and hoisted her into the air. They rose up the side of the building and towards the sky. While Ditzy provided most of the thrust, her aim was less impressive than her wings. She accidentally crashed her partner into the edge of the roof. Dusk yelped and fell half on top of the building, clinging to it desperately. Ditzy offered an apologetic squee and picked her back up. With one last exertion they broke the low cloud layer and Dusk found herself suddenly inside some sort of room. Ditzy Doo turned on the light, revealing a very small cloud home with few furnishings, but altogether better than a dungeon. She shook herself dry and greeted, “Welcome to my apartment!” Dusk hardly looked at the place, more occupied with panting and shivering. “Of course, silly me,” Derpy apologized, “we better get you cleaned up.” She casually scooped a dollop of cloud out of her own wall and pushed it down on the middle of Dusk’s forehead. Dusk squinted and shrugged away. “Hold still and let me get you warm and dry,” Ditzy soothed. Feeling that the top of her head was now surprisingly dry, Dusk acceded. Ditzy sponged the puff along her guest’s back. It pushed through the hairs straight to the skin, taking in any water it touched, almost like magic. She squeezed it out and the water fell harmlessly through the floor. Ditzy Doo continued with smooth, practiced movements, and soon had dried the entire pony. Dusk was left to think, “She’s almost too good at this.” “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Ditzy said. Dusk looked for somewhere to sit. Apparently a table was one of those things that weren’t necessary. Her hostess retrieved a couple of apples and sat down next to her. They crunched into the fruit, and Dusk relished the experience like it was the best thing she had ever eaten. “How long have you been here?” Ditzy asked. “Not very long.” That was…true? “Me too. I guess that’s why you don’t have anything. I got a job pretty quick, so I get to have this place.” She grinned at her adequate dwelling like it was a palace. “Where is your family?” Dusk had to consider the question; it had been so long since she thought about that. “Far away,” she replied. “Mine too,” Ditzy sympathized. “What did you do before you came here?” Dusk gulped a bite of apple and exclaimed, “N—nothing! Err, I mean, I was, uh, a cashier.” Finding herself unable to provoke a conversation, Ditzy announced, “Time to go to sleep.” She slipped out the door and returned with a cumulous lump from the edge of her cloud. “I got your bed,” she explained. “Do you sleep with a window? I could open one up for you.” Dusk closed her eyes and pictured a hole in the cloud with iron bars across it. A black hoof slowly snuck through the bars and… “No! It’s fine!” she blurted. Ditzy brought the cloud to a hover in a corner, fluffed it, and stepped back. Dusk tried to shake the vision from her mind and hopped obligingly onto her new cloud. She tested its softness; it was insane. It was quite cozy to lie on and even teased a smile out of her for a moment. “Thanks, it’s REALLY fluffy.” Derpy paused to take in the glory of being a good fluffer before landing on her own bed. Dusk tried to settle down but troubling memories wouldn’t allow it. The last few times she had slept, something bad was happening to her when she woke up. Ditzy was about to extinguish the lamp when she noticed the expression on her new little friend’s face. She remarked, “You seem kinda scared, like a little filly who thinks Nightmare Moon is coming.” Dusk’s mouth went dry. “How could I forget?” she anxiously thought. She realized with horror that the cloud home could actually be penetrated from any angle. “I’m a sitting duck up here!” her mind raced. She suddenly felt completely exposed and looked around for signs of impending threats. Ditzy frowned and complained, “Aren’t you a little old for that?” She rolled back onto the floor, not to be satisfied until the problem was solved. She picked up Dusk and her cloud, looked underneath, and reported, “No monsters under here.” Dusk blinked in disbelief at the disarming ridiculousness that was occurring. “I’ll tuck you in and you’ll feel better,” Ditzy assured. She wrapped the edges of the puff around Dusk until the restless one was snugly enclosed, with just her face uncovered. Ditzy stopped in front of Dusk and bobbed her head abortively, shying away from some intended action. She was discombobulated; a step in the process had been omitted. Ditzy sighed and said, “Now go to sleep, silly,” before returning to pursue her own slumber. It was completely illogical, but feeling secure in her puffy fortress, Dusk calmed and drifted off. DerpyChapter 5 It was hours till dawn when Dusk awoke. Overheated from her little protective cocoon, she pulled herself up and swiped at it until it had all dissipated or stuck to something else. She was annoyed with herself for letting Ditzy treat her like a foal. “Well, I guess I did want it at the time,” she sighed, and realized that’s what was really bugging her. She walked quietly—which it seemed to be impossible not to do, this cloud-for-floor stuff was a pretty good idea after all. She walked to the door and sat down. Why anypony would want a doorway, when you could walk through the walls was beyond her. Her full eyes scanned the sky-vista. To correct on the time, the sun was lurking somewhere under the horizon, just like yesterday, so it was still indefinably dusk-dawn. It was hours before it should have been dawn, if there was going to be a dawn. You know, astronomy, meteorology, politics and stuff. With the vista lit by a dim, unseasonable orange glow, she could see the other cloud homes floating in an uninspired grid. They were arranged in a few layers, with the Doo house inhabiting the bottom level. The factories below churned out columns of smoke that drifted indolently through the pegasi housing. Faint sounds of machinery rose off of the industrial floor and whispered a white noise to this side of Canterlot. Wartime production meant that the factories operated around the clock. The war had ended in stalemate, and the treaty looked good on TV, but the factories never stopped. Perhaps the smog was responsible for the persistent irritation in her eyes. Living in this industrial haze couldn’t be good for a pony’s health, but zoning laws meant that both the factories and the new pegasi refugees were consigned to the far side of the mountain from the main city. Celestia liked to see the open blue sky from her palace, so she insisted that smokestacks and floating houses be hidden from view. Some particulate from the furnaces below was somehow absorbed into the clouds, turning every dwelling gray like the smog. The houses, the air, the concrete buildings, and Dusk, were all gray. She turned from the drab scene to find color inside the home. There was a picture here and there on the wall, some fake flowers in a vase (with water in it, strange), but the other furnishings were white, unfortunately. Her eyes were naturally drawn to a splash of real color in the middle of the one-room apartment. Ditzy’s yellow mane flowed out onto the puff of cloud that served as her bed. The puff was dyed a playful blue, and as she lounged comfortably, she seemed to Dusk like icing on a cupcake. The strange guest noticed her mouth water and her pulse rise. She didn’t customarily go long between having some sort of fix. She blinked a few times and decided to find another one. Using her discovery that cloud travel was almost noiseless, she stole across the room to a cabinet. Gingerly opening it, she spied—no drugs or booze. If she wanted a sugar high, or to binge on soap, she could have made it happen. There was not even a skanky magazine, only the sweet little home of a simple and innocent pegasus. She looked back to her hostess, whose placidly snoozing form was still the most interesting thing in the apartment. Ditzy was… curvy. Dusk tracked each curve one at a time. Miss Doo surely wouldn’t reciprocate any of these feelings, Dusk reflected. “I must be pretty ugly,” she thought. “A pretty pony would probably just kick me out. This has been my time for being kicked out. She’s probably stronger than me; I couldn’t even fly here. Maybe she’s in a suggestible dream state, and I could whisper in her ear...” She stopped herself. With some surprise, she realized that she didn’t want to take advantage of this pony, much less overpower her. She remembered how afraid she had been when Onyx looked at her like this. She certainly didn’t want Ditzy Doo to feel that. She searched her mind to count all of the kind, innocent ponies she knew. The cross-eyed flyer was the only one, the one who had descended like an angel and picked her up from the gutter of despair. Was this how she thanked Derpy Hooves for taking her in without any cost or expectation? She feared that Derpy would never let her call her by that name if she found out what kind of a pony she had taken in. What happened to “I’M A MARE”, anyway? Had she actually gotten her hopes up for the colt at the bar? It could have been an interesting night with all that handsomeness, leather, and probably Vinyl Scratch playing in the background. She really wasn’t used to being the weak one though. It still intimidated her; she couldn’t bear the risk of feeling as helpless as she did with Onyx and… someone else. Thinking about what she’d done didn’t make her feel any better about it either. A smiling picture of a unicorn colt with blue hair hung on the opposite wall. “Good for her,” she thought. Perhaps she wasn’t as turned on as she was jealous. “Who gets mistaken for a colt in an interrogation? And who wouldn’t be jealous of those hindquarters?” “Why are you looking at my butt?” Ditzy asked, blinking but otherwise motionless. “I was, um, curious what your cutie mark was about?” Dusk lied clumsily. “Oh!” Ditzy piped up pleasantly, “What does it look like?” Dusk hoped for a more meaningful answer, but only managed, “Bubbles?” “Exactly!” She sat up grinning. “I’m good with bubbles.” Dusk thought incredulously, “Good with bubbles?! Who even thought that was a real ability? What could be more useless?” Ditzy asked, “What are you good at?” Dusk’s heart sank. She looked away ashamed, and mumbled, “I don’t think I’m good at anything.” “Aww,” Ditzy’s eyes rolled around halfway and then back to their starting place. “I’m sure you’ll find something.” Ditzy stretched and fluttered up to the ceiling. She blew into a little glass fixture until it glowed and brightened the room. She sank to the floor and trotted lightly to the mirror, where she started brushing out her mane. “No pony likes me anyway. Everypony thinks I’m ugly, and they even think I’m a colt sometimes.” “You poor thing,” she sympathized, “but that’s what happens when you don’t take care of yourself, silly!” She put a hoof around Dusk and pulled her in front of the mirror. Her whole coat was matted and disheveled. “Here, we’ll fix you up!” Those Derpy eyes went everywhere as the wonderful, bubbly pony messed up from every possible angle. She could brush herself effortlessly but apparently it was different on someone else. Dusk didn’t want to say anything to upset her. “Oh dear,” she said when she looked back at the mirror, “Maybe you should do it.” She passed Dusk the brush. Dusk dangled it awkwardly and explained, “I don’t usually do it with my hooves.” “Well, what do you do it with, your tail?” the misfit barber chuckled, “You’re silly!” “Never mind,” Dusk huffed, and she began to use her hooves. “Your mane is cut kinda short, maybe you should grow it out longer.” Her short hairs were sickly, dingy white on her anorexic body. “Here, this should help,” Ditzy said, taking the brush. She ran some water over it and applied a solitary drop from a tiny bottle. True enough, the new treatment had the mane clean, white, and glistening. Not bad. Dusk managed to arrange it in a few cute curls and was really feeling much better about the whole thing. “You should eat more,” Ditzy added. “Speaking of which, are you hungry?” Perhaps over-excited from the unusual positive contact, Dusk accidently let herself say, “Do you like bananas?” Oh no, I did not just say that. I wouldn’t wish something like that on her. “Oh, sure, I have a big bag of bananas right here,” Ditzy Doo smiled brightly as she pulled it out of some hiding place. “Holy shit!” Dusk exclaimed in horror. “Don’t talk like that,” Ditzy admonished, “if you want one, just ask.” She put a hoof into the bag and grabbed one. Dusk snapped. “Don’t touch it!” She swatted the banana from Ditzy’s hoof. “Why would you do this to me?!” she yelled hoarsely. Ditzy gasped, and looked hurt. “I—I was being nice to you! You can’t say dirty words and yell at me in this apartment!” “You can’t give me bananas!” she sobbed, “You can’t tell me what to do!” Recovering from her panic left Dusk standing awkwardly with a very upset Ditzy Doo. She couldn’t believe she had just blown it, and she couldn’t stand to see her bubbly companion now bristling defensively. She ran out the door. Derpy Hooves shook her head, saying disappointedly, “I just don’t know what went wrong.” After eating a good breakfast, she strapped on her saddlebag and stepped out into the near-night time of another new work day. She sighed. Judging by the continued astronomical disturbance, people would be sending a lot of mail. It would be extra important, and guess who was on the job. Ditzy hopped into the air and rolled towards the post office. From behind one of the corners of the house, Dusk watched her leave. Running out here was not an ideal solution after all because of her sketchy flight capability. She was stuck on the cloud for now. Well, not exactly stuck. She figured that she could probably glide down to the ground without getting hurt; it was gaining altitude that was the problem. She looked at the industrial complex below her. It glowered and brooded in haze and threatened with sharp edges, furnaces, and razor wire. A great chimney pointed at her like a smoking gun. Fleeing from the guilt on the ground, she considered other dimensions of travel. The spacing of the grid in this sky development was just wide enough that Dusk couldn’t jump to neighboring apartments. If she left she couldn’t come back, but she didn’t see any more inviting place. She was angry. No pony told her what to do; yet she was trapped here by fate and fear. Did she go back into that harsh world? She had not actually experienced that much of it, but in her mind it was all prisons and factories and bars that kick her out. There was nowhere she could be happy. “It’s all because of that stupid pegasus,” her clouded mind told her. “Who actually has a BAG of BANANAS? She was just waiting for me.” Dusk picked up her sooty hoof and drove it into the wall of Ditzy’s house. This would teach that Derpy pony. She dragged her hoof across it, leaving a deep impression in the semisolid cloud. She moved her hoof about in quick, vicious strokes until she had delivered her message. It read “RETARDED FAGGOT” in large letters. She thought she would be more satisfied for being such a clever rebel. Still afraid to leave, she turned around and leaned against the defaced wall. Dusk gave herself a brief scowl. She was no expert, but she was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to hang around after you tagged a house. It was kind of stupid. “I am kind of stupid,” she thought. She was too mentally unstable to handle a little fruit or kindness. She was probably really mad because Ditzy wasn’t a horny colt who would distract her from being so miserable in this miserable world. She hated to look at the city that had become so bitter. What a stupid world. Not able to find free air in the sky, the city seemed to choke on itself and its dreams of conquest. Dreams that were nightmares, nightmares dreamed by one sleeper but lived by all. She peered through breaks in the cityscape to get a glimpse of the open country. With the sun in hibernation, the crops would yield little. Without its light, the world, but for a few, would die. Far away, a chain of lights dragged across the atmosphere. She had once been proud of them. The huge airships boasted thick armor and powerful weapons, held aloft by a combination of magic and science. Dusk could see them clearer when she closed her eyes. Several decks hung under the buoyant gas cells and housed control stations, crew quarters, and massive turrets. These were protected by a seamless metal hull that hid the contours of the blimp, giving an appearance closer to an ocean-bound vessel. All of this unnatural weight was supported by the helium above and the engines underneath. The engines were not true machines but industrialized magic. A small number of unicorn “engineers” kept the propellers spinning with animation spells, and firefly dust was burned to add thrust. Faint blue or pink vapors from these operations trailed out of the shafts that sheltered the engines from attack, except for threats directly below. “Highness Glory class: 150 meters. Four six-inch guns, fifteen machine guns, 36,000 pounds of bombs. 33 knots. Crew: 130.” Her heart had once swelled with pride and joy to see the mightiest force in Equestria sail forth, emblazoned with the gleaming emblem of the sun. After Celestia’s shocking disappearance, the Solar Empire had only one place to throw all of its borrowed hate and fear. No doubt politicians and generals had jumped to conclude that it was Luna’s doing, and pushed for an immediate attack to save the world from eternal darkness. The Solar armada flew slowly above advancing columns of troops, all heading to fulfill their purpose: the destruction of the New Lunar Republic. Only it wasn’t Luna’s fault and war wouldn’t fix anything. Ponies would just kill each other as the world starved, fighting for lines on a map no one would remember. As Dusk watched the columns creeping away, all she saw was an ironic funeral procession. She wished they would stop, but it was out of her hooves now. She looked back at the defaced wall. “Am I being an asshole?” RETARDED FAGGOT. As long as she was standing by the words, they seemed to point to her. “It’s pretty accurate,” Dusk admitted. The world didn’t like her, and it shouldn’t. Maybe she should jump off the cloud and not use her wings. The jagged slabs below would eagerly give death if she asked for it. Did the world really need a guilty, ugly, asshole pony? At least she would die 20% cooler with her new manejob. That actually made her feel better. For a while, Ditzy Doo had made her feel like she belonged. She had given food, shelter and compassion without getting anything in return. That was worth sticking around for, maybe until the end of the world in a few days. She wiped the wall clean and went back inside. JourneyChapter 7 The next morning-time after breakfast, Dusk stood by the door and said, “Thank you, Derpy, for letting me stay. You showed me a lot, and it made me realize I have to go.” Derpy stopped her preparations for the work day to ask, “Already? Where do you want to go?” “I need to go west,” she answered, still looking out that way. “I need to do something.” “When do you need to go?” Derpy asked, paying attention but still brushing her mane. Dusk looked back to her host intensely and insisted, “Right now.” “Oh,” she let out, and put the brush down. She trotted over and gave Dusk a hug. The pegasus was truly warmed by the sentiment but was still too awkward to return it properly. “Sorry I made you dirty again,” Dusk murmured, embarrassed. Derpy Hooves looked down to see her chest and legs streaked and smeared with grays and whites from her contact with the weird guest. “It’s okay,” she shrugged, “I’ll just wash it off before I go to work. Will I see you again?” she finished with imploring eyes. “I don’t know,” Dusk answered truthfully, although privately she doubted it. “Good bye Duskie,” Miss Hooves offered. “Duskie” looked out and then back at Derpy. There was a moment of silence. The cross-eyed pony turned more cross-eyed than usual before finally asking, “What?” “I can’t fly,” Dusk confessed, flapping her deficient wings lamely. “I need to travel quickly, but I can’t fly.” “What’s so important that you have to be so fast?” the blond pegasus questioned again. “The world is ending,” the odd one began, but paused to calculate. “And I need to see my family.” Derpy gave a doleful frown. “You really think the world is ending?” Dusk considered the eponymous horizon where the sun still refused to rise or fall. “Probably,” she sighed. Derpy flew out the door and hovered in front of the edge of the cloud. She dug something like a snowball out of her home cloud and brought it to her friend. “You should just use cloud booties!” she suggested cheerfully. “Booties?” Dusk repeated dubiously. “Of course,” Derpy chirped, “All the little pegasus fillies wear these when they’re just learning to fly.” She chided playfully, “Don’t you know anything?” and stuck the puffy blob onto Dusk’s hoof. After she received the complete set, Dusk felt sillier and lighter. Flapping her small wings, she pulled herself off of the cloud and moved out into empty space. At first she flailed around clumsily, but gaining control, she returned to land where she started. “Good!” bubbled Derpy. “How far do you need to go?” “At least as far as Ponyville,” Dusk replied, again glancing doubtfully at her hoofwear. “I seriously doubt I can make it to Ponyville,” she thought. “The world is sooooo ending.” Derpy disappeared into the house and reappeared with a rope tied around her neck. Before Dusk could say, “You don’t need to hang yourself,” Derpy was giving her the other end of the rope. She explained, “We can get to Ponyville fast if we go together!” “What about your job?” Dusk could only ask. “It’s not going anywhere, and there are really more important things,” Ditzy Doo admitted. “You need to see your family.” The salt-and-pepper pegasus, still shocked at her friend’s good will, stammered, “Wow, thanks…but what—“ “Bite it,” Derpy interjected, holding out the end of the rope. Dusk complied. “Now you just hold yourself up and hold on!” Derpy instructed before immediately rolling over in the air and flying west. Dusk’s eyes widened as the slack in the rope disappeared, and with an “Ungh!” she was yanked off the cloud into the sky. Ditzy Doo, breaking free of the constraints of daily life, surged forward exuberantly. With Dusk in tow, she cleared the next cloud house and set her sights on the horizon. Her passenger, however, was still on trajectory for the house. Dusk scrambled uselessly on her cloud shoes as if to run the other way on the air but obviously found no traction. She tasted cloud as she left a deep impression on the wall before scraping along after Derpy, who pushed determinedly ahead. The agile flyer gave polite space to a milk-pony completing his “morning” rounds. Dusk careened into the unsuspecting pony. In the resulting crash, she lost hold of the rope and milk bottles went flying. She started to apologize, but the pegasus colt dove towards the cityscape to save his falling cargo. She found herself leaning forwards awkwardly and having a hard time keeping altitude. A quick glance revealed her empty hoof. “I lost my bootie!” she cried. “Derpy!” Derpy was flitting away happily, not only unaware but also quite pleased with her abilities. “It was a little rough to get going, but now I’ve got the hang of it!” she cheered, “At this rate we’ll get to Ponyville in no time, right Duskie?” She turned to look for congratulations behind her but only found a dangling rope. “Aww derp.” Dusk struggled to balance on three hooves until her helper appeared to retrieve her. She urged, “This time, let’s fly under the neighborhood.” Trying to be helpfully quick, Derpy had the cord back in her mouth before she could mention the cloud shoe. The two swooped down into the space between the factories and lower layer of cloud apartments. They suffered no more collisions, but passing commuters laughed at Dusk as she limped and wobbled at the end of her string. As they left the city, she figured out that she could wrap the rope around her unshod hoof and assume a stance almost like water skiing. “Great, now that nopony’s looking I can have some dignity,” she grumbled. They traveled miles of dim sky, slowly but surely pulling the faint features of the earth under them from one horizon to the other. Comparatively few incidents interrupted their airborne road trip. Night fell suddenly as they flew, but Ditzy still knew the way. Someone had dropped the sun; did they really have something better to do? In one broad vista, bright orange on the north horizon replaced the dusk light. The burning ground illuminated pillars of smoke that blotted out the stars. “Wow, look at that wildfire,” Derpy marveled. “It’s pretty! I hope no pony gets hurt though.” Dusk knew instinctively that it was no wildfire. The eerie lights that moved through the smoke betrayed the conquering armada. She didn’t disillusion her companion. Dusklight returned as they finally landed at the edge of Ponyville. They sat down in the grass and caught their breath. After a reluctant moment, Derpy turned to Dusk and said, “I guess it’s really good-bye this time, Duskie. Enjoy your time with your family.” Dusk had thought along the way what to say to her new friend. How could she thank her? She suggested, “I’m not the only one with something more important to do than deliver mail. You should go back to Dinky. With everything that’s going on, she needs you right now.” “You’re right,” Derpy agreed, “My poor little filly!” She hazarded another sooty hug. “Thank you Duskie. I want my Dinky, she’s all I wanted this whole time. Good bye.” Dusk waved as Derpy Hooves rose up, gave a last look, and flew out of sight. The pegasus mother started her second trip heading southeast. She was tired after the first flying journey, but nothing could hold her back now. PonyvilleChapter 8 Dusk sat a while looking far into the southeastern sky. Her immediate surroundings suddenly came into focus and jammed a new thought into her mind. “Oh no, not again,” she gulped. She was alone. The quaint country town had long ago been a model town. Now it had fallen into some disrepair. It was hard living on the border between hostile superpowers. Some of the structures were bright and fresh, contrasting sharply with broken and scorched ruins beside them. Ponyville had felt the last war. The new buildings represented not expansion but reconstruction. Dusk plodded reluctantly up Main Street, which was mostly empty, although some ponies could be seen. The town hall caught her interest, and she assumed a steady trot toward it. Surely someone there would be willing to answer a few questions. The hall stood, resolute like a worn standard, commanding pride for the damage received in faithful service. Inside there was the commotion of an urgent meeting. Perhaps she could just listen and find out what she needed to know. She could figure things out; she hadn’t come here by accident, after all. She sat down by the door, which was held open a crack by a doorstop. She heard one voice talking above concerned murmurs: “—So the town itself should not be in danger this time. We should have some faith that our homes will stand, and we will have a future when this is all past. The principal danger is really brigands, deserters or other robbers. Lock your doors and hide your valuables, and that means food and water, not money. Now, a town watch should be appointed for after—“ Dusk was struck with a sudden affliction. Burning pain ran up her leg and played through her chest. When the feeling touched her lungs it triggered dry and painful coughs. She doubled over, gritting her teeth and rolling on the ground. The hot, stabbing sensation wound its way down her back before dissipating into a tingle. She lay on the ground panting and whimpering. The door to the hall swung open and rested against her, half-hiding her. Citizens hurried out to return to their dwellings and make preparations. Dusk had only just regained focus as the last of them were leaving. A finely dressed mare with a curly white mane was the last to go. Dusk croaked weakly, “Wait!” but her hoarse voice did not reach the mayor. She lay still a while longer and recovered. Soon she could not detect any trace of whatever had come over her, and she was left to wonder what had happened. She picked herself up and looked inside the hall. It was indeed empty. Her stomach was also empty. “There’s no Derpy this time, so I’m really gonna have to take care of myself,” she realized. “And no stupid stuff,” she added determinedly. She scoured her view of Ponyville for sustenance. Slow to accept the coming famine, a fruit stand in front of the Farmer’s Corner down the street was still selling apples. A broad-shouldered colt who looked used to farm work stood overseeing the product and his filly. Dusk trotted a couple shops away and stopped. “No bits, no beer,” she recited. She ducked behind the corner of a shop with boarded up windows. She stole another peek at the vendor and considered her options. She could appeal to their better sentiments. “Despite these harsh times, they’re probably as generous as a deprived mother who half-mistakes me for her baby,” Dusk murmured sarcastically and rolled her eyes. (It didn’t actually look like much when she rolled her eyes, she realized.) Ponies were supposed to find work to earn bits and buy food. The idea struck her as absurd in her situation. That would take way too much time, and wouldn’t she need food to work? The thought of giving up on food for now was vetoed by her belly’s angry growls. They would give her food if they knew what she was doing, but clearly, she couldn’t tell them. In fact, she was on the job, and she deserved some payment. “I ought to have a heck of a lot more payment than a meal, but you get what you can,” she grumbled. She took another look at the fruit stand. The owner began talking with some pony through an open door behind him. He gave instructions to the little pink filly before stepping inside to discuss some pressing matter. Dusk retreated behind the closed-down business where she was hiding and slinked through the alley. She crept up carefully along the wooden-slat wall of the Farmer’s Corner, dodging under a white windowsill to avoid detection from the two talking inside. She leaned half her face around the corner to look towards her target. She was close now, and it would be easy to blow it. The little one was watching, but luckily she was looking the other way down the street. She stared anxiously down the road that led out of town into the great “out there” where all the bad ponies came from. Some of the apples were in a basket. “Thanks for setting that out for me,” she imagined telling the farmer. Dusk tiptoed out of her hiding place, assured of her stealth. She only made it a few steps before the filly spun around, her eyes wide as saucers under her yellow bangs. “Daddy!” she cried in alarm. Dusk leapt to the fruit and took the handle of the basket in her teeth. The brash filly, brave with the close presence of her father, moved to block her retreat and indignantly whined, “Hey, stop it!” The colt’s head emerged from the door and took in the intruder with shock for a split second before reacting. Dusk desperately pushed the filly to the ground and stepped over to flee the scene with her loot. The little pink one bawled and the owner’s expression moved from concern to wrath. The enraged father galloped after her; however nice or not he was before, the gloves were off now. The bandit dodged through the buildings on the other side of the street. She lost a couple of apples scrambling over the trash and debris in the alley, and was forced out onto the cross street by a fence. The owner had guessed her path and charged at her from the side, almost on top of her. She dashed the other way out of town with her pursuer a few steps behind. More apples bounced out of the swaying basket and rolled under her. She hoped that youthful vigor would be on her side, but that proved far too confusing for her to think about while running. In any case, the twice-slighted colt was gaining on her and she had to tuck her tail away from his pounding hooves. Remembering her wings she forced the air ahead of her back into her pursuer’s face. Half-flying across the ground, she pulled away from him slightly, escaping the immediate threat of being crushed. She gasped through her teeth with the exertion. If the chase didn’t end soon she would run out of oxygen. Dusk made for a thicket of trees and low bushes. She pushed between scratching branches and had to fold her wings to keep from damaging them. The colt was bigger and smashed through the underbrush without falling behind. Now, however, she was really in her shadowy element. In the constant twilight, the shade of the trees was deep. Her streaked coat camouflaged her outline in the tangle of brush and sticks, and the dark little thief vanished. Frustrated in his attempt, the apple vendor hollered, “Stay gone, you spider-hatched alley cunt! If you ever come back, I’ll chew you like tobacco.” With that, concern again broke on his face and he ran back to collect his daughter. As Dusk recovered from the fear of being caught, she did feel bad about hitting the filly. “The little fool got in my way! What was I supposed to do?” she rationalized. Now holding more reason than usual to be wary of civilization, she continued away from the town. A raven crowed loudly above her and flew off. Startled, she found herself again running away. She fled up a path on a hill overlooking the town. Something glowed blue beneath her and she tripped, landing on her face and flinging the prized fruit ahead of her out of the smashed basket. Finding only a stray root under her legs, Dusk lifted her deep eyes up to a figure that appeared from the dark. It loomed threateningly over her from the edge of the path where it crested the top of the hill. Against the faint light of the sky, Dusk could see an odd silhouette that began billowy and indistinct at the ground and ended in a defined point at the top. It stretched out a hoof to gently catch an apple that bounced forward out of the spilt basket. “Thanks,” said an unconcerned voice, and the glint of a haughty smile appeared on a half-concealed face. Dusk stood and turned to run. A shimmering mist obscured the ground in front of her. Not to be tripped again, she jumped through the cloud, only to smack headlong into a sturdy tree branch. The mist dissipated around her as she thudded back to earth. Finding herself out-robbed and out-smarted, Dusk conceded defeat. Still exhausted and afraid to get back up, she only raised her head to see what the victor would do. The assailant took a bite of the apple and surveyed Dusk’s disheveled and pathetic form, sprawled on the dirt. She came into focus; a blue unicorn wearing a purple magician’s cap and cape with an enormous sapphire broach. “So they chased you out of Ponyville too?” she half-sympathized, but she was really looking at the town. “None of them down there understand. They’re part of it. The other towns are too, but not like—Ponyville,” she sneered the name as an insult. “They’re all part of the world.” Dusk blinked uncomprehendingly; it was clear that the speaker thought her statement profound. The blue one caught her expression and frowned. “They’re all part of making a world that doesn’t have a place for ponies like us,” she explained. She raised her snout at Dusk and disclaimed, “Not that we’re the same, blank flanks.” Dusk shrugged off the old insult and appealed, “So will you let me go?” “If you want to run away from a place to sleep,” the unicorn shot back with an offer. Blue light emanated from under her tall hat, and the scattered apples obediently leapt into the basket. “Are you coming, or are you just going to lie there?” Dusk realized that she didn’t have much of a choice; sadly, she still couldn’t seem to take care of herself. While the stranger wasn’t particularly friendly, she found it refreshing to hear a pony tell it like it is. Derpy was great but relentlessly cutesy. Dusk got up to follow, but first asked, “Who are you?” The blue one put a hoof on her chest and boasted, “It’s Trixie.” Magician's MisfortunesChapter 9 Trixie led her to a wagon that sat overlooking the town. Its purple covering held a chaotic jumble of colorful props and gizmos. “Uh, great? Now we can get to your home faster?” Dusk asked. “This is home,” the unicorn replied, with just a touch of sentimentality. The weathered old cart had seen many roads. “Oh,” Dusk could only reply. The unicorn’s cape trailed as she jumped up into the back of the wagon. She turned and motioned for Dusk to come aboard, but cautioned, “Don’t break anything.” The little gray one hesitated before joining her second hostess. “How does this keep happening to me?” she wondered. She could not decide if she was suspicious of Trixie or the universe itself, but with an assisting beat of her wings she entered the unicorn’s mobile home. She carefully picked a place to sit on the wood floor beside a projector and a heap of spinny things. Trixie lounged comfortably on a large cushion thrown over a crate, which seemed to be her bed. “Trixie doesn’t have guests over for dinner, but since everything else fell apart she may as well try it,” Trixie said. “Trixie doesn’t normally share, but we outcasts have to look out for each other. No one else will.” Dusk cocked her eyebrow at the use of the third person, but instead of questioning it she quietly received an apple that Trixie passed to her. She finally had the opportunity to taste the shiny red fruit she had been to so much trouble for. She finished it in big ravenous bites, and smiled as the flavor burst in her mouth. She took another apple out of the basket. Before munching on it, she questioned, “What do you do? Why do you live in a wagon?” “Trixie is a travelling magician, a performer and worker of wonders,” she introduced herself humbly. “Trixie was quite well known in her time. Despite Ponyville—“ she grimaced at the thought and reached for a drink. There was a keg and a row of assorted bottles on the floor beside Trixie’s bed. Her dangling hoof skimmed over three empty containers, lying flat on the floor as they were counted off. She picked up the first one that was standing, which left one more. She pulled off the stopper and took a deep swig. She took great relief from it, praising it: “Cider, hard as Celestia’s iron hoof. That’s how to use apples.” “No,” she tersely replied to Dusk’s interested and thirsty looks. “Despite that place,” she shook her hoof out the front of the wagon where she could see the town as she continued, “Trixie was actually on her way to the big leagues. Then shit happened.” “Hey, I think I actually saw a show a long time ago. Don’t you mean the Great and Powerful Trixie?” asked Dusk. The unkempt magician narrowed her eyes and scowled. Dusk pulled back from her intense glare, and the strange unicorn relaxed a little looking at the honest curiosity of the questioner. She sighed heavily, saying, “No, just Trixie.” She flung her blue chin up as she took a gulp from her flask of—VERY—hard cider. “I knew some GREAT and POWERFUL ponies,” she explained to the night sky. “And you know what? All that POWER and GREATNESS made them either dead…” she paused for dramatic effect, “or awful bitches.” Trixie never would have guessed it, but Dusk quickly made a note that she belonged to the latter category, if not both. She took another draught of that pungent cider. “Not to bother you with all my troubles…”—as the gray one also noted, that was precisely her intent—“But it’s a hard life for a magician these days. You can’t make a living with fireworks and the whole show ruckus anymore. Now ponies can’t stand the slightest pop. You’d think everypony had PTSD, the way they flinch and cower,” she continued, balancing a mocking tone with real sadness, “like the fires of war had come again.” “It will now,” Dusk thought. Judging by the quantity of cider, she didn’t need to make anything worse, so she kept her peace. That last bottle in the chain was something else though. Dusk checked the label while Trixie was looking the other way; it was pure alcohol. With that discovery, she mustered the interest to ask, “Why can’t you perform someplace the war didn’t hit as hard?” “Cause Trixie was banished from the Solar Empire and the New Lunar Republic,” she stated matter-of-factly. She continued her original train of thought without missing a beat: “And some of these earth ponies on the border are even afraid of magic. Ponies won’t let Trixie perform because, Trixie quotes, ‘Magic decapitated my brother.’ Sucks for him, but Trixie’s gotta live. Who in Equestria can be afraid of magic? The sky is magic, friendship is magic, Trixie is magic. Get over it.” “The sun is raised with magic,” Dusk indulged. “Yeah? Trixie already mentioned that,” the unicorn pointed out. The pegasus newcomer latched on to a good story, asking, “How do you get banished from the Empire AND the Republic?” “Those are big stories; you have to take them one at a time,” Trixie said, and revised the question, “Trixie will tell you how she was banished from the Solar Empire.” “It was the high point of Trixie’s rise to fame, or what should have been Trixie’s rise to fame. Word got around that Trixie was great and powerful, and entertaining, and she was invited to the palace to perform at a party. Not a happy-birthday-party kind of party, a gathering of respectable politicians for relaxation with food and tasteful theatre. Princess Celestia was there, at least half the time. Of course, she showed up late, probably from her bedroom, but Trixie doesn’t pry. When she came, Trixie had to stop calling herself great and powerful.” “Of course it’s difficult to perform in front of a goddess. Whenever she wasn’t worshipping herself or making her officials look stupid, she was watching Trixie. She could probably see through everything Trixie did. Since Celestia practically invented magic, Trixie tried to throw her for a loop with sleight-of-hoof more than real magic. Trixie used real magic to misdirect her attention from some down-to-earth trickery, and it almost worked. The Princess gave Trixie knowing looks as Trixie completed some of her acts; sometimes she was surprised. She figured them all out after a few moments, but keeping her amused was its own achievement. Trixie made something appear from her hat; but not to be cliché, she pulled her hat from her hat, and let the original blow away like dust.” Trixie paused to point to Dusk and interject, “If she told you how she did that, Trixie would have to kill you.” She resumed her narrative: “That’s what was supposed to happen, anyway. When Trixie put her new hat on and let the old one blow away, a round flask fell out of it. It was Trixie’s flask but she couldn’t remember putting it there. It half-bounced as it shattered on the stage, and splashed potion all over one of the high-powered gentlecolts. It was an expensive potion, and Trixie would never use that much of it at once, and never on a pony. Anyway, he got a little smaller, his mouth turned into a beak, and he grew some little green appendages on his back. He wriggled out of his suit and bucked across some tables, squawking, spilling drinks, and spreading panic. It only lasted a few seconds, and he was normal again, except naked. You don’t see most ponies minding being naked, but with all the pomp in the capitol they get used to a professional appearance. Anyway, just as he came to his senses he found himself standing on two legs on the table in front of Celestia, yelling—“ Trixie and Dusk shouted together, “YOU’RE MY BUG BANANAS!” The two shook the wagon with laughter for a second. Dusk rolled around on the floor, remembering his shocked face. Trixie turned deathly silent and glared at her listener. Dusk met her gaze and stopped laughing, and still air recaptured the area. “You were there?” Trixie inquired in disbelief. “I had a friend who was serving drinks, she told me about it,” Dusk lied artfully. “I get around too you know.” “Yeah,” Trixie agreed insincerely. She altered her story and continued, albeit flustered by her surprising audience, “Anyway the big shot wasn’t too happy about it, and had me banished. I guess you already know that. The potion was slightly illegal, but I never put it in that hat. Celestia got a huge kick out the whole thing, but she didn’t say anything when they kicked Trixie out. She must have had something to do with it. The deal with the Republic wasn’t Trixie’s fault either. Something followed her across the border, so of course she’s some kind of security hazard or something. Now Trixie’s stuck in the DMZ. Come to think of it, that probably had something to do with Celestia too. Awful bitch.” “Yeah, awful bitch,” Dusk repeated with conviction, but looked away from the outcast performer. “What brings you here to the border?” Trixie probed. “I need to find my family,” Dusk regurgitated her statement to Derpy. It was so easy to say to the trusting pegasus mother, but not so much with this cynical wayfarer. “Do they have names?” the interrogation continued. Dusk’s mind spun, inventing Amber, River, and Mountain Song. Stretching out in front of her she could see a network of occupations, character traits, motivations, and other lies tripping over each other. She used to be able to handle this kind of stuff all the time, but she was tired of it. “No,” she lamely replied. “Finding them’s gonna be difficult then,” Trixie jabbed sarcastically. “Look, I’m still running from my secrets,” Dusk divulged. “Can you let it be? Maybe I’ll tell you the truth in the morning, but I have to think about it.” Trixie relaxed her demeanor. She could respect a pony that held her cards close. Most of the time, that’s what Trixie did, but tonight she had felt the need to vent her frustrations to no one, and Dusk had seemed like the perfect no one. If her half-kidnapped guest began to trust her, they could enjoy a little outcast sisterhood; if not, Dusk would probably be gone before the morning. Trixie was done for the evening and lay down on her cushions. She rested the bottle and her hat on the barrel that served as her nightstand. With a guest for distraction, she hadn’t made it to that last bottle. Remembering Dusk on the bare wood she tossed down a thick purple blanket. “Um, do you have something gray?” the gray one requested. “You’ll thank me later.” “What’s wrong with the one Trixie gave you?” the irritated unicorn said, feeling as though her wild generosity was not being appreciated. “See, I have this thing, and if it’s not gray, I might—“ Dusk trailed off, embarrassed. Her wide eyes moistened and dripped across her face. “Are you crying?!” Trixie demanded with exasperation. “What? No,” Dusk deflected. She took a deep breath and explained, “I have this weird problem where I get ash on everything I touch, and it makes my eyes water. If I sleep on something gray, it wouldn’t show up as much.” “Huh? Ew,” Trixie made a face and pointed a hoof out the back of the wagon. “Get out before you get ash on all of Trixie’s stuff.” “But Trixie said I could stay,” Dusk pleaded, intentionally begging with teary puppy-dog eyes. She found it easier to cry when she realized she had been drawn into the third-person madness. Trixie caved, “Ugh, all right, just stop crying!” With that she lowered her horn and blinded Dusk with blue magic rays. “That should keep the ash away for a while.” The little pegasus felt the sting leave her eyes. “Wow, thanks,” Dusk replied, blinking comfortably for the first time. The small-time magician flung her a coarse gray blanket. The two bedded down and slept the astronomically ambiguous time period away. The SecretChapter 10 A subliminal insistence roused Dusk from a fitful sleep. She raised her head and looked instinctively to the arc of sky that stood framed by the tarp at the back of the wagon. A ribbon of green vapor was pooling into a neat orb just inside the enclosure. It disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving behind a small piece of parchment. She blinked and shook her head. “A message for me? How could this happen?” she thought anxiously. She wished she had been awake to see what direction it had come from. Her heart beat faster as she reached out and gingerly touched it, to angle it toward her. It read only: “Come back.” Dusk debated her response for a moment. In rising frustration, she narrowed her eyes at the paper. Her face took on an almost imperceptible radiance. She gritted her teeth and concentrated harder. A bright flicker on her forehead triggered an answering flicker on the parchment. A small flame stood up off the paper, and grew steadily until the message was reduced to ashes. As both lights died down, she rubbed the spot on her forehead and whispered, “What Trixie doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Probably.” She cast a sideways glance to where Trixie lay behind her. She gasped; the unicorn was staring with wide open, violet eyes. Dusk turned away reflexively and hid her face behind a corner of the gray blanket she rested on. She almost held her breath as she waited for Trixie to say something. After receiving only a tense silence, she looked back to the blue one. Dusk met her vacuous stare until Trixie gave a small snore; the traveling magician had learned how to sleep with her eyes open. Dusk calmed a little and was able to focus on the implications of the message. “They’re trying to find me,” she mused. “It’s a good thing Derpy didn’t go back to her house.” Carrying this train of thought down the line to Trixie, she realized, “Trixie should be watching me. I’m putting her in danger too.” She thought about all the ponies that were in danger and dying. “Why am I still here? How did I let hunger and a bad cough keep me from doing what I need to do already?” Regret began to pile up into a panic. If she wasn’t guilty enough already, her negligence was doing more damage every minute. She took a deep breath. “No sense doing this in crazy mode.” Dusk rose and approached the sleeper. She needed to know something before she left. Trixie’s somnolent stare was fixed on the bottle of hard cider by her hat on the nightstand. Dusk put her hoof out to reach for the liquor. As she touched it, Trixie growled, “No.” Dusk quickly withdrew her hoof and waited. Trixie didn’t move or make another sound. Dusk picked up the cider and put it down, urging, “Wake up.” Trixie raised her head and snatched the bottle, holding it to her chest defensively. Peering over the bags in her eyes, she gave the intruder a surly look. Before the groggy unicorn could find words to protest, Dusk asked, “Where are the guns?” Tired and mildly hung over, Trixie stumbled to catch up to the question, “You little thief, don’t touch Trixie’s—guns?” She squinted in confusion and rambled, “Trixie doesn’t have guns. She wouldn’t give you any if she did. Why do you need guns?” “Not your guns,” Dusk clarified, “Where is the Ponyville battery? Crescent Fastness? Luna’s long guns?” Trixie was speechless at being assaulted with such inane questions. She heaved herself up and across the wagon and yanked back one end of the purple covering. “Did you check the giant castle thing with the glowing moon banners?!” she quipped incredulously. Sure enough, off the other side of the hill from Ponyville stood a massive stone and concrete fortification. Looking slightly down on the sprawling complex, they could make out its eponymous shape. It was not a thematic indulgence; the castle-battery guarded the whole stretch of sky known as the Ponyville corridor, framed by mountain ranges to the north and south. The guns were spread in a near-semicircle so that the deadly weapons faced every mile of the mouth of this channel. “I, uh, hadn’t looked that way yet,” Dusk confessed sheepishly. “What is this about?” Trixie demanded. “I need to find out where Luna is,” the strange pegasus replied. “The Princess? Trixie already found her,” the unicorn boasted. “They usually have only three banners. Yesterday they added that big extra-shiny crescent. Somepony big is home.” “Excellent, I need to meet her,” Dusk blurted. “It’s really important, and the less you know the better for you.” “Oh really?” Trixie replied, unimpressed. She looked at Dusk who sat looking at the fortress. They continued sitting. Something had clearly stolen the early-riser’s eager energy. “Well if it’s so important, go on.” “Yeah,” Dusk moaned and looked down. “You’re still here. What gives?” Trixie questioned. Dusk sighed and admitted, “I’m scared. I’m not sure I can face her. What will they say? Will they kill me?” Trixie finally collected some concern and said, “Look here.” Dusk met her gaze with troubled black eyes. The unicorn studied her intensely, and lit up as she found what she was searching for. The performer donned her pointed cap and bluntly diagnosed, “So… you need this like Trixie needs the big stage, but you’re afraid of what ponies will think or do, so you’re just going to sit here and feel awful?” Dusk was surprised that Trixie could be so understanding, and let her guard down. She nodded sorrowfully. The magician hammered a hoof on the floor and declared, “That’s a shitty plan. You better get your sorry ass ready to meet your destiny.” Powered by internal frustrations, she leapt out onto the ground. “Follow Trixie—or does she have to drag you?” Dusk’s jaw hung open as she reeled from the outburst. “Trixie’s house, Trixie’s rules. You’re not going to waste your life in her wagon.” Dusk collected herself and obediently disembarked. “Let Trixie do you a favor and show you how we do things. No pony’s gonna give you what you want, you’ve gotta get out there and take it.” They started the hike to the NLR base down a path through light forest. Trixie set the pace and kept Dusk from reluctantly slowing down. “Come on, we’ll just get it over with.” “I’m thinking about what I should say,” Dusk excused. “If you came to Ponyville just to talk to her, you probably know what you need to say,” Trixie pointed out. “Yeah, I guess I do,” Dusk realized, “I guess I’m just worried about presentation.” “Mm-hm,” Trixie understood. “Will they let you see the top pony?” “Aw, shit,” the not-so-street-smart pegasus replied, “I didn’t think of that.” “In Trixie’s day, she could get you in, but now that she’s banished…” the performer almost offered. “If Trixie knows some pony in the camp she might be able to arrange something. If all else fails, she could put on a little show and draw some attention. She could draw attention to you or away from you, your pick, just don’t get yourself shot.” “Yeah, that’s a last resort,” Dusk agreed. Given a choice to try to enter from the front or the back of Crescent Fastness, they would have decided to come to the Lunar side. The front was particularly menacing, but given Trixie’s current status, they were obliged to approach there. As they drew closer they came upon a network of trenches, bunkers, and barricades that stretched out from either point of the crescent to prevent it from being flanked. The path left the new edge of the forest; the trees closer to the defenses were cut down to provide a clear line of fire on anyone nearby. The soldiers that occupied the positions paid little attention to the passers-by besides a few casual glances at the odd pair. They were busy moving supplies, cleaning their weapons, and resting. They came to the trench line next to the fortress itself to see if they could gain entry. A blond head with a wide-brimmed hat popped up out of the trench and called out, “Trixie? What are you doing here?” in a country drawl. “Oh, you know this pony?” Dusk piped up hopefully. Trixie whispered in her ear, “Yeah. Not good,” and loudly replied, “Hey, Applejack.” “That’s Major Applejack,” the major touted. “I’m surprised you came back to Ponyville, but if I heard right you got banished from everywhere else. I guess the rest of the world wouldn’t put up with your great and powerful schmocus either.” “How bad could it be?” Dusk tried to put Trixie at ease. “Ponyville bad,” Trixie replied under her breath. Applejack asked, “What are you up to this time?” “Just helping a friend,” the performer answered, and jabbed sarcastically, “Friendship is magic, isn’t it?” The major gave a deep scowl. “I bet you want me to let you in here, so you can bring some Solar goon with you again.” She eyed Dusk suspiciously. “That was not Trixie’s fault,” the storied traveler griped. “You’re already banished, anyway. To be particular, you’re on Republic soil right this very minute. You’d be in trouble if I didn’t have more important things to do,” the major half-threatened. Trixie turned to Dusk and stated, “You’re on your own.” The little gray pegasus gulped as the frustrated magician left her side and rested a short ways off. “Maybe it’s just as well,” Dusk thought. She trotted meekly up to the barbed wire, which stretched around the whole position a few feet from the trench. Applejack turned from hostile to curious with Trixie out of the equation. Dusk mustered an assertive attitude and stated plainly, “I need to speak with Princess Luna.” Applejack gave her a surprised and quizzical expression. “How do ya figure that?” “I know where Celestia is,” Dusk divulged. It was quite a claim, but at least it couldn’t be ignored. “Oh really?” the major reacted doubtfully. “And where might that be?” “I can’t tell you,” the little pony refused the question. “I’ll only tell Luna.” “That might be a problem,” Applejack warned. “We’ve had enough assassins. Not just any pony can talk to the Princess. How about ya tell me and I’ll tell her.” “I’ll only tell Luna,” Dusk repeated with finality. “Well if that’s the way it’s gonna be—“ she interrupted her own line of thought. A clever smile crossed her face. “Actually, there’s a way to settle this.” She climbed out of the trench and stood just behind the wire. “Come here.” Dusk didn’t know what to think of this new change of pace, but stepped up to the other side of the spiky barrier. “Ya know, in Canterlot, they have fancy gizmos that can tell if you’re lyin’.” Dusk muttered, “Yeah…” and wondered if she would have to go through another round of mind games. “Well they ain’t worth nothin’,” the major declared with conviction, and took a revolver out of her belt. “Why don’t you look Applejack in the eye and tell her if you’re an assassin?” “This is quaint,” the city pony thought, but realized she was nervous. “No, of course I’m not an assassin.” After staring deep into her eyes, Applejack conceded, “Alright,” and holstered her weapon. “Can’t be too careful.” She asked pleasantly, “What do you need to tell Luna?” “I know where Celestia is,” Dusk repeated. The major soured and spit on the ground. “Nope. It’s a damn lie. I don’t trust you.” “That’s not fair!” Dusk exclaimed, “All you did was look at me.” “I can tell when a pony’s honest,” Applejack avowed, “and I don’t trust you.” Dusk sat down and huffed in frustration. All this way, and she was stopped by quibbles over a half-truth. Her mind spun; could she get the major to reconsider without telling her too much? It didn’t seem likely. It also wasn’t plausible to give up at this point. Just then, she was astonished to catch sight of Luna herself. The Princess had been on a stone platform that stood in the middle of the Lunar camp between points of the crescent. She had been obscured from view by camouflage-netting screens, but now she stepped down into the open. The moonlight twinkled in her mane and tail as the royal blue-purple alicorn strode majestically towards the battery. Past the beauty of the night Princess, her silver armor bespoke a grim intent. Its style and outline were arranged carefully to avoid a similar appearance to that worn by Nightmare Moon, but parallels were inevitable. Several unicorns followed her off of the platform. The sun finally gave up its tenuous grip on the horizon and its orange light receded. The Princess and her magical entourage must have been holding it up, but now they moved on to other matters. Applejack also saw what was happening. “Uh oh. Imperial Army must be close.” She turned to Dusk and cautioned, “It’s not safe for you here,” before realizing in shock that she was talking to empty air. Dusk had seized on the distraction provided by the sudden nightfall. She jumped and beat her wings, clearing the barbed wire and an incensed Applejack. She scurried along trenches, dodged through a bunker, and flung herself to the ground in front of Luna. The Princess’s guards drew guns on the intruder and one unicorn shielded her highness with a shimmering wall of magic. They froze for tense seconds. Major Applejack caught up and wanted to drag Dusk away by the tail, but stopped to consider the Princess’s demeanor. Although a larger-than-life figure, the founding Premier of the Republic was not so large as her older sister; but beside her, Dusk seemed smaller than a filly. Luna took a deep breath and allowed compassion for the pitiful pegasus to overrule her busy thoughts. She wondered that this little pony would face such dangers to see her. She took on a glow as the moonlight collected around her gentler side. At her sign the magic barrier was dropped. “What is it, little one?” she said softly. Dusk was suddenly overwrought, less from the threatening weapons than from Luna’s presence. She moved her mouth but failed to make a sound. Luna leaned her head down close to the frightened pony, and commanded “Speak,” but with a soothing calm. Her starry blue mane rippled placidly between them. Dusk took in the courage the great one offered, and took a deep breath. In a voice just above a whisper, she pleaded, “Luna, little sis. It’s Celestia. I don’t know how, but it’s me, and I need you.” Luna flung her head back as a nighttime thunderstorm burst within the dark of her eyes. A flood of memory was unleashed by the unexpected utterance. Emotions visibly crashed against each other. The gentle light around her disappeared. A thousand years of bitterness, another thousand of wasted tenderness and longing, an age of a groaning nation, and a future of eternal loneliness pressed themselves on her heart. Her beautiful face twisted in anger and then went slack. In her deep royal voice, she let out a tremendous and trailing sigh. The exhalation almost blew “Dusk” away and swept off Applejack’s prized hat. Soldiers around the camp and up on the walls of the stronghold stood up, worried for their leader. Luna lowered her voice back to the normal range and rebuked, “You do not know what you are saying.” “But I do,” the little one weakly protested. “Did someone send her?” Luna asked firmly. Major Applejack reported, “Yeah, some no good trickster brought her here.” The Princess scolded Dusk, “You should leave her and all who lead you to foolish plans.” She declared to the guards, “They are not to enter my sight again.” Desperation overcoming her temerity, Dusk shouted, “No!” Applejack pounced to cover her mouth and roughly dragged her away. “Of course, your majesty, won’t happen again,” the major apologized. Dusk struggled and managed to yell, “Wait! Don’t go!” despite Applejack’s best efforts. Luna and her guards turned away and marched into the gate of the Fastness. The irate cowgirl shoved her inside the bunker and up against the earthen wall. “What the hell did you do to the Princess?” she demanded. “I told the truth,” Dusk retorted. Applejack’s eyes went wild. “Don’t you talk to me about truth,” she growled. “Why?” Dusk snapped, “Because honesty is your element?” “Who do you think you are?” the major fumed, pressing harder. “Who am I? I’m Celestia!” the grey pegasus ranted. “Well okay, you’re insane,” Applejack conceded and released her. “If you were Celestia I would have put a bullet in your brain already.” “Look.” The little freak brushed aside the start of her white mane to reveal a stubby protrusion of bone on her forehead. “I’m fucking an alicorn!” That didn’t come out right. “I don’t care who ya do, get outta my bunker!” Applejack finally commanded, forcing her back down the trench and bucking her over the barbed wire where she had come in. The misfit alicorn slowed her fall a little with her wings, but still came down hard. She picked herself up, took a few steps, and fell back down. “Get back up, ya faker,” Applejack snorted, “Scram.” The little lump out on the dirt in the moonlight only twitched and groaned. Trixie had lounged non-chalantly, but now approached the scene to see what was wrong. “Don’t you come any closer, shyster. Y’all have done enough damage, get outta here.” Trixie’s temper rose, but she didn’t know what was going on, so she stopped. When Dusk began coughing violently, Trixie pressed on, feeling at least slightly responsible. “Hey, stop,” the major challenged. “What are you gonna do, shoot Trixie?” the brash unicorn dared and cocked her eyebrow provocatively. “Fine! Just get her outta here,” Applejack relented. Trixie gently levitated her partner-in-exile and brought her back to the start of the forest path. The unicorn set Dusk down but kept her horn aglow to see what was wrong. The stricken alicorn let out more grating and un-equestrian coughs before spitting up a mouthful of damp ash. All the washed-up entertainer could do was hold her until she recovered. An orange flicker from Dusk’s foreleg caught Trixie’s attention. What looked like an ember emerged on the surface of the skin. “Shit!” Trixie reeled in surprise. She gave it a couple quick spits before it sizzled and extinguished. At last Dusk pulled through and whimpered her thanks to Trixie. The experienced outcast asked, “What did they do to you?” “Not too much,” Dusk mumbled, “This happened to me once before. I must have some kind of condition.” “Trixie’s sorry if she made you do something crazy,” the performer gave a rare apology. Dusk shook her head. “No, I had to. I had to try, but now I’ve failed every pony.” “You’re as good at getting kicked out as Trixie,” Trixie lamented. She pulled something out from under her cloak. It was a flask of cider. “Drink up. You need it more than Trixie.” Dusk took it gratefully. Trixie squinted at the eastern horizon and warned, “There’s a storm coming. We better leave this place.” Dusk slumped over in despair, muttered, “We’re all toast,” and guzzled the intoxicating juice. HoldChapter 11 Big Macintosh sidled up to his sister and handed the cowgirl her hat. “Thanks, Big Mac,” said Applejack. “What was all that commotion about?” he slowly asked. She shook her head. “Nothing much. Some weird ponies came in to bother the Princess. I guess we oughta head to our battle stations.” “Eeyup,” he agreed. They trotted through the familiar earthworks to the front of the defensive line next to the northern tip of Crescent Fastness. She yodeled, and hollered, “Rough Riders, get ready!” They were irregular soldiers in western garb, with cyan bands around their heads, chests, or legs to signify their allegiance. Those in the back of the position moved to the front, and those already at the front stood at attention. They were armed mostly with rifles, but a couple heavy machine guns were also dug into their station. General Burke Graywood strode behind the battle line, walking boldly over the exposed surface and crossing planks laid out over the trenches. Though he looked like an average brown earth pony, there was great pride in his bearing. He had risen through the ranks honestly to take his father’s command and saw it as his destiny to protect the Republic. “Where are the engineers? Are defensive preparations complete?” A pink pony head popped up from one of the rearward positions. Perky puffs of equally pink hair bulged out of her helmet and made it look like it might fall off. She held a shovel at attention, and replied with an inappropriate smile, “All ready to throw them a party!” “All forces report in,” he barked, and began to call out the units in order, “5th Lunar.” “5th Lunar Regulars, locked and loaded, sir!” a lieutenant reported from the walls of the fortress and shook his gun in the air. “Rough Riders.” “EEYUP!” Big Macintosh hollered. Applejack and some of the other country crack-shots waved their hats and whooped. “2nd Manehattan.” “2nd Manehattan, in position,” troops further down the line reported and saluted. The Lunar general continued down the battle line. His calls to each unit and the answering shouts faded from the Rough Riders’ hearing across the wide field of contest. He returned to the center of the line and climbed sandbag steps onto the roof of a bunker to address the army. Some looked up to him, but others still searched about or kept watch on the gate of the Fastness. Greywood paused to consider the horizon full of foreboding and the attitude of the troops. He had heard his fill of nervous murmurs from the trenches, and had planned his response. “Maybe you were expecting Luna to be standing here,” he began. “Do not be discouraged if you do not see her fighting with you. Luna is already fighting. As long as the big guns keep firing, consider that your divine protection from the Imperial fleet.” “I,” he bellowed, “I am your flesh-and-blood protection from the Imperial army. Should you be overwhelmed, I will send you reinforcements. Should reinforcements fail, I will reinforce you. Should I fail it will be with my last breath,” he swore, “But I will not fail. You will not fail. When the fighting is desperate, we will not retreat. We will not surrender. We will not die. We will not because we cannot.” The general pointed to the east, where faint shimmers in the air bespoke the coming foe. “In front of us wait all of Celestia’s destroyers, pillagers, and killers. There are rumors that Celestia is not with them. Some of you might think, now that they have a choice, they will show mercy to their fellow equines. I can tell you, they will not. Their Empress has taught them well. They will show no mercy, because she has never given them any. For them, anything that breathes behind this line is a traitor to blessed life itself. And what is behind us?” “Farmland, sir?” a rifleman on the bunker answered uncertainly. Applejack facehoofed, and griped, “Manehattanites.” “No!” roared General Greywood. He motioned forcefully to the west and declared, “When we stand here, we hold the Ponyville Gap. That means that ALL the farmland is behind us. Manehattan, Baltimare, and all the cities are behind us. All of the Republic is behind us. All of your homes and families are behind us. Luna is relying on us to stand to protect her while she protects all of Equestria. “That is why we cannot fail. Some of you are strong, and some of you are not; but tonight you are mighty stallions. You are so strong that should every weapon in the world attack, you will not break. You will hold the line because you cannot do otherwise.” Princess Luna placed herself in the middle of the massive gun bunker that was Crescent Fastness. She stood few discrete paces between and behind the busy crews of two center guns. There were twelve eighteen-inch guns in all. Luna’s long guns more than matched their name; the barrels of the two iron behemoths stretched forty feet out from their bases and protruded past the wall into the dark sky. Fluorescent lights guided the practiced movements of the ponies that kept the weapons as they lowered the artillery into a long-range firing angle and loaded the first huge shells. The Solar air fleet could not risk making the passage over the mountain ranges on either side; resistance from even a few Lunar destroyers or hostile pegasus winds could run the heavy airships aground on the rocky peaks. The fleet would have easier passage far to the south, but such a move would take time and possibly leave the Empire’s heartland open to counterattack. With its goddess’s shocking disappearance, the Empire demanded a quick strike to somehow save the sun or to simply deliver swift retribution. The long guns, built for destroying armored airships, would prevent the fleet’s passage through the Ponyville Gap as long as they were operational. Since the guns were the target of the entire Solar Empire, Luna was sure that they would be attacked by all means: by air, land, and magic. The eastern walls of Crescent Fastness were imperviously thick, and in the unlikely event that a shell entered the gun slits, steel plates between the weapons ensured that only one gun or crew would be lost. The greatest danger was of storming by ground assault or sabotage by teleportation. The magically endowed Princess bowed her head and concentrated her energy into a point in front of her. There, a few feet off the ground, ribbons of white light pooled as they streamed from her horn. She formed it into an almost solid pulsing sphere. In the middle of the strongpoint, the magic orb outshone the other lights, and all throughout ponies could feel a strange tingle. As it reached full size, the night Princess remained rapt in spinning the vaguely lunar object and whispering to it. A hush fell over the trenches as the attack grew imminent. Bullets jingled as the machine gunner next to Applejack fed a belt of ammo into the weapon. Soldiers with rocket launchers peeked over the edge of their hiding places, where they would be protected until they were needed. Overhead, storm clouds built up as they were moved into position. A brief plume of fire starkly illuminated the wall of the Fastness as a long gun opened the battle. All inside wore ear protection; it did not look stately or inspiring, but the Princess did as well. Luna did not flinch from the shockwave and kept focus on her protective arts. Small, fast Solar destroyers weaved their way through the cover of low hills on their way into the fight while the larger ships held off. More shots thundered out of the stronghold. The broad plain ahead of the defenders began to creep with shadows. As the Solar army approached, their ranks shimmered with points of light, religiously held forth by each soldier in homage to the sun. “What in tarnation are they doin? They’ll ruin their night vision,” an experienced Rough Rider commented. The destroyers now charged directly out of the hills over their army and the heavier warships drew into range. The Rough Riders heard the rumble of tracked vehicles and thousands of hooves and began to make out the shapes of the attackers. Lunar mortars behind them assailed the tide of dark silhouettes. They lined up their rifles on the advancing bodies of infantry. Suddenly day seemed to return with the eruption of a luminous shockwave over the Solar army. Sheets of bright green, yellow, and red covered the sky in an instant. Spotlights on vehicles and almost equally bright discharges of magic on the ground were joined by naval floodlights from the destroyers above. Across the battlefield, the Lunar soldiers closed their eyes or turned away from the blinding light. Pinkie Pie watched the display with exuberant satisfaction. “Damn sonic rainboom!” Applejack cursed. She covered her eyes with the brim of her hat, but not fast enough. “Damn Rainbow Dash.” Over the confusion, she heard the General Graywood’s booming voice calling frantically, “What’s going on!? Can anyone see the enemy?” She put on a pair of dark sunglasses and hollered, “I can see!” She raised her hat and forced herself to scan the gleaming Solar charge. She closed her teary eyes and announced, “Columns of ponies behind flamers and shield horns!” Hearing all he needed, the general ducked into the command bunker to send orders to all units. Some Lunar soldiers took cover to regain their vision and others tried to shoot towards the wave of light on the ground. It was to no avail; the whole enemy army was well protected from their gunfire. Flamethrower tanks and unicorns alternated across the front of the formation, with the following horde of earth ponies sheltering behind the armored vehicles and the bullet-repulsive spells. More unicorns cleared away tank blocks and other obstacles so that their forces could cross the exposed plain while the enemy was still disrupted. The army took casualties from mines but pressed forward. The NLR pegasi force sent down lightning from the wall of storm clouds and threatened to stall the advance. The enemy air destroyers fired a broadside of specialized shells that dispersed a gravelly mixture as they burst in midair. Within moments, the flying soldiers endured a hail of stinging particles that dispelled the clouds out from underneath them. Machine gun fire from an onrushing tank raked the dirt over the Rough Riders. “Missiles! Get out here and take out those tanks!” a lieutenant relayed. The anti-tank soldier behind the Apples’ trench started to rise out of his position but shied away from the bullets. “I can’t see them!” he called frantically. A unicorn galloped over the surface to their aid. He cast a green energy in front of the Rough Riders and yelled, “You’re safe! Get up and fight!” Hostile bullets turned aside, ricocheting off the empty air. Applejack leapt out from her cover to give the rocket pony her sunglasses. “Shoot the headlights!” she recommended, before returning to Big Mac’s side. Emboldened, the trooper stood up and took careful aim on the tank that was bearing down on them. The machine gunner on top saw the threat and impotently fired rounds into the protective spell. With a kick and a whine, the rocket flew out of the launcher and into the field of lights. The warhead made contact and the tank went dark and lifeless. With its shadow in stark relief to the lights behind, those in the trenches could see how close it was. Now that the sonic rainboom was fading into the black sky the attackers were so close that they were backlit by the floodlights of the destroyers. To the south, on the other side of the battlefield, a pony-sized shell from Luna’s long guns ripped open a Solar destroyer. The craft was engulfed in flame and crashed onto the plain. The Solar troops in front of it were starkly lit by the flames and took heavy casualties from Lunar marksmen. Daring Lunar pegasi swooped down to drop grenades into the unsheltered columns of earth ponies. Most of the flamethrower tanks were disabled by mines or missiles, and the defenses held. In the north, farther down the line from the Apples’ unit, the flack from the destroyers swatted down the flyers that attempted to bomb the columns. Even worse, most of the flamers got through. Their weapons sported lion or eagle figureheads that spat out burning streams of synthetics mixed with potion. The magically enhanced fire seemed to be alive; when it reached a trench, it curled over the edge and slithered down the length of it, devouring the occupants. Lunar reinforcements were sent to aid the north flank but Solars were already in the trenches. The heavy Solar warships shelled Crescent Fastness from miles away with their own huge guns. The face of the castle disappeared from view in ground-shaking explosions, but when the smoke cleared, it showed little damage. The armada shifted target from the battery to the trenches, where they took a heavy toll. The battery replied, damaging a cruiser so that it fell intact onto the hills; it would be useless for this battle, if not for the war. On the flagship Imperial Sovereignty, General Armor gave the order to deploy UNICROM. The secret team of military-trained unicorn magicians filed onto deck in full body armor but without weapons. They carried saddlebags full of high-grade explosives on their backs. The gold-plated General reared back and exhorted, “Destroy them so I can take Equestria, for Her light and honor!” Twelve unicorn commandos moved to the side of the ship to gain a view of the Lunar castle. At their leader’s signal they lit their horns and strained their minds towards their targets. Twelve synchronized flashes of different colors lit the deck as the saboteurs teleported away. Inside the Fastness, Luna still held up the shining orb. Suddenly jagged arcs of plasma spurted from its ethereal surface as if it took sharp impacts. Gun loaders dodged away from the turbulent enchantment and stared at the Princess in confusion. Its light dimmed and flickered under the punishment, but Luna closed her eyes and coaxed it back into a steady, bright ball. A second after departing, the commandoes reappeared in their places on the battleship. The surprised unicorns were hurled backwards across the deck as they materialized. Eleven struggled to their hooves, and one who was slammed into a bulkhead received medical attention. “They’ve created a barrier, general,” the team leader gasped as he recovered. The white face under the metal mask creased in frustration. “You said you could overcome any magical obstacles,” General growled. Shining Armor approached the smaller unicorn and put a hoof to his chest, locking eyes intensely, stallion to stallion. “Soldier, how long did you train for this? Did you get here by giving up?” “No sir!” the lead commando replied firmly, gathering his power with rising determination. “I can break the barrier,” he promised. “Follow me when it’s down!” He made his horn shine with red light and crackle with something like black lightning. He galloped across the steel floor and leapt towards his target, vanishing into the ethereal realms in mid-jump. Luna’s sphere burst into its constituent ribbons as a black presence forced its way into existence inside it. The bright cords stretched into a rough wire frame that almost engulfed the Princess as it expanded. Some white rays broke as the blackness grew. The ancient magician finally exerted her full power to send out fresh rays that surrounded the weakened node. She thrust her horn into the heart of the sphere and all the white light snapped back into the center, annihilating the black intrusion. Luna panted but immediately resumed spinning the metaphysical object. On the Imperial Sovereignty, a torn red portal arced across the length of the deck for an instant. The Imperial warrior reappeared in several locations as stretched and smeared features falling out of a red mist. Blood, entrails, and bits of equipment spilled onto the armored floor. The General grimaced. “It must be Nightmare Moon herself,” he concluded. He coldly considered the blood on his hoof. “Pull the fleet back out of range,” he ordered, “and clean the explosives off my flagship.” The defeated commandoes dejectedly began to sweep up their leader’s remains along with his dangerous cargo. The blinding effect was wearing off and the Rough Riders were free to fight as they pleased under the Lunar magician’s protection. To the right, Solar soldiers charged out around the wreck. An enemy “shield horn” led another column of troops towards them from the left. The Rough Riders fired their rifles into the unprotected ponies to their right. The mustachioed machine gunner beside Applejack let loose a devastating stream of lead that temporarily put a bloody stop to that charge. They turned their attention to the Solar soldiers led by the unicorn. The skilled magician deflected all of their fire and was almost upon them. One Solar marksman rested the barrel of an unusual weapon on the ruined tank and took careful aim. It was a SciMagic Works G3 “Even Justice” rifle: hoofmade with a heartchoke stock, enchanted smooth-bore silver barrel, and firing 50-caliber, sulfur-coated, dragon scale rounds. The sniper ignored the defensive enchantment and shot at the Lunar magician; as the projectile crossed the repulsive barrier, it merely glowed blue. The unicorn was hit in the middle of the chest and fell dead instantly. To the Rough Riders, it seemed that a dam had burst. With their protector killed, bullets poured in around them. The anti-tank soldier had stood his ground and reloaded, so he was now caught in the open and unprotected, and was immediately hit. The enemy magician was upon them, and the soldiers behind him fired down at them with impunity behind the magic shield. Unable to fight back, they hunkered in the trench until the unicorn reached them. The Solar soldiers ran up, eager to pounce on their cowering foes. Big MacIntosh sprang up with uncharacteristic speed and smashed the butt of his rifle into the surprised magician’s face before ducking back down. Applejack shot the unicorn before he could recover concentration on the protective spell. The Rough Riders took the signal to rise up and fight. The opposing soldiers fired frantically at each other at point blank range. The machinegun next to her again roared to life and took a heavy toll, but the enemy was already coming into their position. Applejack could barely chamber another round before a big colt was coming over the edge of the trench at her. She shot him in the chest, but far from center mass. It was enough to make the stallion drop his weapon but not enough to stop him. He jumped down on her, knocking her over backwards. He caught hold of her rifle and pressed down to crush her throat with it. She was almost gone when her comrade next to her drove his bayonet into her foe. She found herself trapped under the dead enemy, covered in his blood and gasping for breath. She could see the Rough Rider who saved her turn and fire his rifle. Another moment and a burst of submachine gun fire tore into him. He fell next to her. The machine gun to her other side fell silent. More Solars came over the edge and into the trenches around her. She closed her eyes and awaited death. Author's Note A sketch of the Imperial Sovereignty http://celestial-swordsman.deviantart.com/#/art/Imperial-Sovereignty-385026856?_sid=6818d1cd ShellshockChapter 12 Applejack lay pinned under and among dead ponies, with enemies rushing around her. Gunfire and cries of pain filled the air. She rested her head on shell casings in a puddle of blood. She felt as if she had died. In the darkness, she could feign death, and no one would notice. Perhaps she could somehow survive the battle and live to take care of her little sister Applebloom. Then she remembered Luna. She remembered the Rough Riders she had recruited. She remembered her brother, somewhere near her. “The general was right,” she whispered, “I can’t give up.” She looked again at the body of the colt that trapped her there. The corpse couldn’t be as heavy as an apple tree; she could free herself. If she could, she had to. The determined major gathered herself and tried to heave the body off of herself. It only partially worked. She tried to squirm out from under the weight, and aided by the slippery blood, she was half free. She looked up at a pony who saw her struggling. The soldier raised a rifle to plunge his bayonet into her. Applejack fumbled for her revolver, but her hoof did not find it in time. Dirt burst out of the sides of the trench and her attacker folded over backwards as heavy impacts drummed all over the scene. Another warm weight toppled onto Applejack from the other direction. The silhouettes of more Solar troops showed over the edge of the trench but immediately sprawled backwards or added to the heap of death in the ditch. Before she knew what was happening, strong hooves pushed the limp equine mass off of her. A big red face asked, “Are you alive?” Big Macintosh leaned over a heavy machinegun to take hold of his sister. Applejack’s face lit up, surprised that they had both survived. She mustered an “Eeyup,” and he helped her to her hooves. The big stallion again lifted the machinegun like a small firearm. Smoke still flowed out of its barrel. The remaining Rough Riders as well as some members of the 5th Lunar who had come to their aid finished their counterattack and reoccupied the forward trench. Together with the soldiers shooting down from the wall of the Fastness, they had pushed back the first wave of enemies and remained in control of all the positions next to the fortress. Everything to the north was in enemy hooves. By the time reinforcements arrived they found it was they who were assaulting an entrenched enemy. Stragglers from the failed maneuver retreated through the fortifications towards the Fastness. While they could not retake lost ground, they had taken the momentum out of the Solar attack, preventing them from pressing the assault south towards Applejack and Big Mac. As the Solar Armada turned to withdraw, the 51st Pegasus “Mustangs” chased after them. The Lunar flyers spread out to survive the flack and closed into tighter formation as they came in amongst the airships. The flack guns held their fire rather than shoot through their attackers and hit their own vessels, but friendly fire was deemed an acceptable risk for the machine guns. Automatic gunfire flashed across the length of the warships as gunners struggled to track the quick pegasi. Griffins and some pegasi scrambled out of the ships to do battle in the air. At the flight leader’s signal the Mustangs gathered to the center of the enemy battle group and with a cheer of “Remember Cloudsdale!” they executed a synchronized weather maneuver. They streamed the air behind them and twisted around each other in a living vortex. For a brief moment they presented the perfect target for the machineguns and some of them dropped limply from the swirling column. When the pegasi spiraled away from the site, they left a roaring tornado. The sudden storm blew the fleet into confusion and delayed its retreat from the guns of the Fastness. The force of the wind wrenched off the rudder of a cruiser. The vessel drifted off course farther into the danger zone. A hit from the 18 inch guns rocked the ship, but it kept flying. The alarmed crew gained control and steered away from hostile airspace, but it was too late. The gunners in the fortress already had their range and another shell bored into the midsection of the cruiser. It struck the magazines, and the resulting secondary explosion blasted the ship in two. The airship’s gases ignited and the fore and aft sections dropped from the sky as separate fireballs, with the loss of all aboard. Their mission completed, the Mustangs again scattered to make for Lunar lines. The flight leader’s lieutenant caught sight of a target he could not pass up, and aimed for the Solar flagship on his way out of the formation. A griffin spotted him and chased after the pegasus. The flying eagle-beasts preferred to fight with their natural weapons, and so the pursuing griffin spread steel-enhanced talons as it closed in behind the lieutenant. It almost snatched him from the air, but the flight leader intervened and wounded it with a burst from his sub-machinegun. The griffin twisted away out of sight. “Don’t be crazy! Get out of here!” ordered the lead Mustang. “One more thing, and I’ll see you back home,” the lieutenant replied, and with a salute rolled away towards the Imperial Sovereignty. He plunged toward the Solar General on the deck below. He fired bursts from his automatic weapon at his golden target. The crew ducked away from the surprise strafing, but the armored general stood his ground. Sparks flew as bullets ricocheted similarly off the warship and the unicorn. Armor pulled the flyer down towards him with his bladed horn. The Mustang beat his wings to escape but could not break away. He was sucked down onto the glowing weapon. They collided, and with a toss of his head General disemboweled the flyer and flung him onto the deck behind. He blinked to push his foe’s blood out of his eye; red drops rolled across his cheek like angry tears. “Send a bomb hauler to the north and prepare to destroy Ponyville. When it’s in position, move the fleet back into range of the Fastness.” “Sir, how will that help? What about the guns?” the vice-admiral protested. “It will test her resolve,” he replied. “She’s only as secure as she allows herself to be. My Empress taught me the moon’s weakness, and I’ll grind my hoof on it.” The trenches were once again still and quiet. Soldiers had rejoined their units and the wounded had been carried behind the lines. Eyes and guns were now pointed to the north trenches, where they knew the enemy lurked. Applejack leaned on her brother’s side. Her once-golden coat was smeared with mud and coagulated blood. Only the mud showed on Big Macintosh because he was already red. He stood watch with his new machine gun. He didn’t look at his sister, but only remained strong and stoic. That was his way of comforting her, and it was working. A stir moved through the ranks; orders began to come in as units were rearranged to prepare for the next phase of battle. General Graywood gathered the intact companies just behind the new front line and readied them to retake the positions lost in the last attack. The 5th Lunar Regulars who had joined the Rough Riders in their trenches were among those called back to form the spearhead. They were replaced by the last-resort reserve troops such as the engineers, some of whom hadn’t been trained for combat. Pinkie Pie gingerly picked her way through the trench toward the Apples. Her mane and tail had been puffy like cotton candy, but now they were deflated. With her mane lying straight and limp, her helmet settled down over her face. She stared up at the metal rim rather than see what she was stepping on. A pistol dangled in her hoof, but she didn’t remember if it was hers and she wasn’t looking at it either. Finally seeing familiar ponies, she rushed up to Applejack and Big Mac, but stopped a few feet away. She was close enough to see her friends more clearly; but they were blood-spattered and fierce, and she withdrew a step. Applejack turned slowly and asked, “Pinkie Pie? Are you alright?” They looked each other in the eyes for a moment, each seeing the other differently than before. The part of Applejack’s mane not shaded from the moonlight by her crumpled hat reminded Pinkie Pie of strawberry shortcake; under other circumstances she would have said something cute about it. This time it was blonde and blood, so Pinkie looked away. Applejack produced a piece of candy and held it out to her friend, but Pinkie shook her head. She had already tossed the cookies she ate before the battle. Big Macintosh nudged Major Applejack to alert her of something to the north. She followed his gaze to a large figure that stepped out of the night onto exposed ground. “I can’t tell what it is,” she admitted. He agreed, but added, “It’s comin’ from a bad way,” and lined up his gun. The shadowy creature lurched toward them. As it got closer they could distinguish the form of a minotaur hobbling on an injured leg but keeping a steady pace. Applejack made out a blue bandolier and notified, “He’s one of ours.” He lurched closer. He snorted angrily and his oversized fist clenched a pistol tightly as if he would crush it. Pinkie Pie peeked over the edge of the trench and spoke uncertainly to the newcomer, “Mister Plinkers?” “Whoa,” Applejack cautioned as she noticed his eyes, which glowed and flickered unnaturally. “Somethin’s not right.” Another Rough Rider climbed out of cover to assist his comrade. The minotaur roared furiously and charged, firing several shots at the good Samaritan. The country soldier was wounded and fell; he would have been killed, but the brute’s rage prevented him from aiming his weapon effectively. Pinkie Pie jumped up and broke her silence, yelling, “Mister Plinkers! It’s me, Pinkie Pie!” The bull whirled to face her and roared again. “I threw you a party! Don’t you remember me?” Applejack pulled the pink one back down before the crazed minotaur shot more rounds in her direction. Big Mac had hesitated to see if Mr. Plinkers could be calmed, but now he fired a carefully measured burst into the attacker’s broad chest. The eerie light left the minotaur as he fell dead. Pinkie Pie jumped back up and rushed to where the big bull lay. “Don’t you remember, Mister Plinkers?” she pleaded with the corpse, “I threw you a party when you came through Ponyville. I was just going to bring cupcakes, but you said you wanted chocolate pie. You were right, it was amazing with extra sprinkles.” Applejack came to her side when she was satisfied that the injured Rough Rider was being tended to. “Messed up shit,” she could only conclude. “I’m sure he remembered you, Pinkie Pie, it’s that damn dark magic.” She led her friend back to the safety of the trench. Pinkie Pie looked up at Big Mac and whispered in disbelief, “You killed Mister Plinkers.” The big colt shook his head and gave a low, doleful, “Eeyup,” before resuming watch on the hostile horizon. The two mares stood silent as tears rolled over Pinkie’s face. Applejack leaned on her brother’s side as the tough cowgirl tried to hold herself together. Pinkie Pie leaned on Applejack. She glanced up at Big Mac, who slowly nodded his approval. PrecipiceChapter 13 A spotter on the northern gun of Crescent Fastness alerted, “Barrage vessel heading to 12-84, I repeat, bomber headed to Ponyville! Light escort vessel covering with smoke screen.” In quick succession, lieutenants reported three urgent messages to Princess Luna: “Solar fleet and army are mobilizing to attack.” “Ponyville is about to be bombed.” “General Graywood is ready to commence the counterattack.” She attempted to remain calm and focused, but the protective orb quivered with her uncertainty as she heard one piece of unexpected news. “Why would they attack the town?” the Princess wondered aloud. “Shoot down the bomber with the north guns.” “Just after we sighted them, they obscured the craft with a smoke screen. We can try, but I don’t think we will stop it in time. Ponyville is so far forward of the line.” Indeed, Crescent Fastness was located much better to guard Ponyville Gap than the town itself. “They wanted us to see the ship first,” she said with certainty. She realized her gravest fear. “Do you mean they’re bluffing?” the lieutenant asked. “No. No, they will kill the inhabitants if they can. But we are supposed to stop them,” she clarified. “I am supposed to stop them.” “If that’s true, you can’t,” the Lunar officer declared. “You can’t fall into their trap. We’ll send someone else, maybe the Mustangs could--” The Princess cut him off, “No one else can stop them in time. I will go.” “We cannot let the Premier of the Republic endanger herself so recklessly,” the lieutenant declared boldly. “I won’t let you go.” The other two agreed but lacked the presumption to give orders to the supreme commander. She addressed two of her trusted magicians who had not left her side. “Halifax, come here. I have taught you this spell, and I think you are ready. Halifax, you must promise me you will hold this enchantment steady until I return. Sidayana, help him.” Halifax stepped forward and vowed, “With everything that I am, your majesty.” He bowed in concentration next to her, and when she turned away, the glistening sphere remained. She brushed past the desperate lieutenant, and answered him, “You can’t stop me. I would not be the Premier if I did not try.” She galloped out the back gate of the fortress and with a powerful beat of her wings she was gone into her native night sky. As the armored Princess took off, the Solar forces in the north trenches attacked. Luna swooped over them and caused lightning to strike a flame tank. The flamethrower burst into a fireball that claimed the crew of the vehicle and those advancing beside it. Infantry fired up at her, but she hid herself in darkness and continued north. The Lunar army was energized by the thought of being led into battle by the alicorn leader herself. General Graywood seized on the inspiration of the moment and ordered his troops to charge into the teeth of the enemy attack. The enemy reeled in shock and the tables were suddenly turned. The Rough Riders did their part, firing into the backs of the retreating foes while the stronger units chased after them. Applejack and Big Mac did their best to pin down the Solar troops who regained their defensive positions until the Lunar army was upon them. Then the Apples could only watch as their comrades blocked their view and carried the fight away through the dark trenches. Luna raced through the sky towards Ponyville, where the Solar bomb ship had almost reached its target. She could beat it there if she teleported, but she had a better idea. She beat her wings as fast as she could and reached out into the night around her with her magic. Her blue light showed above the landscape like a shooting star, and she pulled a torrent of black night essence in her wake. She shot past the destroyer that was escorting the bomber and billowing smoke to obscure it. The crew scarcely spotted her before she was out of their reach. The bomb hauler neared the edge of Ponyville and let the doors in the bottom of its bloated hull drop out of the way. Black steel dove out of the craft down towards the town, where the inhabitants thought they would be sheltered. More and more bombs flooded off the seemingly-endless racks of munitions as the ship pressed ahead to carry its destruction over all. Elemental forces balled around the warrior Princess as she streaked to intercept the deadly objects in their course to the ground. She extinguished her horn and released the ethereal torrent into the sheet of falling explosives. The bombs turned and spun as they were swept northward. Deafening thunder sounded as the incendiary ordinance impacted the outskirts of Ponyville. Fireballs leapt up across the sparsely-occupied countryside, casting the town in stark relief against the darkness. Luna was illuminated in the new light, a speck to challenge the looming vessel. The angry fires reflected on her armor and on her righteous indignation. The force of her magic waned even as the supply of bombs ran low. She glared up at the thwarted bomber and allowed the last bomb to fall past her. She rolled and chased it. She wrapped the bomb in a shimmering aura as she grabbed hold of it with her mind. She pulled up, slinging the projectile back up towards its source. It returned to the bomb bay as if time had rewound, but this time it detonated within the ship. The starboard engine belched flame as its supply of firefly dust reacted to the explosion. The airship listed and the crew struggled to control the fire, but it stayed airborne. She sensed a threat from the earth below and turned to meet it. It was a gunshot; she cast a repulsive spell to stop the bullet. The magic bullet merely glowed blue as it tore through her repulsive spell and her right wing. The wounded alicorn spun helplessly and twisted toward the ground. At the last minute, she stabilized herself and slowed her descent, landing lightly on hooves that could stand on clouds. Luna galloped south, ignoring the pain and the blood to rush back to her loyal soldiers. As the sounds of the fighting and the boom of the big guns filled the air in Crescent Fastness, Halifax held Luna’s shielding spell steady. The magical intruders returned, causing streaks of light to lash out from the orb. Halifax bent them back into it, but the turbulence of the sphere only multiplied under the metaphysical onslaught of the unseen enemy. Sidayana joined in, and working together they restored the shield to full integrity. They enjoyed a moment’s peace but remained wary. Suddenly the orb swelled in front of them and splayed into thrashing strips around a materializing shadow. They bent their concentration to cast out dark magic and repair the spell. As the darkness spread, red beams lashed out of it and disintegrated the white fragments of the orb. They were knocked backwards as their magic blew up in their face. Instead of the glistening sphere stood a triumphant Solar magician. The commando dropped his saddlebags and grinned at his success as he prepared to leave. He disappeared in a flash, leaving his opponents and the gun crews to gape in horror at the explosives on the floor. Halifax glanced at his partner before leaping to his hooves and snatching up the bomb. He teleported away, chasing the trail of the intruder through the magical dimensions. Sidayana cried after him but he was already gone. The garrison saw that the fortress was no longer secure and readied their guns to meet any further UNICROM incursion. Three more flashes lit up the interior of the battery. The guards struck down the commandos with bursts of automatic weapons. Two were killed instantly, but the third dropped his saddlebags. Bleeding from the neck and unable to teleport, he whimpered and trembled in fear. The explosives were detonated remotely. The infiltrator was vaporized in the explosions that blasted through the confined space. Shrapnel was contained by the partitions, but smoke filled the Fastness, blinding the defenders. Lights in the smoke betrayed the entrance of more saboteurs, and within seconds the fortress was full of chaos and destruction. After the last explosion, the survivors were left to feel their way through the haze to find the wounded and assess the battery’s prized guns. Twisted metal and ruined targeting equipment marked the end of Luna’s long guns. The center gun, along with its crew and Sidayana, had been saved by Halifax’s last deed; but only one other remained, and it could only face south. It was not enough to hold off the Imperial armada. The heavy warships sailed past the hills and over the plains and fixed their sights on the Lunar army below. General Graywood’s charge had almost dislodged the enemy from the north trenches when the second wave of Solar forces reached them. The most intense fighting yet erupted as the two attack groups met head-on. The tide of battle hung uncertainly; although outnumbered, Lunar troops were pushing their foes out of the trenches. If they could catch the advancing divisions in the open they might carry the day. At the Solar general’s orders, the fleet fired into the front of the fighting, where soldiers from both sides were still in hoof-to-hoof combat. Huge plumes of dirt burst up from the contested positions, deepening the chaos and carnage. The determined defenders persisted, but soon the earth seethed like a stormy sea as a sky-full of naval guns concentrated their power. Combat was replaced by survival. The relentless resolve to fight until the end evaporated as troops became aware of the fate of Crescent Fastness, which they fought to protect. Neither General Graywood nor Luna were to be seen, and Lunar troops fled in a panic. The whole of the Lunar army scattered at the orders of the lieutenant who assumed command. Big Macintosh, Applejack, and Pinkie Pie left with the rest of the Rough Riders. Shells from the air fleet chased routed soldiers until their location was uncertain. Defeated and dejected, the Lunar forces slipped into the night. Some wondered about the fate of their general. Reports said that he was slain by a unicorn wielding powerful dark magic. Other stories told that the brave general had defeated the magician and was instead killed by the shells from the Imperial fleet. Some held that their hero, true to his word, could not die or retreat, and must still be fighting somewhere in the north trenches. Damage ControlChapter 14 Dusk and Trixie sat in the wagon on the hill and watched the battle unfold. “We should probably leave,” Trixie said. “Trixie didn’t survive this long by hanging around the war.” “I have to see it,” Dusk replied, “It’s all my fault.” The thunder of the guns rolled in from the flashing, fiery horizon. “Come on, you may have screwed up, but there’s no way you could screw up that bad,” Trixie tried to console, bluntly. Little Celestia cringed and whispered under her breath, “Oh yes I can.” Trixie took another swig of her prized cider and offered it to “Dusk”. Dusk attempted to relieve her conscience with the alcohol. “I thought it could be saved, but I guess Equestria is really coming to an end,” she said despairing. “Trixie will be there if it does,” the independent unicorn asserted. She wondered a moment, secretly surprised by her own statement. A sudden string of blasts behind them shook the ground. They turned to see Ponyville illuminated by fire, a Solar bomber bent on pounding it out of existence with bombs. “No! You can’t destroy Ponyville!” Trixie howled angrily at the airship, “They’re supposed to be humiliated, not dead!” Dusk caught sight of a flying figure that intervened between the ship and the town, and noticed that the vessel’s ordinance fell outside the most populated areas. “I don’t think they’re dead,” she reported with renewed interest in the world, setting aside the cider. She knew what happened when there was an explosion in the ship, and thought, “Nice one, sis. But what about the battle? They can’t win without you. Why would you risk defeat like that?” She gasped as the defending Princess stopped in midair and plunged to the ground. “Luna!” she yelled helplessly at the night. “What have I done?” No, it couldn’t be true. Her sister couldn’t die now. Celestia had spent all those years hating Luna, but now that she’d come to her senses she couldn’t accept that. “Wow,” Trixie marveled. Through her cynical and detached exterior, she was moved by what she had witnessed. “I’d like to see Celestia do that.” Dusk pulled away slightly, ashamed at the comparison. “That’s almost enough to make Trixie pick a side,” the performer continued. “Almost.” Galloping hooves approached them from the direction of the Lunar army. They turned to see a surprisingly small soldier asking, “Is it propelled?” The short mare stood on her hind legs to poke her face over the side of the wagon. She was white, and a hazel mane spilled out of her helmet to block one eye. The standard model rifle slung over her shoulder was ridiculously proportioned to its owner. “I’m NLR Private Pearl, I’ve got to get to Ponyville right away. Is this thing propelled? Does it go?” she requested urgently. “Trixie was saving that surprise for later,” Trixie complained. “Yeah, it goes.” Pearl jumped in beside them and said to Dusk, “Sorry Trixie, but ponies’ lives are at stake. Take us to Ponyville.” Trixie frowned and glanced into Dusk’s imploring eyes before actually deciding to cooperate. She looked over the side and used her mind to push away the blocks that held the wheels. She shoved aside some of her trinkets to grab a lever, and the show wagon lurched into motion. After a bumpy ride down the path off of the hill, they joined the main road into town. “There’s another airship coming,” the private explained, “we’ve got to get every pony out before more bombs hit.” They rolled into town where residents still holed up in their houses to ride out the storm. Trixie brought her show vehicle to a stop and turned on the track lights for her stage, which glowed conspicuously through the covering of the wagon. She pulled down the receiver for her loud speaker and shouted, “Ponyville will burn to the ground! Get your asses out here and run for your lives! You heard Trixie! Get the fuck out!” Pearl quipped to Dusk, “Trixie, your friend here has problems.” The private commandeered the microphone and calmly informed, “Sorry, but the town is in immediate danger. This is a Lunar Army notice to evacuate. Please exit the buildings and head west, calmly but quickly. Do not stop to collect your belongings. Thank you.” The second barrage ship was some distance away but steaming to its target at 30 knots. Confused citizens straggled out into the streets. “Please head west, which is that way,” Pearl repeated. Finally, all the ponies poured out of their hiding places, but some stubbornly dragged heavy goods with them. Ponies looking for a ride out were drawn to the brightly illuminated wagon. Pearl, still broadcasting, pushed a panicked colt back and issued notice, “This vehicle is for children and the elderly.” She added as she deflected more unwelcome cargo, “No, we will not take your sewing machine, or your whatever that is.” The first airship, damaged from Luna’s retaliation, was using almost all of its power to stay aloft and could only move out of the way slowly. The fresh bomb hauler had to slow down to avoid colliding with the other vessel, buying the evacuation precious time. With death treading the air toward them, Trixie got in the spirit of things and levitated a barrel and an old crate to the side of the wagon as makeshift stairs. At their parents’ direction, fillies hopped up the new stairs. Trixie tried not to think of the damage they might do to stage equipment. Pearl lifted a little pink pony up from a farmer’s arms. It was the filly who tried to protect the apple stand from Dusk’s thievery the day before. She pointed at the fruit bandit and said, “Hey! It’s you!” Dusk sweated at being pointed out and looked down the street in an attempt to ignore the situation. She saw a shriveled green mare stumbling aimlessly about, and took the opportunity to escape. She came up beside the confused old pony and offered, “Here, uh, granny, let me help. This way.” “How do you know mah name?” Granny Smith replied, squinting at her. The pegasus tugged at her front leg to lead her to the wagon. “Well, alright, calm down dear, I’m comin’,” Granny complained. As Dusk assisted her up the steps Granny thanked her, saying, “Bless you, you’re such a fine young colt, your daddy will be proud.” “I’m sorry about your eyesight,” Dusk muttered under her breath. None too soon, the last refugees were leaving and the last passenger was aboard the wagon. Pearl took up watch with her rifle on the back and shouted to Trixie, “Get us out of here!” The wagon rocked forwards on creaky wheels as the Solar ship loomed above and opened its bomb bays. A dark object slipped through the sky and thudded down on the east end of Ponyville. One after the other fell, tearing through wood, brick, and the eardrums of fleeing ponies. As the commandeered rescue vehicle crossed the edge of town, the path of destruction crossed Main Street, leveling the town hall and everything near it. Some of the fillies on board cried as they saw everything disappear. The bomber spared no ordinance and did not relent until it had reached the west end. The destruction was total. Private Pearl addressed the ponies huddled in the wagon, “I’m sorry about your town, but it’s not really gone, is it? It’s the ponies that make the town.” She elbowed Dusk and confided, “This is what it’s about.” “This is what I’m really here for,” she said, gesturing to the passengers, “not this stuff,” she added, shrugging her war gear. “It makes you feel good, doesn’t it?” “Yeah,” Dusk replied softly, surprised to note that it was better than alcohol. Dark RescueChapter 15 Dusk looked back at the blasted and burning town. The repurposed stage wagon carried her and its cargo of refugees away from danger. At the prompting of a noble soldier, she had helped save a few lives, for a while. However, she had failed to stop the destruction, even with honesty. “Come on, wasn’t that the moral of the story?” she thought. Why didn’t they believe her? She realized now that a better question would be “Why would they believe me?” The dispossessed ruler’s only idea to save Equestria was to appeal to her still-powerful sister. Now that had fallen flat, and hope for the future seemed vain. The doldrums of Dusk’s mind were sharply interrupted when another wisp of green magic floated out of the night in front of her. She quickly willed it away, and it obediently swirled into itself and disappeared. That was little consolation though; it had still found her. She looked at the soldier. Pearl had seen it, and quizzed her curiously, “Girl, are you charmed? I never got my own shooting star thing before.” Dusk was uncertain how to answer, but shook her head. “What’s wrong?” Pearl asked, but looked up from the conversation at the sound of flapping wings. Two pegasus warriors were flying by to the left. They had flown quietly and were quite close already as they swooped by to investigate. The private hailed, “Hey, flyboys! What took you so long? We could have used the help a few minutes ago.” They could now make out the fliers’ glowing green night-vision goggles and flack vests. The colorful mane and tail of the nearest pegasus stood out most of all. For half a second, orange light from the Ponyville inferno reflected across a glistening emblem on her vest. It was a golden circle hemmed with swirling arms: the blazing sun. With a start, Dusk realized that she recognized the pony: it was Captain Rainbow Dash. Pearl’s kindly demeanor evaporated into shock. “Solars!” she gasped, and hastily slung her rifle in front of her. She hunched over her long weapon, leaning her eye that was unobstructed by hair against the barrel. Dusk hunkered down as the private took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. Their ears rang and startled screams came from the back of the wagon. Dash dodged about in the air, and the bullet was lost in the night. Pearl stammered, “Omygoshomygosh, work, stupid thing,” as she took cover and strained on the bolt of the rifle. Trixie disappeared in a pile of her things. Captain Dash flew straight and level, keeping pace with them, presenting a clear target. Pearl successfully chambered the round and got up to take another shot. Dusk looked up from where she was hiding and saw a ripple of flashes from the other side of the road. There was a low clatter and Pearl gave weak sigh instead of a cry. Dusk’s gray coat was painted with red that burst out of her protector’s side from a dozen holes. The private flopped down in front of her, staring with empty eyes. Looking over the body she saw a third Solar Scout holding a sub machine gun whose silencer vented a thin trail of smoke. He had snuck up from the other direction, and he flashed a smile for having fooled the enemy. He was orange with a black mane that melted into the night. The colt hefted his clip and frowned at it; there weren’t enough bullets to finish the job. He swooped to the side and blasted the remaining rounds haphazardly into the workings of the rickety vehicle. It clanged and huffed, but kept moving. He let himself lag behind while he fitted the next clip. Dusk knew what was going to happen; they were only here for one reason. They were here for her, and they would leave no one to tell the tale. What could she do? She couldn’t save the others even if she gave herself up. She looked to Trixie for direction, but the unicorn performer seemed to have abandoned her. “All her tough talk was an act,” Dusk thought, feeling betrayed and alone. She grabbed the rifle in front of her and struggled to pull it out from under the fallen pony. Gripping it desperately, she raised herself up to face the coming attack. They were already there. Rainbow Dash grabbed Dusk in one hoof and the rifle in the other. The two other commandoes pushed their automatic weapons past Dusk to keep her out of their field of fire while they took care of anything else that moved. A strange assortment of pops, bangs, and whines that couldn’t have been gunshots filled the air. The Solar Scouts were lit in neon colors in front of her for a split second before she was swallowed up by a wave of sparks, smoke, and fiery projectiles. They retreated from the bizarre explosion, coughing and cursing. Dash let go of Dusk but took the rifle with her and let it drop onto the road behind them. When the wind blew the smoke out of the window, Dusk saw Trixie standing resolute with an empty and burning box of firecrackers. The reluctant heroine tossed the flaming package overboard and snatched up a small pouch. “Trixie is going to do a magic trick,” she announced. “Do what Trixie says, and she will make you disappear.” She rushed to the back of the wagon and motioned for the huddled passengers to join her. “When Trixie tells you, jump off, fall off, or get thrown off. It’ll hurt but you’ll live.” She took a small black ball from the sack and ordered to Dusk, “Make sure they get off.” Dash’s squad realized the threat was phony and returned to finish the job. Before they caught up, Trixie threw down the little black smoke bomb and shouted, “Now!” She swirled around and tossed a crying filly into a clump of bushes by the road. Dusk and the others looked at her. “What happened?” she demanded. “Ugh, just be ready this time,” she said, already taking out another ball from the sack. At the next obscuring explosion, an old gentlecolt fell clumsily over the low rail. Dusk said, “Sorry,” and tossed the apple vendor’s daughter to the roadside. The pursuers watched unimpressed as the wagon vanished into a puff of smoke and reappeared on the other side. “Lame,” Dash jeered, before thinking again. “Is she still on?” The second Solar flier held up a scope which tracked Celestia’s signal and reported “Yes, Captain.” “Let’s finish them,” the grizzled, black-maned soldier urged, brandishing his weapon. “Hold on Zeze, we’ll take them down when we can see,” Dash ordered. “They’ll run out soon.” A few smokes later and the mad little operation was almost complete. At the next obscuring puff, Trixie assisted a confused Granny Smith into a nasty tumble. Trixie and Dusk winced. The unicorn returned to the controls and steered around the turn in the road. The wagon creaked and clanged louder as the damaged machine choked on its own parts. Trixie held up another black firecracker and indicated, “Last one. Your turn.” “What about you?” Dusk begged. “Why would you do that for me?” “This is bigger than Trixie, isn’t it?” the unicorn said with acceptance. “Go!” Another pop behind the wagon, and Trixie shoved Dusk out the back. The tiny alicorn thudded painfully to the ground, but she turned to see her friend leave. Trixie bowed as her crippled vehicle limped a few hundred yards down the road and stalled. The soldiers swooped in for the kill. Dusk mustered herself to her hooves, determined to keep Trixie from sacrificing herself. She ran out from behind the smoke and into view, shouting, “Hey, over here!” The squad paused in the air and studied the reappeared pony. She reared up and barked, “I’m fucking Celestia and I order you to chase me!” She darted off the road and tried to lose herself in the wilderness. “That’s her! Get her now!” Dash commanded and streaked after her target. Dusk rushed into a forest to evade them like she had the apple vendor. She scraped through the undergrowth and strained her eyes into her dark new environment to pick out the best path. Her large eyes adjusted and guided her through. When she found the space she flapped her wings to gain speed. She wondered at her impulsive deed, thinking, “Why did I do that? I can’t let them take me. They’ll take me back to the ponies I put in power, ponies who want me back the way I was.” She had changed, not completely, but enough to know that she couldn’t bear to be that way again. That was why she had kept her secret in Canterlot. She almost thought she was safe when she caught sight of Rainbow Dash running behind her, tracking her with those green night vision goggles. The racing champion-turned-soldier easily overtook her, and came up beside her and to grab her or knock her over. Dusk dodged away to put trees in between them when she could. When she looked again beside her, she saw nothing. Captain Dash abruptly loomed up ahead of her, steadied and ready to stop her dead in her tracks. Dusk turned sharply and sprinted through difficult tangles with desperate abandon. The rainbow flier cut her off again, and once again she veered away. The dogged blue pegasus blocked her path a third time. Dusk turned to run but stopped when she saw that her good soldier wasn’t moving. She welcomed the chance to regain her breath, but couldn’t fathom what her pursuer was doing. Rainbow Dash flipped up her night vision goggles to stare at Dusk with her own eyes, revealing a menacing scar on her face. She growled, “I don’t have time for this.” She slid a serrated combat knife out of its sheath on her vest. She planted the blade in the ground and stepped back several paces until she was just as far away from it as Dusk was. It was a fair competition, a winner-takes-all, five-yard race. The diminutive grey pony studied the forest and then the knife, calculating her best move. She was obviously not outrunning Rainbow Dash. Perhaps the champion racer and elite soldier had grown overconfident. Perhaps she didn’t realize that Dusk had regained some magic ability. Dusk tried to remember all of Celestia’s fights over the years, but realized she may have lost the knack along with some other parts of her old self. She sprang for the weapon at the same time that she drew it towards herself with her limited magical power, thus beating Dash for control of the blade. The only problem with that assessment was that Dash stood unflinching. She didn’t even try to get the knife. Dusk charged headlong at her and stabbed at her forcefully. Captain Dash dodged sideways, putting her hooves up to deflect the strike and twist Dusk’s foreleg. Dusk was overcome by a painful spasm that caused her to unwittingly drop the blade. In the same smooth movement, Dash pulled Dusk past herself, using Dusk’s momentum to hurl her onto her side. The uncompromising warrior kicked with her back leg, pounding her hoof up from under Dusk’s rib cage to fully incapacitate her. The martial arts of the elite Solar Scouts dictated that at this point Dash should snap the neck of a knife-wielding attacker. Dash stood over her and held her down, consciously omitting this last step. Sensing her captive go limp in surrender, Dash let her breathe and called the other soldiers to their position. Major Zeze Snaps dropped lightly to the ground beside them. Some moments later the other scout arrived. His shouldered weapon caught in a bramble but he forced through it, dragging the plant behind him onto the scene. He stood panting and gawked at Dusk, wondering if she could really be such a high-level target. Zeze cut him a sideways glance before refocusing intensely on Rainbow Dash. The air captain put up a hoof and gestured to return to base. “We have what we came here for, let’s go,” she ordered. “We didn’t finish our objectives,” Zeze contended. “We should hunt down those ponies back there. Every pony with the target is also a target.” Dash repeated sternly, “I said, let’s go. There was only one soldier, the rest looked like civilians. They probably don’t know anything.” “Rainbow Dash,” Zeze argued, intentionally ignoring rank, “Are you getting sentimental? We don’t shirk orders.” Captain Dash glared straight through her subordinate’s goggles and declared conclusively, “WE GO, Major. This one’s our priority. We already made a lot of noise, and Lunar troops are bound to react. If we don’t take her back now we might not meet ANY objectives.” Dash grabbed her knife and sheathed it forcefully. “Don’t question me again.” They collected Dusk and carried her away just above the treetops. They headed back east, toward Canterlot. DisciplesChapter 16 After a tense ride at gunpoint in the back of a covered sky carriage, Dusk was delivered to a secure site in Canterlot. She was hastily ushered out of the carriage and into a doorway. As she walked between protective rows of security officers, she could make out the courtyard of the Royal Magic Academy. She could tell by the shade of the sky, that it was still dusk. Moreover, she could feel the sunken sun, and somewhere above it, the moon. “Luna must be alive,” she thought hopefully. “For now,” she reconsidered. Out beyond the western horizon, her sister was defeated, wounded, and hunted. Clearances were exchanged before she was allowed past the reinforced gate of the Academy’s research division. The branch started out as independent research, but over time had become the crown’s best facility for the development of its own magic, which was often weaponized. The guards pushed her into a dimly lit library, where a number of significant figures were gathered. Sci/magic analysts in white coats discussed and debated the particulars of the problem at hoof with Doctor Twilight Sparkle, one of the head researchers at the Academy. The purple unicorn wore a formal blue magician’s cloak. She balanced her attention between the two analysts and her spell books, using their data to refine the parameters of the magic required. After the destruction of Crescent Fastness, General Armor had rushed back from the front to oversee this matter personally. The other commanders would be sufficient to push through to the rest of the New Lunar Republic now that its principal line of defense had been breached. Now he listened with only some comprehension as the experts debated the merits of active versus inactive substituent for trans-conscious temporal reversal. It was not his usual type of magic. “I just don’t see how such a regeneration can be powered without animated substituents,” one scientist argued. “Now that I’ve reached deeper levels of the sub-ether, I don’t think power will be a problem,” Twilight rebutted. “What I’m worried about is control. Involving more minds, even simple minds, can disrupt a psionic spell slightly. The natural intelligence of dark magic should help to steer the process, but I was hoping to reserve that to counter the resistance of the subject.” Armor interrupted, wondering, “Why would she resist? We’re going to make her great again!” “Oh, the subject will certainly resist,” the analysts agreed. “We indexed the soul strains in the ichor and proto-matter from her body that was left behind at the palace. The substances lost are so high in particular psycho-ethical manifestations that some personality characteristics may have changed. The subject is still basically self-equivalent, but is imbalanced and may perceive things differently. Since the consciousness is not entirely identical to the original, some conflict is necessary to make a resolution.” Twilight noticed her brother growing frustrated with the obscuring jargon, so she translated roughly, “She’s confused and might not remember who she is. That would make it seem like a mental invasion.” “General, here is the target of Operation Starcatch,” the guard next to Dusk interjected. Although the conversation was of great importance to Dusk, she had only partially been paying attention to what was being said. Her mind raced to find a way to deal with two unicorns with whom she had a complicated past. The researchers and the General turned to study her lesser incarnation. Under his golden mask, the General gave her an empty stare as if his eyes were desperately hungry for more than he was seeing. The product of a noble family of Canterlot, Shining Armor was a gifted student at the military academies. A shield was his cutie mark; he had a knack for defensive magic and a strategic mind. He had risen quickly through the ranks. Celestia had first noticed Twilight Sparkle, but soon discovered her brother as well. She had been grooming the two of them for some time to suit the roles she wished for them. A few years ago, she had moved Twilight to continue her research in the country; they were easier to manipulate when they were separated than when they were together. At the previous General’s death, the experienced officers expected one of them would be appointed. Celestia, however, was looking for someone more malleable. She had watched Shining Armor’s progress, and picked him out from the other contenders in her mind. He was strong, intelligent, and best of all, he was a true believer. While the politicians and high command outwardly accepted her pretense as a goddess, they were close enough to be familiar with her limitations and her indecorous lifestyle. Celestia secretly appeared to him at night and told him he had an incredible destiny by her side that neither the other officers nor his sister would understand; then she put him back to sleep, leaving him to think it was a dream. She snuck him special looks from the stage when he came to worship at the Cathedral of the Sun. His obsession with her rose beyond that of the clergy as he drank in more of her surreptitious attention. She was pleased to see that he tried to hide this from his sister. One night, the Princess was bored and impatient. She appeared to him again, and this time told him he was a powerful being called General. She claimed she loved him, and they mated. She vanished again; the next day he was formally promoted. General Armor, as he would only be called, did excel in command, but he was not yet as ruthless as she had hoped. He continued to rendezvous with his divine succubus in the palace, but she became increasingly abusive. Already psychologically dependent on her, he quietly endured her seductive tortures. To finish her sibling projects, Celestia staged a Lunar assassination attempt in Canterlot which resulted in the death of their mother. Celestia did not allow the stallion to grieve; adding guilt to pain, she reminded him that he was her General and that he was no longer part of that family. She communicated how he was to express his feelings by having his brilliant armor nailed into his skin, never to be removed. The embossed chevrons of his rank replaced his cutie mark permanently. She grew cold to him. He found the back way into the palace blocked to him as she pursued other lovers. Then her masterpiece was complete. He conflated his personal desires with what she demanded of him. As a desperate lover, he needed to win back her favor. As a slighted warrior, he had to prove his strength. The son and the sun worshiper found no purpose but vengeance upon the murderers and heretics. All of his mind and his being became bent upon killing Luna and destroying her republic. Celestia could finally relax again, knowing that if anything could be done to undermine or threaten her sister, it was already being done. Twilight Sparkle’s gaze was much different, as was her memory of Celestia. Her face showed not surprise, but rather the demeanor of a doctor assuring a patient that they can be treated. She was professional, but her eyes betrayed her excitement and perhaps hope. If she was successful she would surely receive official recognition and her mentor’s praise. Celestia had found it expedient to keep up her benevolent public persona around her magical disciple. Having known the ruler as a kind master through her youth, Twilight trusted her own experience more than anything negative she heard about her mentor. Her cloistered academic lifestyle made it easier to maintain her illusion. After the incident with the Elements of Harmony, Celestia found her more necessary but also more harmonious. The ruler-magician was forced to learn how to keep her promising student happy from Twilight’s reports on friendship. To the empress’s chagrin, the hailed “magic of friendship” failed to produce any more results that could be used to defeat her enemies. When the useless friendships were split by the first war, Celestia transferred her to military research in Canterlot. It was about that time that Twilight’s mother was killed. Celestia allowed her to grieve her mother’s death, but not have full closure, hinting that she could attempt to communicate with the departed soul through dark magic. In time, the young magician came to realize that she would not be able to get her mother back, but she had already crossed the line. It became difficult for her to connect to her remaining friends, because she was ashamed of what she had done in the laboratory. That meant the only place left for her was to continue her studies in a military direction. The dark magic she developed was passed on to combat magicians and also served to counteract the effects of the Elements on her heart. It was an unusual sight to see them together. They were to some measure estranged. “Dusk” quickly wondered how she would speak to both of them. General Armor would not, of course, mention their twisted romance, but he would wish to hear from her as the cruel empress. Twilight’s delusion was of a reluctant ruler who did what she had to do to protect her ponies. She could simply maintain her public persona and the General would probably be complicit as usual. The real problem was that no pony there would tolerate what she really wanted to say: “Do not make me the same way again.” She had predicted that they would try to fix her with magic. She had hoped that their efforts would be limited to restoring her body or magical abilities, but she knew from their talk of “resolving” her consciousness that they aimed to reset her mind to its previous state. She could pretend that they had made a mistake, and that she was not Celestia. She could hear herself now: “I’m not Celestia, I’m just some alicorn you found while tracking her.” She could not afford to lie so poorly. Neither could she tell the truth. She could perhaps navigate a conversation with her disparate pupils, but only as long as she didn’t say anything useful. She therefore committed to her only remaining option. General approached and bid the guards leave. He towered over Dusk with his head high, and glared down disapprovingly. “Are you sure it’s her?” he demanded as if cheated. Dusk stiffened herself rather than cower away to avoid angering him further. “That’s definitely Celestia, or what’s left of her,” Twilight assured. An analyst added, “With the amount of proto-matter we recovered at the scene of the incident I’m surprised she’s not smaller.” Wary of insulting his idol of pain and pleasure, General bowed and said, “Forgive me, your Highness.” He boasted, “I’ve almost destroyed the Republic. Soon Nightmare Moon will die, and you will rule all that is rightfully yours.” Twilight considered her brother as he spoke. He glanced sideways to see her approval, but she avoided his eyes and turned to the subject. Dusk stared up at them blankly. Twilight posed a pressing question, “What happened to you? Did you see who did it?” Dusk remained silent. “Can you understand us?” Twilight continued. After a sufficient wait an analyst put in, “It’s possible that she can’t speak or hear normally.” General Armor was severely disappointed. He had waited so eagerly to tell her that this seemed a further insult. He straightened up and forced a stoic calm. He had waited years already, and would not have to wait much longer. “Come on,” Doctor Sparkle said and motioned expressively. Dusk followed obediently and all moved into an adjoining chamber. The new space was better lit, with lamps around the walls. There were fewer bookshelves; the purpose of the room lay in the center. A raised dais overlooked an elliptical basin that was hollowed out of the floor. The still water of the shallow pool surrounded another pony-sized platform. A baby dragon, as purple as his master, carried a silver pitcher across the chamber. He tipped it so that its gargoyle-mouth spout disgorged the last measure of liquid into the offering pool. He put the pitcher away and met the distinguished company back at the pool, where he waited at attention. He pushed out his chest and folded his hands, as if they had come to praise him for accomplishing some marvelous task. Twilight almost rolled her eyes; he was never so formal when they were doing research. It was better to recognize him than to deal with domestic discipline in front of the General and perhaps Celestia herself. “Thank you, Spike.” The dragon gave a slight bow before his attention finally came off of himself. He scanned the ponies a few times as if one was missing. Spike cocked his head at Dusk and asked, “That’s her?” “Yeah, we know,” Twilight replied offhand. “We will be using unconscious offerings. Fetch the morninglight incense to begin with.” Her assistant ascended a narrow staircase that circled the wall and gave access to a level of cabinets set into the wall. He brought down a lacquer dish full of golden-brown powder and set it by the rim of the offering pool. The old spell book provided full instructions, including the necessary ingredients, but only for performing the operation on a normal pony. “These are clearly insufficient amounts,” the analysts expressed. Twilight agreed, “We also need more refined substituents to restore a Princess of her caliber.” Spike retrieved various items from the stores as requested: nard, white roses, flour, gold, gems, and a few wholesome vegetables were laid around the offering pool. This continued until it was hemmed in with items pure and precious. Lastly, Spike poured in a black pitcher of fresh equine blood several times, to activate the pool. It rippled and then stilled, waiting to be alive. Dark MagicChapter 17 As preparations for the ritual were being made, Dusk could not shake the question she had been asked. “What happened to me?” she wondered. She reviewed the memory of the last sunrise again. In excruciating pain, Celestia had been ripped apart from the inside. She shrank away from the light, humiliated, and all of her strength and glory fell away from her and splattered around her. “Who did this to me?” The sun itself had seemed to betray her, and as the soupy flesh and pieces of her soul slipped off of her remaining form, the piercing rays ignited on her skin. She was quickly free of its grip as the terrible light fell back to where it came, and she raced to the bath to extinguish her burning body. The fire on the outside was put out, but now she considered her shedding of ash and the embers that tormented her inside. She was still slowly burning alive. “I’m dying!” she realized with a start. The sun was not solely responsible for her condition; she had been haunted for days. Whatever had struck her on the balcony had been building inside her for some time. All of her cherished pride, hatred, and lust had turned to self-loathing, regret, and despair. She knew herself a thousand years long enough to know that those were not her natural thoughts; from whom they had come and gained such fatal power she could not tell. She certainly did not think her sister was capable of such subtle and potent magic, nor had she felt Luna’s presence. Certainly if she had done it, she should have been better prepared for war. Moreover, she obviously wanted the sun in the sky, and spent her time counteracting her own darkness. The offerings were gathered and Spike drew up quietly beside the General, who was still staring at Dusk as if it was a form of meditation. The little dragon snuck a finger onto the golden armor and passed it over an indentation from a bullet. “Badass,” he muttered. Twilight ordered, “It’s time for all of you to leave.” “I want to be here when she comes back,” General Armor protested. “I need to introduce the shadow sprite to the subject,” Doctor Sparkle explained. “If you would like to be chosen, you could stay, but I suggest you leave me to my work,” she threatened. “You can join me before I start the main spell.” Spike and the analysts already understood, and gladly retreated. General Armor waited almost awkwardly until the others had left. “Take care of yourself, Twily.” She froze. She had wanted a sign of concern or care from him, but he had picked a fine time. “If you are worried about losing me to the shadows, you’re about a year late.” He seemed as though he would reply, as though it would be important; but he didn’t. Dusk knew he could say the same thing back to her, but only if he had come to terms with himself. On his way out, he stepped in between the magician and Dusk. Blocked from Twilight’s view, he tapped his bladed horn on that of the tiny alicorn and whispered insistently to Celestia, “I need you. But if you can hear anything, remember this: you need me.” Dusk couldn’t help flinching away slightly from the contact. As he moved on and the doors were sealed, she was greatly relieved that she was left alone with Twilight and not him. Her student beckoned to the middle of the offering pool. Dusk obliged as she began to grasp the opportunity the situation afforded. She waded uncomfortably through the cold water and took her seat facing the enchanter’s dais. She was now in an appointment with Twilight and only Twilight. If there was any sympathy to be had, it would be from her. The magician looked to each lamp on the wall and extinguished it until full blackness covered the room. She sat and communed with esoteric forces, murmuring foreign phrases. The vocalizations were not for the benefit of outside listeners but because the conversation inside was so fervent that it was not wholly contained. Twilight projected an eerie, half-visible glow. Dusk sat and bowed her head meekly. “Twilight Sparkle,” she whispered sweetly. Twilight fell silent and opened her eyes. That was exactly what she hoped to hear, said just that way, but she had thought to hear it after her work was completed. “It’s me Twilight,” Dusk whispered again. Twilight matched her low tone, but could not help a small exclamation. “Celestia! I’m here, I’ll take care of you.” “Of course you will,” the little one said, striving for her old mellifluous voice through her scratchy throat. “Do you trust me?” “Of course, Celestia, I always have,” Twilight assured. “Please do one thing for me,” Dusk asked of her faithful student. “Anything,” Twilight replied automatically, but experience cautioned her. Dusk looked up and met her friend’s gaze. “Please heal my body and restore my magic, just don’t change my mind,” she requested urgently. Doctor Sparkle objected, “But Princess, your consciousness is the gateway to the rest of you, that’s just how it works. What was wrong with you before?” Dusk ignored the charged question and pressed further. She drooped her ears and concluded wistfully, “Then don’t change me at all.” “Why not?” the magician inquired. “What was wrong with you before?” she demanded firmly. Dusk lowered her head again and confessed, “Everything. I was horrible.” Doctor Sparkle’s purple brow furrowed as her suspicions were realized. “Now, Celestia,” she rebuked, “you are obviously confused. I don’t know what they did to you, but they must have filled your head with lies. Nightmare Moon herself might have corrupted you with her deceiving influence.” Frustrated by her own myths, Dusk corrected in her own voice, “There is no Nightmare Moon. You defeated her! You should know better.” Twilight raised her eyebrows and accused, “There you are, impostor spirit. That is exactly why I will fix your mind. If you’re not our Celestia, you’re not our Princess.” “No! Please stop!” Dusk pleaded. “I’m not your Celestia. I’m Dusk, I’m different. Please, don’t—“ she fumbled for an expression for her threatened identity, “—kill me.” Twilight brushed off the appeal, “Nonsense, I’m going to make you better. Now be quiet and let me introduce you.” The magician plunged back into her summoning spell. The eerie glow collected around the dark practitioner’s horn. As she cast a pink light around it, her own energy merged with jagged bands of black light. Doctor Sparkle kept careful hold of the unnatural plasma as she rose to her hooves. She leaned forward and released a bolt of dark lighting. The sprite slithered through the air and circled Dusk. As it came back around in front of her, it plunged into her eyes. She gave a startled yelp as the icy presence coursed through her body. Her muscles seized up as the agonizing frost explored her flesh. It crept back up her spine and pooled in her brain, where it ripped open all of her memories. Flashing images called forth emotions as the thing studied the ill humors that she had only partially lost. She almost collapsed forward as it rushed out of her and returned to the magician who had called it. “That was quick,” Doctor Sparkle remarked. “Have you met before?” Dusk growled at her tormentor until the pieces of malice left behind from the thing’s inquest could be returned to their home in her subconscious. They did, however, give her an idea. “Fuck sympathy!” she thought. “It’s time to give her a preview.” Suddenly assertive, she leaned toward Twilight and spread her wings behind her. “So you want Celestia back, do you?” she demanded loudly. Twilight was confused but unintimidated. “Do you want to make me proud?” the alicorn sneered. “I was always proud of you. I was proud that I tricked you so completely. You thought you were the do-gooder servant of a kind and gracious ruler, while I stalked you like a wolf. I’ve never seen a unicorn so smart and so blind. Your life was my best joke.” Twilight held her ground and returned a despising look. “All those years you researched friendship were so useless,” Dusk or Celestia continued. “It was so hard to pretend to be sad when all your pathetic friends left you—I wanted you for myself. I never let you fall in love. Did you think it was just coincidence that every colt that got interested in you disappeared? You are so gullible!” “Don’t talk about my friends,” Twilight warned. “Colts didn’t get interested in me anyway,” she retorted lamely before doubt entered her mind. “Not very much.” “What was I supposed to do with all that shit about kindness, generosity and stuff?” Dusk continued Celestia’s rant, “I burned every report you sent me.” Doctor Sparkle’s jaw dropped at the thought of losing years of research. “That’s not true, the Princess assured me—“ “I assured you that the ghost of your mother would make you feel better.” The gray one continued her aggressive confession, “Why do you really think I assigned you to dark magic? I was hoping some evil spirits could cure you of all that unbearable harmony. Sure enough, give you a budget and some time alone in the dark and soon you are killing on command.” “Don’t you dare mention my mother.” Twilight deflected, “Those test subjects were guilty of horrible crimes. We did what we had to do for Equestria.” She wondered why she was still listening to this decepticon. Dusk pushed further, “Of course they were guilty, guilty of displeasing me! Rationalization is the key to genocide, my little demon. Do you want Celestia? Celestia doesn’t want you. Did you like those special little touches? They’ll run out soon. I already realized you’re too powerful to risk getting you in bed like I did with most of my other appointments. You’re too powerful to live. After the war is over, I’ll put you through the rites of Kal Mortis and feast on your energy—that’s the only part of you I’m interested—“ Dusk was suddenly cut short. “SHUT UP!” Twilight screamed. She strangled Dusk with her mind and levitated her into the air. Twilight’s eyes filled up with crackling black energy. “Maybe I am cured of mercy,” she fumed in a distorted voice. Dusk frantically clawed at her throat as her dark disciple used every last ounce of restraint not to crush it completely. Twilight waited till Dusk was almost unconscious before dropping her back to the hard stone. Both of them gasped for breath; Twilight Sparkle cleared her eyes as she fought to repossess her own mind. “You’re lucky—“ she panted, “I need you alive.” They both recovered for a moment. “That’s Celestia,” Dusk wheezed, “if you bring her back…” “I’ll have some questions for her, but you...” Twilight lowered her horn at the limp subject, “You don’t talk.” Dusk tried to repeat her warning, but found her vocal cords immobilized. Twilight turned and walked to the door, where she signaled for her assistant. Spike slipped inside and closed the door behind him. “What happened to you?” he asked, equally surprised and concerned. “I had another episode,” she confessed. “Get me a small dose of the halicosis antidote.” Seeing a question on his face, she clarified, “Yes, the little blue pill.” “Are you sure you’re okay to go on with this?” Spike checked. “I’m fine,” she responded impatiently, “Just get me that blue pill. Don’t get Armor quite yet.” Spike was still doubtful, but nodded and was about to leave on errand. Twilight put out a hoof to stop him. She looked back at Dusk, who lay pleading with her eyes and mute lips. The little dragon was kept in suspense for a long moment. “Yeah?” he asked. Twilight whispered something in his ear. “Really?” he said, scratching his head. She nodded, and he promptly retired. He soon returned with precious cargo. She took the pill immediately. The second item was a tiny red gem which she hid on her person. The VaultChapter 19 “Dusk” came to in the basement of the library. She whined and shuddered as she recalled the assault of her former identity. Spike called out, “Twilight, it worked! Nice to see you actually complete a spell.” “Hmph. Good thing I knew how to reverse the summoning. I always learn a spell forwards and backwards. That’s the mark of a true magician,” Doctor Sparkle retorted. “Let me see her,” she said as she approached her patient, checking vital signs. Dusk sobbed and looked up at Twilight, at first with fear, but after a moment she guessed that Twilight had saved her life. Her time with herself filled her with violation and shame. Twilight could only imagine how much pain she had just caused “the subject”. Twilight herself reeled with the blows on her own identity she had received from the day’s events. Her lifelong teacher and mentor had returned as, well, Molestia. How could she have been so blind for so long? She had turned her back on good friends and given so many parts of herself over to increasingly disturbed research. Her life’s work was a lie for a liar. “I can’t afford to think all this right now,” she told herself, and partially succeeded in compartmentalizing. She had a lot of practice. Still, she was very distraught with and for this tiny alicorn. They gazed at each other, longing for some kind of solace. Spike put in, “I think normal ponies would hug at this point.” Neither of them was used to hugging other ponies, and recent shocking events had only reinforced those barriers. Twilight held Dusk’s hoof. Or Celestia’s. Or whatever. They shared a few tears. After a polite wait, Spike alerted, “That’s okay, but we’ve really gotta move. When your best bro over there wakes up, he’s gonna be so pissed.” “Yeah, come on,” she said, helping Dusk up to her hooves. She turned to leave, but Dusk caught her. “Wait!” pleaded Dusk. “I—I can’t leave. Is there a way to turn me into—into a Princess without making me not… me? Some pony has to raise the sun.” “That was my only shot,” Twilight explained impatiently, “The Princess—you—she had me researching… not restoration spells.” She clarified, “Mostly destructive magic. Anyway, there’s nothing more in this library that can help. Maybe if we had a few months, but we have minutes.” “Would any magic artifacts help?” she suggested. “Not any of the ones I have access to, which is most of them,” Twilight returned, “maybe the most powerful relics in all of Equestria could help, but those are kept in a secret vault that only Celestia can open,” she replied sorrowfully. Dusk remained unmoved. Twilight recalculated, “Oh. Of course, um, can you get us into the Vault?” Dusk nodded, wincing at every reference to herself as Celestia, but only because it was true. She stumbled to the wall and examined the bookcases. She moved to one and started pushing on it feebly. Twilight intervened and shoved the shelf out of the way, but only a blank patch of wall was revealed. The student stepped back and waited on the master. Dusk attempted to use her magic but nothing came. She strained at it for a moment before panting and despairing of the attempt. “Let me help. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I can give you some of my magical energy,” she volunteered. “This might be a bit weird, but calm down,” Twilight warned all involved. She stood in front of Dusk. Leaning down to her, she gingerly touched the tip of her horn to Dusk’s stubby horn, bringing their faces uncomfortably close for two socially awkward ponies. Twilight blushed but started the spell. For unicorns, this might be considered an intimate gesture; it would definitely qualify as PDA. Light emanated from her horn and settled around her partner’s. “Yeah,” Twilight thought, “this isn’t something you usually do with a manifestation-of-part-of-a-trusted-mentor-who-actually-turned-out-to-be-a-psychopath, aka. a stranger.” Dusk was still crying a little, but started to smile. Could she help it if it felt good? Twilight blushed even more. “Hold it together, Twilight, just remain professional,” she almost begged herself. Her professional side was the only part of her that wasn’t totally freaking out about everything. She finished, and the only light that remained was a bright yellow glow on Dusk’s forehead. “That’s all I have right now,” Twilight sheepishly admitted, “I got pretty worn out with all those heavy-duty spells.” “Whoa,” Spike interjected, still staring. “Very ‘dear Princess Celestia’,” he insinuated, to Twilight’s chagrin. Dusk was still smiling. Twilight pulled away and glared at her assistant. “Oh, hey,” he put his hand out and offered, “what happens in the library stays in the library.” “Just please tell me you can do it,” she implored the reenergized alicorn. Dusk nodded and concentrated her newfound strength on the wall, which shimmered before disintegrating around a door that seemed to burst into existence. Another spell and symbols on the door glowed, and it swung open. “I don’t get it. I checked everywhere for hidden entrances! There’s no way this has been here all along,” Miss Sparkle exclaimed, losing some of her self-assurance. She had always believed she knew everything there was to know about her library. “I mean, way to go,” she corrected. “It wasn’t here,” Dusk revealed, before lowering her head and looking away. She was finally bashful after proving her worth as Celestia. Spike hadn’t taken them seriously at first, but now marveled, “Whoa, we’re actually going to THE secret Vault of Wonders?” The door opened only to black. Dusk walked in unhesitating. Twilight took in the library for a moment before following. After Spike also entered, the door closed itself. The little dragon smacked into something warm. “Twilight!” he complained, “Give us a little light, will ya?” She gulped and whispered back, “I’m COMPLETELY used up. I never let that happen.” A gleam of yellow illuminated Dusk’s face up ahead, urging, “Come on!” The colleagues hurried ahead to catch up with their guide, who easily navigated the familiar passage. They stepped into a large chamber. At Dusk’s signal, a great glass sun shone out from the wall and revealed sights unseen to Equestria. Enchanted artifacts were mounted on pedestals throughout the room. Some were grand, beautiful, or threatening, and seemed as though they should feature in vaults of their own. Green orbs swirled silently through the water in a silver basin. A daunting, unidentifiable mask brooded with a dim red behind its eyes. A huge sword with a winged emblem as its hilt hummed on its mount. Others appeared less impressive. A small plant put out flowers of every color. One case even seemed to be empty. Twilight was transfixed marveling at the legendary magic around her. “What is this about?” Spike said as he reached curiously into the vacant case. Dusk gave a cry and sprang towards the little dragon. He pulled back and reacted, “Geez, what’s the big deal?” Twilight cautioned, “Remember, Spike, these relics are here because they are too precious or too deadly for the outside world to handle.” Dusk breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m just glad he didn’t—That an incident has been avoided.” She glanced timidly towards a fabulous display before retreating to the other side of the room. The dragon noted her reaction and fixed his eyes on the rich sight she had fled from. “The Elements of Harmony!” Spike exclaimed. He ran towards the brilliant jewels, whose sensuous beauty was matched only by their metaphysical benevolence. He stopped in front of the golden stand and reached out to touch Loyalty. “It looks…delicious.” “Hold it, dragonborn,” Twilight scolded and yanked him back by his tail. “You’ve been a good assistant and a good friend, but if you eat the Elements of Harmony, I’m going to use every spell in the Hoxsur Anguis on you.” “I wasn’t actually gonna eat ‘em,” he complained. “In fact, I was about to suggest we use their power to fix Celestia.” “Of course!” Twilight burst out, “I still remember when we used the elements to transform Nightmare Moon back into Luna. This has to be the answer.” A rare smile broke on her face; she was content that the puzzle was solved, and being with her own element made her feel somehow fulfilled. It brought up the memories that were actually good, of times of peace and friendship. “It wouldn’t work,” Dusk interrupted from behind a pillar. Still hiding from the virtuous elements, Celestia shared her story. “When I first met the Elements, I thought they were mine like everything else. But when I touched them, it hurt so bad. They were so powerful and good, and I was so bad. They terrified me, so I hid them. When Nightmare Moon attacked me, I reached for the worst thing I could think of to fight her with. I used the Elements against her. They wouldn’t let me hurt her like I wanted, so I made them send her to the moon. They almost backfired. It was only for a bit, but I could tell they could have destroyed me. I could never go near them again. That’s why I used you and your friends to stop Nightmare Moon when she came back. I only appeared when I was sure you were done using their magic.” “If that’s true, why didn’t they destroy Nightmare Moon?” Twilight questioned. “Luna was a good pony,” was Dusk’s only answer. Doctor Sparkle began to analyze the situation: “So it was true—the Elements of Harmony did restore Luna to harmony by removing her shell of resentment, leaving only the good pony inside. But you think that is different from you?” “Luna said it felt good when they fixed her, but I only ever felt pain from them,” she related, nervously peeking at the fabulous crystals. “If we can’t use the Elements of Harmony, what else is here?” Twilight asked, disappointed. Dusk considered the question, and thought aloud, “Well, the next most powerful thing I know of in here is Discord.” She knew before she said it that it was a horrible idea. Twilight and Spike blurted, “What did you say?” They got goose bumps as they were suddenly aware of a tall, misshapen figure across the chamber. “She…I woke him up once before,” Dusk revealed. “Not fully, just to where I could talk to him, but he wasn’t very cooperative.” “Why were you talking to Discord?” Spike inquired. “I wanted to learn about his dark powers,” she admitted. “He thought I was really funny for some reason.” “We obviously couldn’t let him use that power again. We could ask him what to do, but we couldn’t trust his answers,” Twilight finished the matter. “Is there some kind of record for this vault that lists what each artifact does?” Dusk agreed, “Oh yeah, the manifest. I should have thought of that first.” She trotted to the wall and pulled a book off a shelf. She passed it to Doctor Sparkle, who hastily opened it and entered her native literary world. Twilight found the information she was looking for and began to read off the notable entries: “Invisibility. Subject may not become visible again. “Sword will attack anyone who threatens the bearer of the matching gauntlet, even the bearer of the gauntlet. Gauntlet cannot be removed. “Wearer of mask will become a vessel for the spirit of Kal Mortis. Warning: Kal Mortis.” “Whoa, those really suck,” Spike remarked. Twilight continued undeterred. “Oh, these are better: “When planted spreads extremely fast. Will grow fruit, vegetables, grain, poison, and carnivorous plants. Well, it’s sort of better. Let’s go for something more relevant,” she said as she sped up, scanning page after page of the most promising entries. She rattled off a paranormal laundry list, “Mind reading, transfers consciousness, crosses dimensions.” She frowned. “That’s the last entry. I don’t think any of these will help us.” Dusk was crushed. “Really? There’s nothing at all?” “Well, this is interesting,” Twilight held out unlikely hope. “It says, ‘unknown.’” “Unknown?” Spike asked curiously. “It’s a book, but I guess they still don’t know what it does,” Doctor Sparkle surmised. She turned the page and skimmed its history. “In 1374 the book was rediscovered by a librarian at the Archives of Asturcón. Experts dispute records concerning its previous history. The book was found to be occupied by a magic presence, and the librarian began a cult centering on the artifact. Those involved revered it as a source of guidance. When it was found that members of the cult would no longer worship the Princess, Imperial troops hunted them to near extinction and the book was brought here.” She spotted the usage notes at the bottom of the entry and read, “Author unknown. Intent unknown. Do not open. Do not read.” “I might not take my own advice on that one,” Dusk quipped, “I’d go for any kind of guidance right now.” “J 59,” Twilight noted the reference number. Spike instinctively traced the organized layout of the Vault to a pedestal on the north side and alerted the others to his position. There lay the ancient book, its cover worn and cracked. The golden unicorn head embossed onto the front had lost its luster. “I found the book, but there’s no way I’m touching that thing,” Spike announced. “We have a deal,” he reminded Twilight. “All right, Spike, I won’t make you,” she acknowledged. “What’s that about?” Dusk asked. “Spike here would do anything for me,” Twilight explained, “except let any spirits into his mind.” Spike crossed his arms and repeated bluntly, “You can get possessed all you want, but this space is not for rent.” Doctor Sparkle turned to Dusk and offered, “I’ll open it, if you’re sure you want that. I do have that kind of experience. Books are my thing, anyway.” The tiny alicorn nodded. Twilight approached the object of their discussion and steadied herself. She opened the cover gingerly, but her mind was wary for any sign of trouble. The smell of dusty parchment was the only thing that came out at her. “It’s—blank,” she remarked disappointedly. She held up a page to show off the fragile, empty surface. “It’s black,” Dusk commented. “No it isn’t, it’s white. Well, it’s very faded, but…” Twilight paused. “Does it look black to you?” “Coal,” Dusk insisted. “Weird.” "So it looks different to you than to me?” Doctor Sparkle wondered. “Spike, what do you see?” “OH MY GODDESS!” the little dragon exclaimed indignantly. “What did I just say?!” He grabbed expressively onto the sides of his head and announced, “Occupado! I’m not looking at your crazy paper.” “Sorry,” Twilight apologized. “You’re right. I wish I hadn’t started myself.” She turned her attention back to the manuscript. “I’ll see what I can find.” She stared into the apparent blankness of the parchment and opened herself up to sense any alien feelings or suggestions. She emphasized her questions in her mind: What should be done with Dusk? How can the sun be raised again? She took a hoof-full of pages and pulled open a new section near the middle of the book. She blinked at it and asked importantly, “Did I just turn the page?” “A lot,” Dusk reported. Twilight applied herself to it again, but saw no further signs. “It’s not going to show me anything. I think it might be waiting for you, Dusk.” “Creeeeeepy,” Spike murmured. Twilight agreed, “If we let it choose the page, we let it be in control. Remember, it’s here because it’s dangerous.” Dusk nodded, but replied, “If it has any answers for me I want to know.” Perilous VisionChapter 20 Dusk stepped up to the book and warily took a peek. Nothing jumped out at her, so she looked closer. The darkness of the page did not appear to be its own color; it was as if it had been written and re-written until all the space was filled up with ink. She took a deep breath, stared into it and concentrated on perceiving as much as she could. “Hm, maybe this page isn’t so special,” she remarked after a while. She was about to turn away when she noticed something moving at the edge of the page. “Wait, what’s that? Do you see that?” “No,” Twilight replied worriedly, “If you want it to stop, look away.” The side of the manuscript rippled and seemed to stretch out. Dusk leaned in to investigate. Ancient Tarpanaic script emerged from the blackness and spilled out as if written on the air. The words and sentences spread out around the book and more was added on top of them and filled in the gaps. “Do you want to keep going?” questioned the concerned magician insistently. “I don’t know,” the reader hesitated. The verbose cloud now blocked the podium from view. It layered itself over her world as it expanded. As it came towards her she tried to look away but she couldn’t, and she was swallowed up in the blackness. She felt that she was standing in empty space. She looked at her hooves; she could see herself but nothing else. She pawed a hoof at nothing in particular and observed that it left a faint dusty mark on the indefinable surface. She turned around to see a white shape like a doorway standing behind her. Streaks of ash led out of the bottom of the featureless portal to the “ground” under her. This door was home. Across from it appeared three more white portals. She quickly saw danger in the fact that they were identical. “Lost in a book: DO NOT WANT,” she thought as she took preventative measures. Using her paranormal dandruff problem to navigate, she put an “x” by the home door. Dusk headed for the doorway on the left. As she neared it she saw it had the texture of parchment. An ink drawing of herself strode proudly into the frame. Celestia stood tall and white as the doorway, wearing her crown and ornaments of gold. “That’s a good sign, right?” she hoped aloud. She started forward as if to enter the door, but stopped when she saw that there was more to the scene. Her self-sketch beckoned and a multitude of ponies came and stood around her. Celestia separated them and gave them clubs, swords, and guns. She bid them fight and they obeyed, falling upon each other savagely. The gory drawing of the struggling, killing crowd swirled around her until she grew impatient, and gestured towards a city. Bombs fell and fire breathing tanks closed in around it. Celestia pounced on the citizens escaping from the flames and crushed them. Suddenly all the mutilated soldiers froze and stared at the bloodstained princess. The undead hordes rushed on her and held her down. A solar standard was stripped from its pole and the flagstaff was brought before the white one. The vengeful soldiers ran it through her chest like a lance, forcing it through her whole body. Dusk cried out as she felt the impact on her scar. The impaling stake passed out of her drawn self, emerging from between the hind legs. It still moved, now red and dripping, and pointed out the door. It changed as it neared her, from ink sketch to a look of real steel. “Oh fuck!” She tried to step away from the door but was instead sliding forward. Dusk felt the wound of her scar tearing back into her lungs in anticipation of the spike that was hurling towards her. A limb shot out from beside her and slammed the door shut. The pain left her as she was disconnected from the bloody vision within the dreamscape. She turned to see who it was that helped her, but they were already gone. Two doors remained in front of her. She considered retreating from this dimension that had taken a hostile turn. The way home was still open; she had only to walk back to it and she would be safe. However, she might be close to what she was looking for. In the last vision, she was powerful; and surely three doors represented three different options, so perhaps they ended better. Dusk moved to take in whatever the middle portal had to show. Another enchanted artwork unfolded as a huge chamber, luxuriously furnished, came into being. Chandeliers hung from the high vaulted ceiling and lit the picture with broad yellow brushstrokes. Ornate curtains covered the windows to hide the scene from the rest of the world. The middle of the room dropped into a deep silver basin. Around the bowl were gathered dozens of earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns that represented all walks of life. The bottom of the conceptual door turned into the silver rim of the bowl, and Dusk viewed the scene from this vantage point. She surveyed the row of young colts, mares, and older fillies that stretched as if from beside her, in front across the basin, and back. She wondered why they stared blankly ahead. Perfume, hints of liquor and potion, and even a more primal smell tickled her nose. A deep, pleased “Aaah” sounded in her ear. She could see furtive movements of something white on the close edge of the panorama. It moved further away, down the row of colorful ponies. It was another manifestation of Celestia, who worked her way out from behind Dusk into full view. It was the Princess, both in full glory and in the grip of passion. With wings outstretched in lustful pleasure, the beautiful alicorn nuzzled up beside a yellow mare, taking in the smoothness and warmth of flesh on flesh. Dusk stared as the two kissed deeply. Celestia straddled the mare provocatively, crossing over her to a unicorn colt. She rubbed her horn on his, closing her eyes and drinking in the feeling with a smile. The goddess continued her intoxicated foreplay, perusing her attractive harem. Dusk’s already large eyes widened, greedily taking in the erotic vision. She involuntarily stiffened her wings and salivated, “Looks pretty good, heheh. I choose door number two.” She leaned forward, partially entering the dimension of the picture. She held out her hoof in the air over the edge of the basin, calculating how to safely enter this sensual world. She froze as she finally noticed the demeanor of the ponies that had earned the goddess’s attention. An earth pony cringed away and cried at the caresses of the enamored Princess. As the ruler fawned over a purple filly, urine trickled down the leg of the terrified little one. Some of them were chained, tied or gagged. Dusk took a regretful step back, but suddenly the filly looked at her. As their eyes met, Dusk was flooded with guilty memories of the little pony. This unexpected connection with reality seemed to drag her forward by her eyes, causing her to topple over the edge of the basin. She rolled down the side and scrambled to her hooves, now completely immersed in the scene that had tempted her. She desperately whirled about to find the door back to the empty space, but it was out of reach at the top of the deep basin. She finally realized that she recognized every pony; they were her every previous conquest. Dusk cowered from a room full of condemning memories. Her self-specter still circled, lavishing unwanted affection on each pony until they began to cry. Celestia’s deranged ecstasy built until she had finished her circuit. The white alicorn stumbled clumsily on the edge and slid unconcernedly down to her grey alternative. Dusk dodged the apparition of herself. The Princess got up as if to fly back out of the silver bowl, but instead merely laughed at her weeping victims. She abruptly went silent and studied Dusk, who found herself once again under her own hungry and threatening gaze. “No, I can’t touch me again!” Dusk thought and ran away up the side of the basin, only to slide back down. Celestia again cackled deliriously. The fear, shame, and hurt of the surrounding ponies rose to a tremendous weight and leaked out of their eyes as tears. Tears spilled down the sides of the bowl in growing streams. Dusk lifted herself out of the puddle that was forming and readied her wings for an escape. She threw herself towards the door, but her wings failed to move. As she crashed short of her goal, she was aware that her wings were bound. The flow of tears grew, and swirled strongly about her legs. She tried to cry out, but found herself gagged. The sufferers wept, Celestia laughed, and Dusk whimpered as the water rose around the two alicorns. She struggled to swim, but the current pushed her down and to the middle of the drowning bowl. Salty tears filled her lungs as she slipped helplessly beneath the surface. She flailed frantically, then slowly, as she lost strength. A warm glow surrounded her and lifted her from the whirlpool of sorrows. The golden light peeled away the cloth from her mouth and freed her wings. The magic aura carried her back through the door and set her down gently, but she was still choking. When the door closed, the tears from the vision vanished from her lungs and her coat, leaving her dry and gasping for breath. Dusk stayed where she lay and tried to recover physically and emotionally. After her fear had worn off, she was left with that familiar guilt. She knew she had done all of that violence and abuse as Celestia, but this was worse. She had chosen that door. She had wanted it. It was no magically-summoned second personality that had tempted her and tormented her, like before. It was a part of herself, a scar on her mind. Deep down she had all the same desires. Same scar, same pony. “What would I do if I had unlimited power again?” she was forced to consider. Was it possible that she could be the same monster again if she was put back into that environment? There was the third door. “That’s just awful,” she groaned. She had seen two depictions of herself in power, two sets of grievances, and two death scenes. “Is the third time a charm, or is it stupid?” She had almost died twice—did dying in here return you to the real world, or kill your mind? Dusk decided it was probably the latter, since there was already a way to return. However, she was almost finished here, and if she left empty-hoofed the future was bleak. She figured she was out of self-destructing sins anyway. Whether or not she was in danger, she hadn’t died. She had fallen straight into the path of death and done nothing to get herself out, yet she was alive. There was some force in this otherworld that seemed to protect her. She remembered the hoof that closed the first door and the magic that came from nowhere to retrieve her from the second. Apparently, some phantom unicorn stalked her on the page with benevolent intent. Had Twilight found a way to help her? Whoever was with her, the fact that she was not alone gave her the courage to approach the third door. The unseen pen sketched another rich interior, but this was no fictitious room. The sanctuary of the Cathedral of the Sun in Canterlot came into view. Celestia stood in her natural place on the middle of the tall stage, just as she had the day before—whatever happened. Great marble columns and massive golden sun emblems rose up beside her. Sunlight brilliantly lit stained glass behind her, and choirs in front of her sang her praises. Dusk saw herself empowered and the sun in the sky, but not to be tricked again, she waited for the moving picture to complete its tale. Celestia reared up and basked in the adoration of the world that was under her spell. Her eyes began to glow white, and the worshipers also lit up with a shining aura. Then the light of the singers began to leave them and pool around the object of their worship. The goddess began a graceful flight upwards as she drew their energy and their life into herself. Her whole body began to gleam with the borrowed light even as the choirs fell to the floor, dark and lifeless. The ceiling melted away from the glorious being as she flew out into the blue sky. Thousands of bright trails floated up after her as she consumed everything that was offered from the nation below her. The goddess, exultant in her power and new brilliance, rose into the sun. As the two heavenly lights met, they shuddered. The sun collapsed on her and formed a black speck. Darkness rather than light flowed out of it as it grew. The spires of Canterlot broke apart and fell up into it, and soon the whole world began to follow suit. Dusk was also caught in its gravity, and would have tumbled through the portal were it not for powerful hooves that seized her from behind. For a moment she thought that she would be torn apart between the competing forces, but the black hole soon destroyed the door itself and ceased to exist. Predictably, her helper had also vanished. The Fourth DoorChapter 21 That was it. There were no more doors except for the way home, and she had nothing to show for her considerable troubles. “I know I’m bad!” she yelled to the condemning book. “I know everything is my fault! Stupid useless book.” The black emptiness gave no reply, but she was sure it frowned in judgment. “Time to skip out of this shit,” she muttered and galloped for the exit. Her face waited on the other side of the door. Just before she reached the portal, the other Dusk coughed. Dusk paused and stared confusedly at her image. She didn’t feel the urge to cough, but the Dusk on the other side reeled back, choking on her own lungs. Her chest heaved and she spat blood and ash onto the floor. She collapsed, wheezing, gasping, and expelling more vital fluids. An ember showed on her skin, followed by another, and soon the spots of flame spread across her. Her fur blackened and melted away into smoke. Dusk watched her dry body crack and crumble like a cinder, and at a gust of wind her remains were scattered as ash. Dusk panicked and jumped back from the door to reality, where she had just watched herself die. Was she still alive? Did she still exist outside this nether dimension? Perhaps this was only another door to a morbid vision that she had mistaken for the way home. But no—a gray ‘x’ by the portal insisted that what she had seen was part of the real world. She hung in the emptiness, paralyzed by fear and circumstances. There were no more choices. Death waited in all possible realities, and cornered her in the void. Another white portal appeared to her left. “I don’t want to see any more,” she sobbed. She stared at it with fear, as if it would lunge out and attack her. She was tired from her wild magical transmutations and harrowing experiences that had come so quickly. Every part of her that learned from experience told her to avoid the awful possibilities that opened up here, which had all tried to kill her or succeeded. She was trapped in a book that must be possessed by a hostile and deranged spirit, an evil energy. The warnings had been right. All resistance was useless. She could run out into the blackness, but the two portals seemed to be the only objects in this eerie plane. To flee from here would be to abdicate dimension, time, and reality. She picked herself back up one more time and stepped toward the new metaphysical gateway. “You got me,” she conceded mournfully. “I hope it’s the last one,” she said, taking the risk of looking and triggering the dream. It was a simpler sketch than the last two, with simple outlines of representative shapes. What looked like a ruined city was drawn out in front of her; a moment more and three mountains rose up behind it. Some sort of hole opened up in the side of the center mountain, and came closer until it stretched over the whole paper, leaving it blank again. “Boxes?” Dusk asked, confused at the two anticlimactic objects that were now showing. Indeed, there were two rectangles, with triangles around them. Just then a small gray figure entered the scene from the left. It left a faint smudge on the paper as it crossed. “That’s me,” she sighed. The stick-figure alicorn hopped over the spikes onto one of the platforms in the middle. “Now does it smash me or something?” Dusk asked despondently. Another figure approached from the other edge of the paper. It was strange; horse features were drawn out from a pictogram, a character of the Tarpanaic language. She had picked up some of the language a long time ago, and this, she remembered, meant “life”. The stranger, who seemed to bear a good portent, mounted the platform opposite sketch-Dusk. The emblem of the blazing sun moved up from wherever it had been hidden and hung between the two ponies. The character for life jumped out of its bearer into the sun and came down on the tiny alicorn, who grew in stature. The sun ascended high into the sky as Dusk changed from gray to outlined white. Dusk smiled at this happy sign, before looking back to the right. That platform was now empty, as if there was nothing left. “What happened to the other one?” she wondered aloud, as she realized her concern for the stranger. In any case, this door seemed right and offered the only solution she had seen, so she had to take it. She tried to enter, but it was mere paper, and tore slightly as she pressed onto it. There was an odd glint of something moving on the other side. She heard the beat of wings that seemed to launch from nearby and power quickly into the distance. The unsupported picture folded on itself and fell down, slipping through the plane she stood on and floating down out of sight. She reached after it, but it was gone. Now there was nothing left but the home door. She could scarce bring herself to look there again, but when she did she saw that it showed her face again, as if it had reset. She looked into the oversized image of her deep black eyes and blinked. She looked up from the black page and she was in the Vault again. Spike yelled, “Hey, she’s back!” “Thank Celestia,” Dr. Sparkle burst out, before reconsidering the old turn of phrase. “I was about to try to separate you from that thing. Are you alright?” Dusk’s head spun and her legs shook. “I don’t feel so good,” she murmured. The room stopped spinning, but a burning pain coursed from her waist through her chest. Her lungs heaved and sputtered. She tasted soot and spat out red. Twilight and Spike rushed to catch her as she stumbled and collapsed. Dusk cried out as a second sting shot down her hind leg. “I’m going to die, I’m going to burn!” she exclaimed as she was overcome with agony and terror. Doctor Sparkle attempted to render first aid, but it was little use. Fortunately, the bite of the sun left just as it had come. Dusk blinked in shock to be alive; she was certain her fate had found her, just as she had seen from the book. “Did you find out anything?” Twilight questioned. “It showed me what to do, I think,” Dusk reported. “It almost killed me, though.” “There’s a reason it’s here,” Twilight said with confirmed suspicion. “If we have what we need, there’s no sense taking something like that with us.” Her concern was renewed as the ailing alicorn went limp and closed her eyes. “Dusk, are you alright?” Dusk nodded. She felt her scar and remembered what she had witnessed of herself. “Call me Celestia,” she responded weakly. ConvergenceChapter 22: Convergence General Armor strode angrily out of the research wing of the academy, pursued by the Director of Magic Development and a team of confused analysts. Ignoring them, he rendezvoused with the Chief of Imperial Intelligence in the courtyard and demanded, “Find Starcatch! Doctor Sparkle has taken the subject and the dragon and gone rogue, she will need to be apprehended.” He fumed, but stopped to translate his blinding rage into orders. “Operation Starcatch is over, kill the subject. The Solar Scouts are at your disposal.” The chief questioned, “What if the Doctor resists? Isn’t she your…” “I said bring her back!” he snapped. “Alive or dead, bring her back.” The chief nodded and relayed to his own assets, “Locate Starcatch and Sparkle. Dispatch agents to all known associates and put a bolo on that dragon. Solar Scouts are standing by to intercept on your call.” The pursing research head objected, “Kill the subject?! We’re talking about Celestia!” “Celestia is dead!” General declared. “It is useless to me.” “I’m contacting the Interim Council, you have no authority to make a decision like this,” the director threatened. “Will you stop and listen to me!?” he called as the General continued to the radio officer. “Lieutenant Garrison, have you secured the palace grounds? Is the Council aware of its new place?” the General calmly asked. A voice crackled through the box, “Yes sir, all members have been detained and we await your orders for reorganization.” The gold-plated warrior turned to the shocked director and announced, “I am now in control of Equestria.” “The Admiral might think differently,” the director shot back. General Armor glared at him and countered confidently, “Not with my marines on his flagship.” The director turned pale and stammered, “But, the sun—we need the sun!” “We survived before she came,” General dismissed. “The secrets of the ancient unicorn lords died with them,” the head magician reminded. “This is madness!” “Recover them or devise your own solution,” the young ruler ordered. “You might find new inspiration now that your survival depends on it. In any case, the few and the strong will survive, and my Empire will endure under any sky. I have an invasion to finish.” He looked up at an approaching transport and prepared to teleport aboard. In a low tone, he said the wind, “Don’t resist, sis.” Rarity sauntered down the busy sidewalk of Fortune Avenue. Within a day of the trouble, more lights had been discreetly installed. The streets of the Old District glowed with cheerful colors. Here the threat of eternal night was wished away, and the show went on. Her mane and tail were cast in stark relief. The ostentatious curves glistened purple above and carried a heavy shadow underneath. Her dress continued the purple line down her back but was mostly black with red ruffles. She stared up like a moth at the fluorescents and neons as she passed underneath. They annoyed her, but obviously she had to keep her chin up. It got brighter near the Fortune Sun casino. “Mustn’t go there,” she told herself. She heard a whimper that seemed oddly out of keeping with the well-to-do traffic around her. “Why, oh why, are my ears so sensitive to this kind of thing?” she thought, but stopped anyway. Head still high, she glanced down to see a naked and disheveled earth pony. Worse still, it was a mother sheltering her young filly. How did a beggar make it all the way in here? She must have been desperate. “Please,” she called out weakly. She had started off louder and more insistent, but hope was wearing thin. Rarity considered the bits in her purse. There weren’t as many as she would like. Still, she wasn’t heartless, at least not yet. Some of the bits began to rise to the top of the purse. Filigreed shoes clicked on the cobblestone next to her. Galinda Riser struck a haughty pose to flaunt her own showy dress and jested, “Oh, Rarity, I’m sorry to interrupt you and your gutter friends.” Bits dropped back to the bottom of the purse. The downtrodden mother sighed as she became mute and invisible. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rarity fibbed, “I was just on my way back to my boutique.” “By stopping, yes,” Galinda said sarcastically, and flipped her pearls at her target. “You should always make friends in the arena you are headed to next. I don’t know if the rumors are true, but just from what you’re wearing I can tell you’re headed to the back alley.” Rarity absorbed the blow with a steady face and returned, “How do you say such things, sporting something so tawdry?” “Tawdry, hm?” Galinda replied, unconcerned. “I would take an insult like that seriously, if it was from a serious competitor.” There was little left to say, but Galinda took a stance as if she had always meant to be there and would certainly not be the one to walk away. Rarity paused, looking for a way to deny her the satisfaction, but the other unicorn held all the cards. Rarity snorted and marched on, trying not to hear Galinda say, “I thought so.” Her hooves trod the cobblestone for a few blocks and brought her to the Carousel Boutique. She had moved her shop to Canterlot after the troubles, not out of allegiance but simply to pursue a greater status in the fashion world. After her friends split up, there was nothing to keep her in postwar Ponyville. The well-styled exterior had set the shop apart from the quaint country town, but here it was another pea in the pod. Apparently, there were too many peas already. Rarity entered, and locked the door behind her. She did not turn on the lights; she knew every inch of the shop that was her dream. She moved fluidly through to the designer’s stool, the seat of her power. She climbed upon the padded stool with a graceful spiraling motion. No one was watching, but it would have interrupted her to carry herself any other way. She took a lighter out of her purse before she put the bag away. She willed a long cigarette out of the open pack on the counter of her vanity and lit up. She knew it was bad for her, but it was fashionable and helped her be fashionably numb. She turned on the light above her without looking up. It shone a narrow beam down in front of her so that she could see the smoke and watch how it moved. In the still air, it billowed slowly up, pushing past itself until it spread away out of sight. She wished she was so free. Within her four walls, she could pretend that she was self-contained, and that she could rise up and take her hopes with her own persistence and fabulosity. A strong draft from a broken window blew across her. It killed her that she could no longer afford to fix it properly. Dainty trails of smoke are at the mercy of any wind that finds them, to be smeared into featureless smudges and carried away before they can dance. Where did it come from, the wind that pushed her away? It couldn’t be Galinda. That one’s work was clearly inferior, and her social skills were not so attuned as to make up for it. Another cigarette allowed her thinking to go farther as Rarity reminisced on her creations. She had done good work, and it should have paid off. Did she do bad business? No, business had simply gone bad. The unicorn had assumed that her skills would take her far, especially since she had previously garnered royal attention. All her best clients had so suddenly left her. It was as if some conspiracy would not allow her to be fulfilled. There was a knock on the door. Could it be a client at this hour? What hour was it, anyway? The heavens were so irresponsible these days. She got down from her stool but didn’t let go of her thoughts just yet. She pulled back the corner of the drapes to peer at the newcomers. She was not greeted with a particularly promising sight: two, no, three hooded figures, but two were short. They didn’t look like clients. Could more beggars have actually braved high-class territory to track her down? Uncertain, she remained silent. The tall one knocked again, forcefully, and called out, “Rarity!” At the moment, she couldn’t think of three beings who knew her name that she wanted to encounter. She took a breath and replied anyway, “What is it? Who’s there?” “We’re friends,” said a familiar voice. It brought back a mixture of warm and painful feelings, but didn’t everything important? She opened the door a crack and took a better look. She locked onto the tall visitor. “If it isn’t Twilight Sparkle—or should I call you Doctor Sparkle now?” she greeted unenthusiastically. She let her whole body into the opening but still did not offer entrance. “I hope you haven’t come to bring me into Imperial business, you know how I’ve kept out of such matters.” Another glance and she could not avoid commenting, “On second thought, if the Division needs help with those dreadfully unflattering hoods you’re wearing, I would be compelled to oblige.” “Not this time, Rarity,” Twilight answered. “I’m in a lot of trouble. Can Spike come in?” The smallest figure tipped back its hood with a clawed hand to show the glint of a sharp smile. “Oh, hello, Spike,” Rarity reacted with a softer tone. The stylish unicorn huffed slightly at no one in particular. “I forget my manners. Of course you can all come in.” The three filed into the shadowy storefront, eager to disappear from the street’s eyes. Twilight had not come by often enough to know the layout and stopped when she bumped into a mannequin. Spike once again impacted her hindquarters, but the third visitor could see well enough to dodge the pile-up. “Are you gothic now?” Twilight complained, and covered a cough. “I could never limit myself to black. I thought you would like it this way,” Rarity jabbed. She waved her horn at the overhead lights to reveal the gilded pink interior. “Please tell me you didn’t bring a fourth guest.” She motioned a hoof in the air to indicate an indistinct presence. “Spike, dear, has she kept your rule?” “Yeah, but I still have to remind her,” the little dragon replied. “I still have to remind YOU that what we do is classif—“ Twilight coughed again and saw the haze that hung in the room. She fanned the air in front of her with a hoof and asked, “How do you live with this?” “It’s culture. Besides, how would I live without it?” Rarity casually admitted. The fire-breathing runt piped, “I don’t have any problem with it.” The other gray pony carefully removed her hood and added, “It doesn’t bother me.” She breathed the smoky air as if it was more natural. Although she worried herself with this kind of thing, she wouldn’t keep herself from enjoying the perks. “Who are you?” Rarity asked neutrally, but then gave a low cry and jumped back. She demanded of Twilight, “Is it possessed?!” “Not very. It’s the eyes,” the stranger explained, “and it’s a mare.” “Excuse me,” Rarity offered reflexively. “She’s…” Twilight attempted to moderate their communication, but froze up. “Dusk,” the grey one curtly replied. “Yes, Dusk, she isn’t… she’s Dusk,” Twilight said, to herself as much as Rarity. Rarity glanced skeptically from the stuttering researcher to the unnatural pegasus. “Did you say not very possessed? Doctor Sparkle, what have you done to this poor girl?” “A lot, but I undid most of it,” Twilight returned. “I was supposed to take her all the way; that’s actually why we’re here.” She took a couple steps towards her old friend and tried to meet her eyes, but looked down. “Listen, Rarity. I was wrong about some things, a lot of things. I’m sorry for how we left off. You were right not to use your magic for the Empire.” “You think that’s where we left off?!” Rarity objected. “We were done when you split the six of us up like we were just YOUR friends. They were still my friends, but you couldn’t handle that, could you?” Her pitch rose with her temper. “You just kept pushing and pushing until I was all alone again! Even in Ponyville, every pony would look at me so alien, and gape at me, because I was TWILIGHT SPARKLE’S friend.” She finished in a tremble, propelling another cigarette to her mouth and puffing hungrily. Twilight received this all while staring at the floor with her ears down. “I don’t… I’m…” the magician fumbled, before choking up. “Shit.” Doctor Sparkle doesn’t cry, and she held back tears successfully. The parlor was hushed for a time that seemed rather long. Rarity held the cigarette out of her mouth and started to consider that the other unicorn might be genuine, though terrible at expressing herself. “Since I’m already alone, what could it hurt to be Twilight Sparkle’s friend again?” Rarity wondered. It could hurt very much, she realized. “I must be demented,” she thought. She broke the silence, conceding mercifully, “Well, it appears you’re doing something good now.” She breathed deeply and asked, “What trouble are you in?” Twilight calmly informed, “I was supposed to…” she glanced to the salt-and-pepper puzzle standing close by and recalled the words, “—kill Dusk. It was very important. I escaped with her, and now if we’re caught by any Imperials they will kill us. You’re the only pony I can trust; all of my associates would turn me in.” “What do you expect me to do?” Rarity asked honestly. “Are you here to hide out?” “Not most of us, we need to travel, and quickly,” Twilight corrected. “Spike needs somewhere to stay though. Dragons are the only secure line of communication, so they’re quite valuable to the Empire. Spike can’t leave Canterlot due to some anti-theft measures.” Usually, the valuable dragon would be offended at being discussed as property. This time his growing grin showed his approval for the course of conversation. Dusk’s eyes shot from unicorn to unicorn. It was quite clear how she had gotten from Twilight to Rarity, but something else unnerved her. Not long ago she had seen Applejack and Pinkie Pie in the Lunar camp, and was captured by Rainbow Dash. Now here were two more of them. There was something about these six ponies, before she knew them and even now. Then it struck Celestia: “It’s like something I would do.” But she hadn’t done it. “A word with you?” she requested of Twilight. They stepped to the corner and “Dusk” whispered, “We need Rarity. Is there anything you can say to her to get her to come with us?” “I didn’t know you had a plan,” the Doctor muttered, analyzing the situation quickly. “I think I just borrowed one,” Celestia replied cryptically. “I don’t know if she will,” Twilight cautioned, “I think she hates me.” Celestia didn’t like to speak as herself, but it was only too relevant. “No, student, she hates that she loves you.” Twilight frowned at the experienced manipulator, who returned an expression that was sad but still insistent. Rarity caught Spike’s gaze and gave him a smile, but looked after the other two guests when his gaping demeanor was too intense. She enjoyed his company. He was cute and at times adorable, and dragons are fabulous by definition. However, they had become slightly complicated by the end of the Ponyville days, and she could not define their relationship. She was getting the impression that it might mean something else to him, and being trapped in a secret lab didn’t make him more stable. She was unsure if she was ready to hide him with her for an undefined time. Twilight approached Rarity sensitively, and laid out their situation, “We need someone else to get a ride out of here. I’m sorry, but you might not be safe here, and if you don’t come with us…” She continued with a softer tone and pleading eyes, “I may never see you again.” She thought bitterly to herself, “It’s stupid that I have an ulterior motive, I really care about that.” “Alright,” Rarity replied simply. Twilight stood stunned; it shouldn’t have been that easy. Rarity gave one last blunt appraisal to the stalled dream around her, and concluded, “Allow me to slip into something more appropriate.” “Rarity, we don’t have much time,” Twilight objected. Dusk overruled, “If it’s important to you, go ahead. Thank you for your help.” “PLEASE do,” Spike added with hungry eyes. As Rarity turned to change, Twilight stepped in between her and their smaller companions. She glared at them accusingly, and scolded, “Control yourselves, both of you.” Spike growled his irritation, but the secret alicorn affected innocence. Pela HaxiChapter 23: Pela Haxi Three warrior pegasi waited atop a cloud over Canterlot. As the cloud drifted along lazily, the dusk horizon lit it from below so that they were concealed in the dark puffs. Captain Dash slid a rough spike out of her flight jacket and rolled it over in her hooves. She flipped the meteorite weapon in the air, caught it, and slashed through a puff of cloud. It was almost impossible to deflect with magic since it was not connected to this world. Such tools had rarely been in her arsenal, although she was trained to use them. The private recited prayers to Celestia. He requested, not protection, but the resolve and power to complete his duty at any cost. Each line was punctuated by the phrase, “Morsa mors, Pela haxi.” That was the motto of the Solar Scouts: “From death to death, for Her we fight.” What he lacked in experience he made up for in fervor. For his part, Major Snaps just didn’t give a shit. Not much of a shit, anyway, but he was more than crazy enough to be a Solar Scout. While the others were prepared to die, Captain Dash didn’t even consider it. She had dodged death enough to convince herself that she would somehow make it through anything. “Gonna be an interesting target,” Zeze commented. The captain nodded but looked away. It was a dangerous target, but that wasn’t what was on her mind. She privately recounted the shocking facts from the emergency briefing: “Starcatch is an impostor planted by the Lunars. Doctor Sparkle was part of a plot to place their puppet on the throne. When they were discovered, Sparkle escaped with the spy.” If she expected her personal feelings to make her incompetent to complete the mission, she should have alerted her superiors so that she could be replaced. She hadn’t. Rainbow Dash would stand with the light against all darkness. She couldn’t be friends with a nightsider. When she parted ways with Applejack and Pinkie Pie, she was clear that the condition for their survival was to never meet her on the battlefield. In martial arts practice, the gun range, and bitter nightmares she had prepared herself to kill them. Rarity and Fluttershy were good ponies, but they couldn’t really be her friends since they lacked the conviction to hold up the cause. She used to doubt herself, but it was Twilight’s devotion and the company of her new blood-brothers pointed her to her true absolute. Celestia’s wisdom had taught her to live in the eternal light of this narrow path. What could Twilight be thinking? Dash didn’t know what she would do, but she knew she had to be the one to do it. She had a better chance than anyone of bringing her wayward friend back alive. She moved to the edge of the cloud and looked down on the Jewel of the Empire. The white towers of the palace still watched over the city. Wherever Celestia had gone, she was surely with them in spirit, and Dash could still look toward the throne for her direction. Or could she? She had heard chatter from army units moving to forcibly replace the Royal Guard. Personally, she had always thought that it would be better to have the General calling the shots than leave it to a bunch of politicians, but the move and the timing weren’t right. And that was some kind of cold to issue orders like that about his own sister. Did she dare doubt his motives? “Hell, is there anything I wouldn’t dare do?” she wondered. The radio on Dash’s vest squawked, “Suspect crossed the south checkpoint five minutes ago. White sky carriage, bridle number CL 379. Targets presumed to be on board. Highly dangerous; eliminate with extreme prejudice. Scouts, you’re up.” The squad lined up behind her and opened their wings. “Let’s stick a witch,” Zeze smirked. “By the book,” the captain insisted. “We fly Talon and execute a Catch-22 on my mark.” The commandoes dove from their perch into the southern sky and closed with terrific speed on the estimated trajectory of their quarry. They were not far off; unaware it had been compromised, the carriage had maintained a standard course away from the city. In the vehicle, Rarity sat with serenity. Her grey flowing blouse rolled like smoke in the wind. Ponies thought her art was shallow; it was for her to know that the grey was for acceptance and blue was for freedom. After they left Canterlot, Twilight and Dusk had emerged from the cases and rare fabrics the designer had brought along. The two pegasi who pulled the shuttle were not happy about the extra passengers, but additional bits changed their minds. Dusk lay on the floor, still groggy from ill health and ill transformations. Doctor Sparkle gave a parting glance to her home city, and spotted three figures racing after them. “Damn, they found us,” she alerted. “Take us to the treetops and head west,” she yelled to the drivers. “What? You said we were going to Phillydelphia,” the senior driver protested. The magician motioned behind them and shot back, “Now we’re going to stay alive! If they catch us you’re dead too.” “Faster, we have gems,” Rarity added. The alarmed colts did as they were told. “I’m sorry, Rarity, but we have to ditch this stuff to lose weight,” Twilight asserted apologetically. To her surprise, her friend was throwing a case overboard before she finished speaking. Dusk rose up, swiped Rarity’s packs of cigarettes, and shoved them out the back with a pile of fabrics. “A small kindness,” she muttered to herself. She flopped back to the floor in real exhaustion. The three aviators turned after them, keeping their formation. The major and private flew ahead and to each side, maintaining spread from Dash in the center. Speed was an entrance requirement for the commandoes, and they easily closed the gap. The captain drew her meteorite weapon and her subordinates drew a bead with their sub-machine guns. As they attacked in this arrangement, a magician would face a terrible dilemma. The warriors were far enough apart that it would be difficult to hit them all with a single spell, and that move would leave the defender vulnerable to bullets. Raising a deflection spell would protect the target from the guns, but it would be useless against the incoming space spike. Teleportation could allow escape, or the magician might be shot before it could be finished. Twilight Sparkle failed to decide on a course of action. Rainbow Dash failed to initiate the maneuver. They stared at each other for a critical split second. “Stand down!” Captain Dash barked. The private either obeyed or merely hesitated in confusion. Zeze moved to take the shot anyway. Dash anticipated his insubordination and in an instant was beside him, deflecting the muzzle of his gun. “Stand down, bastard,” Dash growled, emphasizing with her pistol. “You finally broke orders!” Zeze condemned, “I thought I smelled a traitor in you.” Dash retorted, “A traitor? That’s Celestia’s best student. You’re following traitor’s orders!” The major spun around and kicked his superior away. The pistol tumbled to the ground and Captain Dash pulled up to regain the cloud layer. Zeze emptied his clip into the milky vapors above, guessing her location. “What are you doing!?” the private demanded, his loyalties torn between the combatants. Dash did not reappear. Had the rainbow flier crashed on the clouds? Sometimes dead pegasi fall through and sometimes they don’t. A bolt of lightning answered their doubts as the shaft of plasma cut them off from the carriage. More flashes rumbled out of the cloud bank and forced them to fall behind a considerable distance. The course of the chase broke into open skies. Out of cumulus ammo, Dash powered ahead, shooting past the carriage. The two gunners moved to press the attack. The yellow and red of the pegasus’ mane and tail stood out starkly as she ascended high into empty space. A smile crossed her face as she spun the world around her, rolling over into a sharp dive straight toward the carriage. The other scouts were closing fast behind the vehicle. The two unicorn passengers looked nervously in front and behind at the approaching threats. Rainbow Dash was picking up alarming speed and began to glow faintly as she streaked into what was going to be the biggest sonic rainboom ever. Although the shockwave of such an explosion was a gentle gust to a faraway observer, it was very violent at the epicenter. The scouts stopped trying to gain a bead with their weapons, rushing to calculate their estranged leader’s intentions. “She wouldn’t,” the private gaped in astonishment. Zeze cautioned, “It IS Captain Dash…” The two exchanged wide eyed looks. Rarity, as closely as was ladylike, yelled “Oh, please do something!” Twilight struggled to understand the situation and fixed her gaze on her old friend out in the sky. “No, keep going straight!” Twilight shouted to the drivers. “I don’t know if I can trust any pony in this messed up world anymore,” she declared, “but if there’s one pony I trust it’s our Dashie.” Rarity simply stared in shock. Twilight gulped. “Right?” The sonic comet approached critical mass as she neared her target. The Solar Scouts would not usually back down from a threat, but coming from one of their own? They broke off the chase and sprinted through the air to escape the coming tie-dye apocalypse. Dash aborted at the last minute, shooting over her friends and turning into a skid. She bled off airspeed until she was hovering comfortably. “It’s over, brothers!” she called defiantly. “MORSA MORS!” she boomed, and hurled the meteorite stake. The private followed it as it arced towards the earth. Its weight drove it into the ground vertically. The private perched on the blunt end of the little obelisk and bowed in a statuesque posture. He reverently finished, “Pela haxi.” Zeze swooped down and knocked him off of the prized tool, saying, “Don’t be an idiot.” He motioned for his subordinate to follow, explaining, “I didn’t hear a peep from that magician, she must be worn out from however she went rogue. The two of us can take Dash and complete the mission.” The private regained his hooves. He marched to the spike, removed it from the ground, and sheathed it in his own vest. He met the major’s hot stare resolutely before he turned and walked away. “You’ve got to be shitting me!” Zeze hollered after him. The frustrated major, faced with the prospect of two or perhaps three respectable foes, took wing back to base to report the deserters. Rainbow Dash watched them leave before she let herself look to her old friends. “For her we fight,” she repeated, and marveled that “her” did not mean the same thing anymore. The brazen aviator turned her back on the Solar Empire and went after her friends. Alighting on the front rail of the carriage, she looked Twilight in the eyes and demanded, “How the HELL did you get in so much trouble?” Rarity had recovered her composure, and joined in, “Do tell.” “By Celestia… I think,” she replied flatly, pointing to the feeble gray passenger who lay on the carriage floor. The others stared in continued incomprehension. This might be a long ride. Captured?Chapter 24 The party traveled on an unfamiliar path through the Everfree forest. Despite its dangers, it was a likely haven for retreating Lunar forces. More confident of surviving the treacherous woods than the air defenses of either side, Twilight had decided to make the journey by ground to be less conspicuous. The path was narrow and only sometimes offered a bright slit in the shadowy canopy of the tall trees. Dusk was compelled to sleep heavily by the exhaustion of internalizing too much drastic magic. Rarity peered through the dim undergrowth and shuddered. “Ugh. Why did we have to come to such a dirty, uncivilized place?” Rainbow Dash quickly interjected, “What I don’t get is why we have to go the Lunars. I was just fighting them yesterday, and this seems an awful lot like surrendering.” Rarity saw that the conversation was going to get political, so she shifted to the side and looked away, saving her complaints for later. The Solar scout hovered up out of the carriage and pressed her nose down into Twilight’s face. “You aren’t actually a traitor, RIGHT?” she demanded, almost accusing. “I would never betray Celestia!” the unicorn vowed. Then she reconsidered with a cynical squint, and corrected, “I would never betray her first.” “Wait a minute, what’s that supposed to mean?!” Dash pushed further. Twilight shook her head. “You don’t want to hear that. We’re doing our duty to the Solar Empire right now, so I guess that’s all you care about.” The soldier backed off, and Rainbow Dash returned to her seat as the friend. “Hey, that’s not true,” she rejoined in a softer tone. “What are you trying to say?” “She lied to me,” Twilight revealed. “She was always a lie, but she was the biggest lie to me. She practically raised me on lies. She pretended to care, but all she wanted was power, death, and gluttony.” The suspicion that Rainbow Dash had politely put away was rebuilt with every word she heard. “Stop it!” she barked. “You’re talking like Lunar propaganda!” She motioned to Dusk and said, “Was it something she told you? In her condition, she’s confused and could say anything, that’s what the General said.” “My brother is the one who would do anything. He can’t tell that what he’s doing is wrong anymore. He had you hunt me down,” Twilight reminded, stifling the pain in her voice. “She did tell me a lot, but I didn’t believe her. I had to show myself, and hurt her pretty badly too.” “What exactly did you see?” Dash asked skeptically. Rarity turned her attention to Twilight; it was a good enough question to rouse her curiosity. “She tried to warn me,” Twilight explained, looking down at the ever-ambiguous subject, “but I thought the same thing you did. Then, when I did the spell to restore her—“ The magician realized that the captain did not know what the process entailed, so she clarified, “It was a bi-conscious resolution…” Dash stared blankly. “Huh?” “Our Celestia and the dusk Celestia were both awake as I was operating on her,” Twilight finally said plainly. “I thought it would be smooth, that they might be compatible, but the Princess was actively killing Dusk. It was like she was eating her, and enjoying it. She was so cruel and disgusting… It was horrible.” “Wow,” Dash murmured disbelievingly as the three ponies stared at the tormented alicorn. Celestia shuddered at the memory. “I should have known. Death and devouring is what the dark arts are about. She was always more interested in my research than I was, she’s the one who made me start.” Twilight shook her head. “But that was the only way I knew of to fix her,” Twilight continued. “Then she consulted an artifact that seemed to have answers, and it showed her another way. She said there’s a place she needs to go, and she needs the sun, but for that, we need Luna.” “NIGHTMARE MOON?!” Rainbow Dash blurted in shock. “We’re taking the sun—helpless, confused Celestia—to Nightmare Moon? The night Princess who wants eternal darkness? The twisted vampiric monster that steals fillies off the streets at night, who has been terrorizing our country ever since she returned? The one who turned to evil because of her IMMENSE HATRED FOR CELESTIA?” Twilight and Rarity became visibly nervous and Twilight nodded regretfully as the loyal captain ranted. At the mention of that name, the gloom of the forest suddenly seemed thicker and more threatening. Even so, they welcomed the canopy’s thin protection from the moon, which stared down like a sinister eye. The drivers heard what was said with a raised voice, and stopped, unwilling to move towards the sky demon. “SHUT UP!” a thin voice yelled. Little Celestia heaved herself to her hooves and glared up intensely at all of them. She put her hoof to Rainbow Dash’s flight vest and growled, “Nightmare Moon is gone! Luna is best pony! When night falls, Luna protects ponies from ME. She’s been keeping us all alive for days, while you were trying to kill her. So shut up about my sister.” Her outburst finished, the tiny alicorn huffed and slumped back down. The three friends glanced at each other, processing the strangeness of hearing something like that from Celestia. Twilight took issue with their stalled transportation, and told the drivers, “Keep going, we won’t ask you to take us all the way to Nightm—err, Luna.” They reluctantly acceded, and resumed a steady clip so they could get this out-of-control job over with. “Dash, Rarity,” Twilight addressed, “When we meet NLR troops, you can’t say anything about this. She’s not Celestia—they’d kill Celestia—she’s a young pegasus called Dusk, one of my test subjects. I’ll probably take most of the heat.” She turned specifically to her pegasus friend and instructed, “Captain Dash, you’re still on duty. You have to protect Celestia. Don’t be too obvious, though, we don’t want to blow her cover.” Captain Dash saluted, proud to be charged with such a task. Twilight turned to Rarity with pleading eyes. “Will you help me, again? I know you’re not a Solar, but that’s why I need you.” Rarity nodded, and replied, “Of course I’ll help, if I can.” She reached for a cigarette to take the edge off of things if it turned out to be a difficult request. She hid her consternation as she failed to find a smoke. Twilight explained, “I need you to take care of Dusk when we can’t. You’re a civilian, so if she’s with you she might be treated better. Watch her and make sure her mane is hiding her horn at all times. File the thing down, if you have to.” “Oh, if it’s cosmetic you can count on me,” Rarity said, relieved. A pink and yellow shape flew out of the foliage and stood in the path ahead of them. The drivers braked hard to avoid running over the cowering pegasus. It was Fluttershy, and she held out her hooves and yelled an inaudible “Stop!” She immediately floated into the air and began circling her bewildered friends and franticly gesticulating to the forest around them. Over and over again, she yelped a plaintive message to the brush and rocks on either side of the path. “What’s going on?!” Rainbow Dash blurted toward their new orbiter. After several trips the yellow pony touched down behind the carriage and covered her face with her flowing mane. A low whisper came from under her matted pink shield, pleading, “Please don’t run away. Don’t do anything.” She hesitated. “I mean, if it’s okay—well, no, this time I think you shouldn’t anyway.” She was almost sobbing as she concluded, “I really don’t want you to get hurt, please, please don’t do anything!” The three friends stared confused. To their astonishment, Applejack’s face appeared out of a ditch—or was it a trench? “Whoa there, hold your horses,” she said urgently through her familiar drawl, “You can put that thing away, partner.” Big Macintosh loomed from behind a boulder, streaked with camouflage and shouldering a rocket launcher. “Eeyup?” he questioned as he lowered the gaping maw of his weapon down out of sight. Numerous Lunar troops peered out of their hiding places, unsure at the behavior of their comrades. Some gritted their teeth and eyed Rainbow Dash angrily. Despite her act of desertion, she still proudly bore her flight vest with gleaming Solar insignia, and no amount of firepower would convince her to remove it. “Hold your fire,” the NLR major ordered. “If any pony’s gonna kill ‘em, it’s gonna be me,” she growled from under her shrapnel-torn hat. Her hoof was seized on the trigger of her leveled rifle. She could carry out her threat. “Please, don’t give me a reason to shoot, or I swear I will.” “Don’t worry, we were actually looking for Republicans,” Twilight assured. Applejack lowered her gun and approached the carriage. “Bless all Luna’s stars, are you really deserting?” she asked with hope before her instincts made her wary again. “If this is a trick, it’s the cruelest thing there is. I can spot a trick, you know.” Captain Dash put her hoof to her chest and proclaimed boldly, “I’m not deserting! We’re here to negotiate, or something.” “I don’t technically represent the Empire right now,” Twilight clarified. “Actually, Solar troops are supposed to kill us, if that makes you happy.” Flashing a cautious smile, Applejack replied, “Ha! I always said I’d eat my hat the day you two wised up. I reckon you’ll pardon me for not making good on that.” “But we AREN’T deserting!” Rainbow Dash protested. “It’s not deserting ‘cause we…she is…um—“ she stopped herself. Twilight stepped in to bail out her zealous friend and explained, “What Dash is trying to say is that we’re still trying to serve Celestia. The real problem is that the sun won’t come up; that’s bad for everypony. Without the Empress’s direction, command has taken a reckless course, when we shouldn’t even be fighting at all. We came to discuss magic solutions for raising the sun with Princess Luna.” “For a second there, I actually thought you saw through the sun pony’s lies.” “More than it sounds like,” Twilight hinted. Major Applejack motioned to the trench and ordered, “Big Mac, will you get down here and tie down the wings on this here pegasus? And somepony get a cap on this witch horn.” “What are you doing?” Twilight objected, “We’re not captives, we’re here on parlay.” Major Applejack swung her rifle up and called loudly, “SURRENDER!” “Hey, what gives?!” Captain Dash exclaimed and only just kept herself from some foolish reflex. At a glance from Twilight she settled down. “Now you’re captured, see?” Applejack concluded, before she added, “This way my boys will have an easier time not shooting y’all.” The two Solars were motioned off of the carriage to be dealt with. Rainbow Dash grunted as the big red colt bound her tightly. A Rough Rider passed an odd ring device to Applejack, who proceeded to affix it on Twilight’s horn. Without special measures, keeping a magician captive is almost impossible. The “cap” was not foolproof, but it would make it much harder for her to use telekinetic powers. Applejack came around the side of the carriage to Rarity and hailed, “Howdy, Miss. Fancy seein’ you here. You put in with these no-good Solars?” “Yes, for old times’ sake, and to help them walk out on the Empire,” Rarity answered politely. “Well, in that case, it’s a real pleasure to see you again,” Applejack said pleasantly. Removing her hat, she offered, “It’s my honor to welcome you to our no-name camp. It may not suit a lady well, but we’ll treat you as good as we can.” “Eeyup,” Big Mac agreed. “I hope you know I didn’t mean what I said when we split ways,” Applejack continued apologetically. “I hope you won’t mind…” she held out a hoof. Rarity hopped down and invited jokingly, “Just keep it civil and mind the dress.” They hugged. Then Applejack spotted Fluttershy, still crouched behind the carriage hoping not to be seen. “Hey there, Fluttershy. Where’d you come from?” The yellow pegasus peeked up at her and whispered, “I followed you and I wanted to say hi, but I couldn’t, and then you were going to hurt them, and it was going to be awful, please don’t be mad at me.” “I ain’t mad, that was real good of you. Maybe even a little brave,” Applejack congratulated. “Really?” said Fluttershy, raising her head and giving a tentative smile. “Fluttershy, dear,” Rarity greeted, “We looked everywhere for you! I’m glad you’re alright—but really, you’re a mess.” Fluttershy’s mane was tangled and spots of leaves and mud stained her matted coat. She looked at herself and back at everyone, who was now looking at her. “Eeep!” she cried and dashed into a clump of bushes. “I’m in the middle of dealing with a situation,” Applejack commented to Rarity. “I would really appreciate for you to go after Fluttershy before we lose her again, as far as you can manage without getting too mussied up, I mean.” Without another word the unicorn trotted towards the foliage to calm the sensitive pony. “What in tarnation!?” Applejack blurted as she turned around and suddenly noticed Dusk. “You with the creepy eyes—you’re the one who was pesterin’ Luna. Who is this?” she demanded of Twilight. “Dusk is my test subject, or was,” Twilight started the deception. “Now she’s mixed up in this because she knows too much.” “I bet,” Applejack quipped. She pointed at Dusk and accused, “I was right you were no good, this proves it.” The truth as her shield, Twilight continued, “She was part of an interrupted experiment and it has left her in a bad state, so I hope you’ll go easy on her.” “Luna didn’t like what she had to say last time,” Applejack pointed out. “I’m not sure I—“ They were interrupted by an elated “Wooooooo!” that got louder as it rapidly approached. Pinkie Pie’s helmet bounced off of her head as she galloped through the woods from the back of the Lunar position to the site of the tense reunion. She screeched to a halt in front of Twilight and Rainbow Dash and started jumping around them excitedly, shouting, “YOU’RE BACK! YOU’RE BACK!” “Uh, Pinkie Pie, remember—“ Applejack interjected fruitlessly. The pink one came to rest in front of Twilight and said, “HI!” pushing her huge grin up next to the unicorn’s face. “Um, hi,” Twilight returned flatly. She was wholly unprepared for such a greeting. Pinkie tapped her hoof on the cap restraint and noted, “Ooh, you have bling. Remember to smile!” Twilight forced an uncertain smile just in time to have the air squeezed out of her in a giant bear hug. The party pony spun to face the rainbow pegasus and announced with building emphasis, “It’s Rainbow, Rainbow, RAINBOW—“ she exploded into a backflip as she cheered, “DASH!” Rainbow Rainbow Rainbow Dash smiled smugly and said, “Hey, Pinkie Pie.” Pinkie held out a hoof and Rainbow Dash answered. They launched into a frenetic series of choreographed motions as Pinkie Pie called out, “Shake it, pound it! High five, low, fake-out! Spin the record! Cock the pistol! Streamers, heil, party cannon, hacksaw! Ice the cupcake, outflank it, disarm it, eat it!” She held her hoof steady and said seriously, “Morsa—” Rainbow Dash finished, “—Muffins,” and they gave each other one last hoof-pound. “That’s our super-secret hoofshake,” Pinkie Pie explained to Twilight, and added with a wink, “You didn’t see anything.” “Ooh, you have a rope,” Pinkie cheerfully observed, as she began to notice the restrained wings and Solar insignia. Her buoyant cotton-candy mane suddenly popped and fell straight down around her face. She giggled nervously and kept her smile, but the giggle grew faint and strained, and ended like a whimper. “Because you’re captured. Because—“ her smile disappeared into an expression of pain and confusion. “You’re still a bad guy. And you make sonic rainbooms so your friends can kill my friends.” Terrible visions of the fight in the trenches filled her mind’s eye. Captain Dash nodded grimly. Pinkie Pie took a step back. Applejack shook her head and sighed, “That’s what I was trying to tell ya.” The disillusioned pony’s fear and anger rose, and she turned back to Doctor Sparkle. “You—you make evil voodoo stuff! You turn ponies into demon zombies! Like Mister Plinkers, and Big Mac had to shoot him!” Twilight stared blankly at her. She was still trying not to think about her research and its consequences. The Rough Riders, still with weapons trained on the newcomers, listened attentively to their favorite engineer’s denunciation. At last, they had two of their most conspicuous enemies in their sights, and after their losses some considered revenge. Pinkamena caught sight of Dusk and jumped beside her. “Did she do horrible experiments on you?” She reared back and commenced to sing in a shrill, desperate voice, “She’s an evil enchantress, who does evil dances! One look in her eye and she’ll put you in trances!” “Yes, I know,” Dusk interrupted. Gawking at the stranger’s black eyes, Pinkie demanded, “Did she get in your head? Does Big Mac need to shoot you? Big Mac, where’s your machine gun?” Dash quickly moved to shield Dusk from Pinkie and any potential bullets. Major Applejack sensed the situation getting out of hoof, and ordered loudly, “Calm down, Pinkie Pie! No pony is getting shot. Ya oughta be upset, REALLY upset,” she cut her eyes to Twilight, “but only filthy Solars kill their prisoners of war.” Pinkie Pie retreated to Big Mac and leaned on his side. “Ee…No…Whuh?” he slowly reacted. Major Applejack addressed her comrades, “These high-liners might have information vital to the war effort, and while they didn’t exactly repent of their evil ways, they did come voluntarily. You can be angry, but we can’t be double-crossers and we can’t turn down help.” A murmur of assent rose from the trenches. With the instigator silenced they remembered their duty and their honor. A distressed voice called out, “Applejack, Applejack!” AJ turned to Pinkie Pie and blurted, “Good gracious, what?!” “It’s not working!” Pinkamena fretted. “I’m leaning on Big Mac but I’m not feeling better!” Loose FriendsChapter 25 Rarity carefully picked her way through the woods in search of her feral friend, dodging branches that menaced her special dress. She made for the thicket where she saw Fluttershy go into hiding. As Rarity approached she found the wall of poking sticks impenetrable. “Fluttershy?” she hailed. “Don’t follow me, you’ll get dirty,” came the still, small reply. Using her magic, the unicorn pushed aside the brush to clear herself a path into the thicket. The yellow pegasus was suddenly exposed and took a startled jump into the air. Her wings carried her over a ditch and into the crook of a leafy tree. Rarity followed, but illuminating the ditch showed that it was full of mud. “You’ll be a mess, just like me,” Fluttershy warned, dejectedly. Rarity paused a moment. She drew a deep breath and put a hoof into the mud. A low gasp came out of the tree. She continued forward until she was standing completely in the mud. Fluttershy noiselessly dropped down in front of her, motioned to her dress and worried, “Oh no, I’m so sorry.” The fashionista considered the brown stains on her clothes. “It’s nothing,” she assuaged. This dress was not nothing, but instead of being upset, she saw the poetic fulfillment of what it meant to her. “Why did you hide?” “Because I’m messy,” Fluttershy replied, still looking at the ground. “Now I’m messy too,” Rarity comforted. “What is it really?” The shy one glanced into her eyes, signaling she was ready to be transparent. “Because everypony is still mad. A few winters ago all my friends and the whole world got angry with each other, and wanted me to fight, so I ran away. I knew I should do something, but I was too shy. It’s my fault,” she whimpered. “It’s not like that,” Rarity said gently. “We all played a part in what happened. We made it hard for you, tried to make you all sorts of things. I know you tried to make us happy, but you couldn’t. That’s our fault.” “I wasn’t too shy,” she related. “I tried to tell them to stop being themselves so we could still be friends,” she confessed. “I tried to make Rainbow Dash not loyal, Twilight not a student of magic, and Applejack not honest. I tried to keep them from fighting for what they believed in, but in the end, I forgot what I believed in. I gave up on friends and went after my own selfish goals. When Twilight came to my door I realized I had become too caught up in things to be generous.” “Oh no, but that’s who you are!” Fluttershy exclaimed quietly. “I mean, if you want to be… What did you do?” Rarity continued, “I remembered what was important and that a gift isn’t given because someone deserves it. So I gave up my dreams to help her and here we are.” She shrugged her soiled dress. “Now all we can do is be ourselves and be generous and kind.” “You’re right. But I’m not sure, I mean, all those ponies will be looking at me…” Fluttershy trailed off nervously. “And you’ll look fine,” Rarity said, taking out her jeweled brush. She began to comb the leaves and tangles out of the pink hairs. Fluttershy twitched at the sensation, which she hadn’t felt in years. When she was finished, the unicorn invited, “Now let’s do our thing together, like we should have. Only I’ll make sure I’m the center of attention.” The prisoners had been brought behind the Lunar position and were under guard while the officers discussed the situation. Big Mac had left Pinkie Pie’s uninvited cuddle, but she still sat by the road disconsolate. She looked up and found herself in front of old friends. “Rarity? Fluttershy?” They smiled at her. She hid her face while she wiped a tear and summoned a grin. Popping back up, she piped, “Oh yay, I’m so happy to see you!” “Don’t,” Rarity interrupted. Pinkamena slumped her shoulders and looked down. She was always so cheerful when she met ponies she liked, but she wasn’t this time. “But I was trying to be Pinkie,” she sobbed. “It’s okay. Don’t try to be any different for us,” Fluttershy reassured. “It’s okay to be angry and scared. We’re your friends, and we’re here for you anyway.” She confided in a whisper, “I’m scared too.” Rarity reinforced the timid pony with a gentle pat. “Are you upset because of Rainbow Dash and Twilight?” Fluttershy prompted. Pinkie nodded. “I don’t understand. How could they be so bad? They were my friends, and I thought they were good. How could they do all these bad things?” Fluttershy summoned the nerve to ask, “Did you have to do any bad things?” A lump formed in Pinkie’s throat. She couldn’t bear to watch her memories where it actually happened, but she could see her and Applejack meeting afterwards. They did what they were supposed to do, but when they saw each other she was ashamed to be seen that way. Her thousand-yard stare turned to a pained but resolute frown. “Yeah, but we had to,” she defended. “Applejack said it was good because we were right.” As if to make it true, she pleaded, “I was good!” “You’re right,” Rarity validated. “You should have done those things.” Fluttershy admitted, “We didn’t do anything,” and shifted nervously. Rarity opened her mouth but restrained herself. After a moment she subtly agreed, and the two bowed slightly, laying themselves under Pinkie’s judgment. “Do you forgive us?” Fluttershy asked. Pinkie Pie softened again and sniffed, “Yeah.” Fluttershy related, “Rainbow Dash and Twilight tried to be good, but they were wrong. Will you forgive them?” Pinkamena knew she wanted to, but she couldn’t. “I can’t be their friend when they’re still bad,” Pinkie protested. “That would be bad.” “Quite right,” Rarity affirmed. “But they’re here because they know they were wrong, and they want to help. When you’re ready, let’s go see them.” Pinkie mumbled, “I already said hi.” “You greeted the ponies you wished they were,” Rarity corrected. “If you don’t welcome them as they really are, you haven’t welcomed them at all.” “But they don’t deserve it,” Pinkie reminded. “No,” Rarity simply replied. “You’ll only tell Luna?” Applejack repeated with rising frustration. “I’ve been through this before. If you don’t recall, Luna didn’t approve of what you had to tell.” Twilight shot Celestia an urgent “why didn’t you tell me” look, and covered her ignorance by again insisting, “This is about the sun. She needs to hear what we know.” “Well, she said this one isn’t to come near her again, and I assured her I wouldn’t allow it,” the major averred. “Now you’re put in with her and you say, ‘I’ll only tell Luna’! Are you tryin to make me a liar?” “Dusk” stepped in to assert, “Luna reacted that way because she didn’t believe me. It was crazy for a random pegasus to say. Surely you’ll believe that if anyone knows where Celestia is (emphasis added for Twilight’s sake), it’s Twilight Sparkle.” “This is awful fishy,” the cautious major complained. “Of course we’re not telling you the whole truth,” Twilight boldly admitted. “The real information is so sensitive that it would be irresponsible to tell anyone but Luna, if it’s not a mistake to tell her. Let her hear me and then do with us what she will, just please trust me.” “Trust YOU?” Applejack repeated doubtfully. Twilight acknowledged, “I know it’s thin, but that’s all we have.” Applejack withdrew to Big Mac’s side. Tipping her hat to hide her freckled face from the familiar outsiders, she whispered to him in low tones. Pinkie Pie in tow, Rarity and Fluttershy approached. Fluttershy seized up and wouldn’t move forward into the gathering of soldiers. The unicorn ringleader assured, “I’ll handle this.” She cinched her dress tighter around the waist, and flicked mud up onto her immaculate tail. She had learned that talent and fashion sense could only take you so far. She explained to her shocked companions, “Time to slut up or shut up. Only, be sure to make your move—there won’t be a repeat performance.” The voluptuous unicorn stumbled in amongst the units as if wounded. She wilted melodramatically with her hoof across her forehead and wailed, “Oh, this mud is awful! My dress is ruined, my favorite dress! What will I ever do?” All heads turned to her. Shortly, several gravitated towards the irresistible pull of a lady in distress. A dashing young rough rider was the first to offer, “Is there anything I can do to help, ma’am?” Another colt, middle-aged but suave, shouldered past him and said, “Of course there is, private. Go fetch this lady a pail of water and some soap.” He added insincerely, “And be quick about it,” as the private turned to leave and the two cut eyes at each other. As if too distraught to support herself, she leaned towards the officer and steadied herself against him with a hoof on his medaled chest. “It’s such a terrible wilderness, what a relief to find a gentleman out here,” she complimented glibly. She glanced towards the prisoners, and was satisfied to see Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie slip unobtrusively to their targets. Unsure how to begin, Pinkamena mumbled, “Um, hi.” “Oh hey,” Rainbow Dash answered. “I didn’t think you were coming back, either of you.” “We just wanted to say…” Pinkie began, and froze up. “Hi.” “…Hi…?” Twilight responded with equal uncertainty. At Fluttershy’s prompting, Pinkie uttered the touching sentiment, “I don’t really want Big Mac to shoot you.” Rainbow Dash huffed sarcastically, “That’s a relief.” Fluttershy worried to herself, “Am I failing again? Is everyone watching me?” They weren’t, for now. Rarity could see that Fluttershy was still intimidated. She would have to keep up a fuss until she could be sure nothing would interrupt her friends’ important moment. The private returned improbably quickly, sloshing the water in his helmet as he rode to Rarity’s rescue. The Manehattanite officer proposed, “Do you need me to help you out of that outfit, so we can wash it?” A less experienced temptress would have acceded, but with a sly smile she realized it would take longer to clean if she was still wearing it. “Oh, but I lost my suitcase and I don’t have anything else to wear.” The country soldier took the opportunity to advance, “That’s alright, ma’am, we can fix you right up,” and put a stained fringe of the garment into his improvised wash bucket. “Oh what a relief, it will come out,” Rarity remarked, observing his progress. He started farther from her body but worked his way close to her flanks and under her. As he rubbed at the mud underneath, he could have been milking her. The officer’s eyes bulged out with jealousy. Those who weren’t distracted with Rarity were interested in their comrades’ rivalry. The private finished and she thanked him warmly, before he was told, “Resume your watch on the south side, we can’t be complacent.” The officer’s move was soon rewarded, as Rarity requested, “My tail is all dirty! Usually I would use a mirror to fix it, but there don’t seem to be any in this awful place. Would you be so kind?” “Certainly, madam,” he eagerly replied. He took out a kerchief, dipped it in the water, and began to stroke her swirled tail. He gently eased out the impurities and to his credit managed not to disrupt its sculpted form—but he did spend undue attention on the base of her tail. A colt nearby turned and clutched loyally to a picture of his sweetheart back home. Applejack cocked an eyebrow and murmured, “Looks like the big city loosened her up. Never thought she’d get so tawdry.” Fluttershy nudged her pink companion. “You did a lot of bad things,” Pinkie Pie continued. “Yeah?” Captain Dash acknowledged gruffly. “It’s not their fault, it’s Celestia,” Dusk interceded. “She made them do it.” Twilight shot her a sideways glance with raised eyebrows. Celestia shrugged. “She tricked us pretty well,” Twilight recognized, “but sometimes we chose not to see the truth.” “Yeah, we know what we did,” Captain Dash agreed woefully. “Are you sorry?” Pinkie asked. “Yes,” Doctor Sparkle sincerely answered. “I’m sorry for all the dark magic I’ve done for Celestia, and I’m sorry for turning on you.” Listening to herself, she shook her head. “An apology just isn’t enough.” “Are you going to be good now?” Pinkie asked once more. Rainbow Dash decided, “I’ll try, but I don’t know what that means anymore.” Pinkie Pie cut her anger loose and said, “I forgive you.” “Me too,” Fluttershy added softly. “Really? Wow,” Dash marveled. Rarity allowed her new devotee a sultry gaze before a heavy-set engineer took her wandering attention. It was not his build but his cigarettes that drew her. The officer watched in consternation as she sidled up to the big colt and entreated, “Do you have a smoke for a lady?” He figured his first thought, “Hell yeah,” would be inappropriate, so he replied with a winsome grin and held out three of the precious rollups. He lit them both up and they sat smoking together. She pretended not to notice that he was scruffy and uncouth, or perhaps even let her demeanor suggest she thought it was charming. Taking a deep breath, he snorted a smoke ring out one nostril. She graced the strange behavior with a reserved laugh—and honestly, smoke-play did interest her. The males nearby were astonished that Humphrey Heaver could make a connection with a refined lady, and their faith was renewed that everypony has a chance. Pinkamena peeked up at her curly mane, which had somehow piled itself on her head again. “I’m Pinkie Pie again!” she exclaimed, and pulled Fluttershy into a tight embrace. “Eeep!” the startled pegasus cried, and wilted in Pinkie’s hooves. “We should be friends again,” Private Pie cheerfully suggested. Applejack, alerted by the pink one’s outburst, marched to the scene and demanded, “What’s goin’ on? I thought I told you to leave them alone.” Pinkie Pie unloaded, “I did, but Rarity and Fluttershy brought me back and I forgave them and I’m Pinkie Pie again!” The major was taken aback. “Whoa, hold on, they’re still Solars! How can you trust ‘em?” “They know they were bad, and now we can help them do the right thing,” Pinkie explained. “I don’t know if we should take them to Luna,” Applejack cautioned. “I don’t trust ‘em.” Rarity overheard the conversation and quickly excused herself from her male company to join her friends. “Do you trust me?” she asked Applejack. “Do you trust us?” The cowgirl could hardly believe her eyes as Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Fluttershy, Twilight, and Rainbow Dash looked at her plaintively, begging for a favorable ruling. “Oh no, we are not a ‘us’!” she protested. They were together again, and it had to mean something, though she was afraid to admit it. At last she half-conceded, “I’m gonna wait to hear what Luna has to say about them.” Celestia’s slight smile understated her reaction at seeing what she had torn apart coming back together. “Thanks, Fluttershy,” Rainbow Dash communicated privately. “That, uh, took balls.” Fluttershy blushed, and thought for a second. “Oh—oh, yes I know. Rarity helped me.” “I meant jumping in front of that ambush…?” the Solar soldier clarified. “Oh,” the timid pegasus understood. Party KillerChapter 26 Applejack just finished a discussion with two other officers, in which they came to an agreement as to their course of action. “Chow time, everypony gather round!” Pinkie Pie called out. “What do you mean, we’re each carrying our own rations,” Applejack objected as she followed the sound—and the lights. She stared at the incongruous scene behind her smiling comrade with disbelief. “What the…” “Oh, I gathered stuff from everyone, but I didn’t want to bother you. I’m throwing a party!” “Now?!” the major protested. “How does that make sense?” “Well, I was so happy to have my friends back, I couldn’t help myself!” Private Pinkie bubbled. “We’ll have to eat before we go anyway. And the troops could use a morale boost.” “Well that’s true, but I’m not sure it would work,” Applejack expressed, and gave a critical eye to the bright party pavilion that had somehow appeared. Tarps had been strung up between trees and glow sticks were suspended on strings. A disco ball hung in the middle of the enclosure and radiated little beams of the light that struck it. What could be putting off that ridiculous light? Fumblemore was a unicorn, but his lack of talent prevented him from qualifying as a combat magician; he had joined as regular infantry. Now he sat with his horn pulsing brightly in many colors. He was wearing a vacuous smile as if entranced with his own display. “Private, this is dangerous. We’re kinda hiding!” Applejack reacted with disbelief. “Oh, that’s what Big Mac said, that’s why we put the tarps up. I’ve got two pegasi who say it doesn’t really stick out from the air,” the party planner reported proudly. “Hm, well, if Big Mac is satisfied,” Applejack conceded. Pinkie nodded to somepony behind her. The red stallion gave a reserved “Eeyup.” They went in together and found Applejack’s famous friends eating… something. Pinkie Pie served out a moist, soft substance she didn’t recognize. “What in Equestria is this?” “Cake!” Pinkie claimed. “I made it from MREs and some stuff, Sugarcube Corner style.” The major took a cautious bite. “Hm. It’s the strangest cake I’ve ever tasted, but it still beats the usual grub.” As confused but hungry soldiers gathered to the site, Fluttershy put a wing over Dusk and cooed, “It’s alright. I know all these ponies are probably making you nervous, but it’s okay.” The wild pegasus was transferring her own flighty feelings, and using her caretaker instincts to calm herself down, treating the odd little pony like one of her critters. Twilight, Rainbow Dash, and Rarity stared and their jaws dropped. Celestia remained quiet and did not protest the ridiculous treatment. She had endured almost as much from Derpy, and Fluttershy could be even sweeter. “I’m here, so you don’t have to be afraid of anything,” she continued. “Here, you should have some cake.” Dusk accepted it with a timid smile. Fluttershy looked up at the shocked Solars and scolded, “Don’t stare, you’ll scare her.” Celestia winked. Rarity’s face twitched. Dash looked to Twilight, who said, “I… uhm…” as she had no professional response for this situation. “What’s goin’ on?” Applejack asked. “NOTHING!” the three of them blurted, which earned them a suspicious squint. “Dinner and a show, that’s what’s going on!” Pinkie Pie announced, pulling a record player out of somewhere. “Where did that come from? How is that ‘emergency supplies’?!” the major griped. Pinkie took the cord and looped it over Fumblemore’s horn. He had to exert himself to power it and continue the technicolor flashes, but now that his magic was on display he was committed. She set Vinyl Scratch spinning, as she headed for the middle of the party, everyone automatically cleared a space for her. Her hooves moved like she was the living embodiment of the music as she began to dance. Just how high that tune went, how fast it beat, and how crazy it spun was just what she was there to be. And it went dirty. “Wait, Pinkie!” Applejack called out helplessly. “Aw no,” she facehoofed. “Well I think it’s cute,” Rarity chuckled at first. “Oh!” She put her hoof to her mouth. “Private Pie, don’t do that with that tree, you don’t even know what that means!” the major shouted more insistently, so the Pinkie show moved on without skipping a beat. “Dadgum it, that’s not any better,” Applejack winced. She turned to the rest of her friends, and with a look of exhaustion, apologized, “She doesn’t mean nothin’ by it, she just saw it somewhere and thought it was cool. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep her grounded by myself? This is what happens when y’all leave.” Fluttershy didn’t know what was going on. Her only complaint was that it was too loud. Applejack and Rarity surveyed the onlookers. Some of the Rough Riders had moved away or turned the brims of their hats to the unseemly spectacle, but most of the soldiers took it in greedily. The major lamented, “The principles… the discipline…” Then they saw a similar sly smile on Dash’s face. Rarity was taken aback, and gave a look of dismay that Applejack took to mean, “Even I have standards.” “You are NOT thinking what it looks like you’re thinking!” Applejack challenged, defensive of her naïve pink comrade. “Actually I was thinking if you let me loose I could take this up a notch—and bail you out before you shoot that record player,” Dash bargained. “You think you can top Pinkie? You’d lose a dance war,” the major warned. Dash kept up a smug confidence. “I guess I’ve gotta see this,” Applejack decided, and started to untie the pegasus. Captain Dash shook off the ropes and boasted, “A Solar Scout doesn’t lose.” The freed captive was met with distrust from the other soldiers, who made as though they would drop their cake to take out their weapons and keep vigilant guard. Applejack rolled her eyes and ordered, “At ease, I’ll handle it,” pulling out her revolver. The colorful pegasus stretched her wings a few times to restore circulation and sauntered over to the turntable. She gave it a calculated kick that shifted the speed of the record. The new sound fit less with the sexy city swing and called for a more athletic routine which would favor the stunt flyer. She started to take in the movement of the music. Once she got the beat, she headed for her exuberant friend. Dash took off and gave a flip, and everyone did a double-take to make sure they were seeing what they thought they were seeing. She was dancing upside down, using the top of the makeshift pavilion as a floor. She joined Pinkie in busting a sick groove, matching the party pony step for step. Together they made a bizarre, mirrored duet that amplified the rhythm like a music video. Twilight had been deep in thought, but the spectacle caught her attention and made her smile. The Pinkie Pie didn’t worry for a moment that she had been upstaged—anything that took the party higher only added to her excitement. She raved harder, leaving Dash struggling to keep up. Going vertical looked like so much fun, and gravity could only hold her back so long. Rainbow freestyled her own jig while Pinkie Pie folded out a small trampoline. Then they were both airborne, as the energetic earth pony lobbed herself up around Dash repeatedly. Despite the new dynamic, they both kept rhythm. Dash lost her cool expression to a huge grin. They “danced” around each other for a while before learning to dance with each other in an unprecedented new style. Dash moved in a smooth, continuous electro-waltz with a partner who only existed beside her half the time, and in a new orientation at each bounce. Everyone was entranced by the freak phenomenon. Twilight burst out laughing at her friends’ theatrical antics. As the song built up into a crescendo, Pinkie Pie launched herself on top of the disco ball. Before she reached it, Dash was flying towards the bottom of the shimmering orb to meet her. They struck a pose mirroring each other for one mind-blowing moment, and then the cord holding them up snapped. They crashed to the ground in front of Applejack and shattered the disco ball to pieces. As the music ran out, Pinkie Pie laughed, “That has got to be more than 20% cooler!” Dash, still pinned under her, agreed, “So—*hurk*—awesome!” They gave each other a weak hoof-pound. Applejack chuckled. Then she sighed, and remarked, “Well, that went just about like the real war.” Pinkie Pie cleared the stars from her head. Then she bounced up and announced, “Time for presents!” Everypony stared at her. The major cuffed Dash’s wings again and remarked, “Ya know, Pinks, there ain’t a present you could give these troops that they’d want right now.” Pinkie Pie cocked her eyebrow and shot Applejack a look that said, “Challenge Accepted,” before her expression reverted to its usual plain smile. “Guess who found the mail that came in hours before the battle!” she exclaimed as she produced a sack of correspondence. The soldiers took real interest and crowded around her for the chance to receive precious word from their family and friends. Of course, there were only a few letters addressed to those who happened to be there, but each one was a treasure. Some received them with excitement, others with tears. Some read aloud with their combat buddies. The bringer of tidings finally came around to Applejack and hoofed her an irregular scrap of paper with a few words scrawled on it. “Woof woof, lick. Winona,” Applejack read doubtfully. “Yeah, okay, I wrote that one, I just felt bad I didn’t have anything for you,” Pinkie admitted lamely. A worried expression came over Applejack’s face and she suddenly seemed ill. “I’d do anything to hear from the folks. I don’t even know if they’re alive. I think I saw fire comin’ up from Ponyville, and what I heard ain’t good. By Harmony, they better be alright.” “I heard everyone was evacuated,” Dusk informed. AJ’s countenance brightened, but she guarded her feelings somewhat to examine the strange pony she had almost forgotten. “Oh yeah?” For her own amusement, Dusk added, “Yeah, and do you know who helped everypony out? Trixie Trotter.” The major drew a blank for a good minute. “Oh yeah?!” She shook her head with wonder. “I’ll be… That’s enough to confuse a girl from pen to pasture.” She squinted knowingly at the odd pegasus and said, “And she’s a Solar spy to boot. She was with you, after all. Damn, everything’s backwards.” Speaking of which, she turned to her Best Frenemy Forever, Captain Rainbow Dash. “Hey you.” Pinkie Pie watched them with hushed expectation as her brilliant master plan was coming to fruition. “As long as we’re here I guess we’re supposed to be catchin’ up and bondin’,” Applejack conceded, “but I won’t do it like a pussy.” Though it was an invitation, she took a grim demeanor. “You know we’ve changed, and I know where the real stuff is. We’ve gone through shit, so much it’s fubar, so if we’re really supposed to be friends, we’re gonna bring it out. What’s your worst op? What messed you up?” Dash was silent a moment. Still resenting the wing restraints, she was reluctant to give in any further. Applejack knew she would not back down from any kind of competition. “Tell ya what, I’ll go first, but you better not give me something weak.” Imperceptible to the others, Dash agreed. “I haven’t told this to anyone, though I think Big Mac figured it out.” She had a pretense for bringing it up, but she was actually glad to get it off her chest. Rarity listened with concern. Despite her real feelings, she could not help but project an air of confirmed suspicion, as though she were wise for avoiding the conflict. Applejack began her narrative. “I knew a colt, a good colt, somebody I respected… but he lost somebody and started to go downhill. We were infiltrating through the White Tail Woods, moving cautiously. We knew the enemy was out there somewhere, but we were days in without contact. We all took shifts scouting ahead while the main group laid low, and moved when it was clear. We both got sent to clear different areas. I saw nothin’ till I came back—and found him sitting just a little ways from the others doing some kind of drug he’d picked up from another company. I pick him up, wipe him off, and start giving him a piece of my mind, but I laid off when the lieutenant trotted up. He said there was a hunter-killer team to the north so we needed to move fast, and asked if the valley was clear. ‘Yes sir,’ that wasted colt told him. I meant to deal with the fella in private, and things were urgent, and—“ Applejack looked down. “I guess I didn’t say anything. We all rushed into that valley right on top of a platoon of Solars. They were just as surprised, and we routed ‘em, but their backup tore us up good and chased us till nightfall. Afterwards I asked him in front of the lieutenant, ‘Did you check that valley?’ and I looked him straight in the eye as he said ‘yes’. That’s where I learned what a lie looks like—that nasty mix of fear and audacity. I guess I’m to blame, damnit, how could I not stand up for the truth?” “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Fluttershy offered, but it seemed painfully empty coming from someone who hadn’t been in the war. Celestia cowered away from the tales of woe that she had caused. “That’s pretty fubar,” Captain Dash validated. “Geez, my worst op?” She winced and grimaced. She weighed her options to see if there was something she could tell that would be both sufficiently screwed up and winsome to Lunar ears. “I could tell you about a mission that went sideways, but that’s not it.” She took a breath and began ruefully. “Cloudsdale. Nothing makes you feel like shit like shooting up your hometown. Reclaiming… liberating… that’s what we called it. But more pegasi than we thought had gone over, and we pegasi were always warriors—what we had to do to take the city…” she explained, shaking her head. “I couldn’t believe it. There wasn’t much left when we were done. I was proud of that place more than Canterlot, but if I ever see another red cloud… To be a part of something like that, to break your own race and kill your own dreams… You know I’d always wanted to perform with the Wonderbolts in the big stadium. When I flew through the ruins, Zeze applauded and laughed. I didn’t let on, but I just fucking died inside.” “Yeah, that’s fubar alright,” Applejack agreed, respecting her old enemy’s regrets. “Pinkie Pie knows what we’re talking about. She got through the first war pretty clean—sorta—but she joined the club yesterday.” Pinkie Pie had listened in sympathetic silence. “What’s fubar?” she asked innocently. Applejack gave a sour, restrained expression. Rainbow Dash gladly spelled out the meaning of the acronym. “Fucked Up Beyond All Repair. Or Recognition, I’ve heard both.” She was afraid to ask, but did anyway, “What’s your story.” Pinkie Pie bit her lip and looked away. Applejack steadied her friend with a hoof. “I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but it helps. I can say it for ya.” “I wasn’t with her some of the time, but she had her first real combat in the trenches yesterday. She probably came down especially hard after it got her up so high,” the major said, shying away from “it” with a measure of regret for having brought up the topic. Captain Dash whispered, “Sonic Rainboom.” “Yeah, that. Put her back in that innocent, joyful place, ya know. Like we all were when we got our cutie marks. And then it was killin’ time.” Dash hung her head and stretched her wing back slightly as if she would cover up her personal emblem. Applejack recovered, “I ain’t hatin’, except maybe on the war. I guess that’s part of all our fubar stories. None of us thought we’d end up using our special talents that way.” “Anyway, it didn’t help Pinks that she’s friends with everypony. One of our own, someone she knew, attacked us. His mind was all screwed up with dark magic shit.” Applejack couldn’t help but cut her eyes at Doctor Sparkle, but she looked away before Twilight saw. “Almost killed her, but Big Mac dropped him. You’ll never hear my brother cryin’ about it,” she diverged, turning to him. The stallion had been right there, but had been almost invisible from his sheer silence. She locked eyes with him for a moment in a sympathetic gaze. “I know you’re gonna carry that weight.” Pinkie Pie stood sobbing softly with tightly closed eyes. “I’m sorry I’m part of your fubar story,” Dash apologized solemnly. On behalf of all of them, Applejack reasoned, “It’s alright. I mean, it’s all messed up shit. But we’re not that different. We never wanted to let each other down and fight each other, but that’s how it happened. If you think about it, we soldiers aren’t fighting each other as much as the war. I reckon we’re all survivors, but none of us get away without losing a part of ourselves.” Pinkie Pie looked up at Rainbow Dash and nodded. Twilight finally approached the group, and confessed, “Pinkie Pie was right earlier. It’s also my fault, but that’s my fubar story too.” Before she could say what she meant, Applejack shot back, “You don’t know the pain we’re talkin’ about. It’s a soldier thing.” Twilight was taken aback. She was about to share her private death, hoping for some kind of solace, but all the acceptance seemed to have run out just as she arrived. She took a backward step and a gasping breath as something more than insecurity began to surface. “I held it down until now, why can’t I hold—this can’t happen,” she muttered under her breath. Dusk pushed out from under Fluttershy’s wing and warned, “Wait, don’t—“ Captain Dash joined in with annoyance, “Yeah, you’ve never seen the front lines, just stayed walled off from everything behind your books.” Twilight was trembling and stammering, “I’m—no!” Then she snapped. “I don’t know pain?! I’LL TEACH YOU PAIN!” she yelled in a deep, unnatural voice. Her eyes filled with bright, polluted energy and as she sprang forward, black lightning snaked out towards her friends. Streams of cold ether whipped about as the hostile magic spread from Twilight through the whole company. It coursed into them with an icy tearing sensation and afflicted their hearts. All cried out with agony as the shadow that gripped them rallied every evil within them to torture their minds. They were all transfixed and helpless for what seemed an eternity, though it was not long. Then the dark magic dropped them to the ground and returned, still hungry, to Doctor Sparkle. She screamed and convulsed as the shadow sprites bit through her and wormed around her skin. Fighting half-frozen joints, she staggered out of the tent, gritting her teeth, growling, and screaming again. A terrified, enraged soldier picked up a gun and chased her out. With sheer desperation to stop the act, Rainbow Dash broke free of the influence first and jumped to intervene. The soldier gnashed his teeth and aimed his weapon, but Dash dropped into his sights. “Don’t shoot!” Dash barked. “Are you going to kill me?!” The gun shook in the other warrior’s hooves. “Are you going to kill me?!” Dash repeated, exasperated. The selfless act stunned the mad colt. He blinked and coughed as the effect of the possession waned. He dropped his gun and began to vomit on the ground. Twilight fled to the edge of the camp, where she collapsed as the evil constricted around her. The other friends joined Rainbow Dash outside. “What did she do? Where’d she go?” Applejack asked. Dash pointed and urgently informed, “I don’t know, but it’s hurting her too. She doesn’t look good.” “Damnit, she’s the one who knows magic! What are we supposed to do?” Applejack said with anxious frustration. “Celestia only knows,” Dash replied automatically. Dash and Rarity exchanged a glance and ran back in to pick Dusk up to her hooves. “What do we do? You have to know!” Celestia’s protector demanded. The troubled soul had more to endure from the attack, but this was not her first time and she recovered herself to give answer. “It’s dark magic; there isn’t a spell to counter it, only Harmony.” The two assisted her out to the others and towards Twilight as Dash inquired further, “How does that help? The Elements are back in Canterlot!” “No, it’s you,” Dusk claimed. “‘Friendship is magic.’ You’re all linked, remember?” She quickly analyzed the facts. “It’s something that’s been inhabiting her. I think the only thing that kept it from appearing earlier was your loyalty. When that slipped, even for a moment, she was vulnerable. Now she needs all five of you together.” The six of them approached the spot where the magician had fallen. She flailed about, writhing on the ground in uncontrollable spasms and hyperventilating. As they approached, she gave a threatening, unpony yowl—then screamed in pain again. They gathered around her, but at a safe distance. “Do your thing—quickly,” Dusk urged. “I don’t know what to do, I’ve been tellin’ nothin’ but the truth all night,” Applejack puzzled. “How could I be any more loyal?” Dash asked, and called out, “Come on, Twilight, I believe in you!” “That’s good, I think you covered it when you defended her,” Dusk reasoned. Pinkie Pie tried a weak, “Ha…” but couldn’t really laugh at this terrible time. “But I have to, for Twilight!” she thought. In denial of the situation, she twisted her face until it formed her familiar Pinkie-grin and she dug deep for a hearty guffaw. “No, wait, don’t laugh at her now!” Celestia scolded. “I don’t think that’s how it works. I know you made her laugh earlier, hopefully it’s a residual effect.” Pinkamena lapsed into helpless uncertainty. Rarity observed aloud, “It felt so cold—she must be cold.” She hastily inspected a nearby tent and returned with a blanket. She levitated it over the suffering unicorn and dropped it onto her gently, *giving* it to her. Twilight’s thrashing quickly pushed the blanket off of her; it would have provided little warmth to one cold from the inside anyway. “I feel so weak,” Rarity lamented. Fluttershy told herself, “Um, kindness. Kindness.” She approached Doctor Sparkle to find some way of showing the compassion that was already welling up inside her. The body before her, however, was turning a darker color than Twilight beneath its abusive covering of shadows. The thing lunged at her, swiping a hoof at her and stretching its neck to snap its long black teeth at her. Fluttershy dodged backwards and flew behind Rainbow Dash, and it collapsed again. “We can’t get any closer without honesty,” Dash alerted. “But—I—“ Applejack stammered. Celestia could only barely grasp what was required, but she did know—she had a dim understanding of Harmony from the time she had spent fighting it. “Applejack, the truth doesn’t always have to hurt,” she claimed. “How do you really feel about her? And Pinkie—I don’t think crying with your friend who’s hurting is a bad thing; it’s not the opposite of laughter.” Pinkamena finally gave herself permission to bawl and weep. Applejack stepped forward and said loudly, “Alright, listen here, Twilight. I, uh… I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I was wrong. The war’s hurt you just as much as the rest of us, maybe more. I know you probably blame yourself, like I do, and of course you’re responsible for what you’ve done. I just don’t want you to punish yourself for it, not because that wouldn’t be fair, but ‘cause…” Applejack paused a moment and realized the truth she hadn’t admitted, “’Cause I care about you, Twilight. I got real angry. I tried not to miss you, not to care about you, but I still do.” Celestia’s eyes widened, and she took a step back. “That’s good, you all keep it up,” she encouraged weakly. With their focus on Twilight, the old, twisted alicorn snuck away slowly. Then she turned and retreated headlong into the woods. The Twilight thing pawed sideways at the ground, pushing itself back from the threat. Fluttershy approached gingerly from the side, and it growled menacingly. The shy one stopped but stood her ground. “Oh, Twilight, I’m your friend. We love you, remember?” she pleaded in her sweet and soothing voice. Rarity came right in front of the tormented magician to look her in her terrifying eyes. “I don’t have any things to give you that will help you,” she admitted. “Perhaps I can give you a reprieve,” she suggested, taking a resolute stance. “If you can, send it back into me so I can hold the hurt for a little while.” The thing grinned savagely and jumped off at her. It would make her regret the offer. It impacted Rarity, flipping her backwards and sideways to dash her head against the ground. With her mental defenses down, she was vulnerable to its equally damaging spiritual attacks. Twilight gasped and stared stunned at her friend’s sacrifice. In an instant Fluttershy was pressed against her, nuzzling her neck and spreading a wing over her. The thing burst out of Rarity with a scream. It was appalled to discover that it was wrong about the mortal, and understood that something quite impossible was happening. It filled Twilight again and growled at Fluttershy. The supposedly fearful pony still embraced the dangerous being, softly insisting, “We forgive you for those things you did. I’m your friend, and you can’t make me not love you.” The thing was too weak to strike back. Rarity lifted herself partially off the ground and she raised her bruised head with the same resolution as before. It could not make her regret her choice. “Do you need to do it again?” she offered through the pain. Twilight was gaining control, and she remembered instinctively what she must do. Only the smallest spark of her magic would be needed. She could feel the thing’s cold grip all over her, but it stopped moving—frozen in fear! Thoughts came to her. If she did this, she would completely cut herself off from dark magic. The magical knowledge and prowess that she had acquired over two years of demanding research would be lost. Currently she was powerful, so powerful she could take out an entire company of soldiers despite the inhibitor on her horn. Now that it faced a lethal threat for trying to take over, she could perhaps turn it to her will more easily. She didn’t know whether the thoughts were hers, but it didn’t matter. This was never the kind of magician she had wanted to be. She didn’t want power like this that hurt her and her friends. She would be much weaker on her own, but not with her friends. Why would she preserve this awful thing when Harmony was right there? She closed her eyes. A tremendous screech sounded and black lightning burst out of her, disintegrating in flashes of light. The invisible shockwave blasted the cold away from the camp, and warmth rose up from the ground. Twilight opened her eyes, which glowed pure and radiant. She returned Fluttershy’s affections for a moment and then stood up. She was overflowing with a power that was not her own, a good power. She looked at Rarity. The white unicorn’s face healed and the splitting ache in her head went away. More importantly, everything that was wrong inside was healed, and in every way that the darkness had violated her she felt complete and loved. The NLR fighters had gathered to the site, and had been held back by Rainbow Dash and Applejack. Now Harmony burst out of Twilight in all directions, filling all nearby with peace and wholesome strength. All of the ill effects of the earlier attack were reversed and surpassed. “Hee hee, that tickles!” Pinkie Pie piped, and rolled about laughing. Too soon the presence passed, and Twilight was her normal self again—her normal self from years ago, before she had given herself over to the night horrors. Her friends all hugged her and they broke down laughing and crying. At last extricating herself from her friends, Twilight found Celestia at the edge of the camp where she was hiding. “What are you doing back here?” she asked. Celestia stared at the ground and reminded, “I can’t take being around the Elements.” Even as she spoke she leaned away from her old student as if her presence was uncomfortable. “They were the only thing that could dispel the dark magic, but it feels like I would die if I got too close.” Twilight kept her distance, but with a gentle magic touch signaled her helper to look up at her. They locked eyes for a moment and Twilight said, “Thank you.” What did Celestia expect her to say? But gratitude seemed inappropriate. “Don’t thank me,” the ash one insisted. “I did this to you in the first place.” Twilight’s temper rose as she remembered the years of manipulation and horrible “research”. “Fuck you,” she conceded. “That’s more like it,” thought the duskling. That was reality: FUBAR. The unicorn’s anger passed quickly. It fled from the feeling inside her; it was the warmth of her healing by the Elements. She reconsidered, and decided that she would not let Celestia make this choice for her. “No, actually, thank you,” Twilight said finally. Celestia shook her head. Twilight turned and walked away, leaving her with that same sentiment, now more disconcerting for being so deliberate. “Why did she have to do that?” she complained to no one. It shouldn’t have been troubling, but there was something about it. “She ought to hate me,” Celestia said, realizing what it was that bothered her. She did not deserve anyone’s thanks. Everyone should be trying to help her raise the sun, but no one should care about her. Looking back, she had received some of the actions of Derpy and Trixie with a vain sense of entitlement. Each time, they had worn her down to accept their kindness as such. (It was still kindness from Trixie, even though it was rough around the edges.) However, when they parted, she had tried to pay them back. Now that she had given up her internal charade and recognized herself as Celestia, she couldn’t stop thinking how they should have despised her. Their undeserving graces were wonderful but unnerved her somehow. Whatever it was, she hadn’t felt it for a couple thousand years. The company had been on the move since the battle, and a few hours’ rest was deemed appropriate before they attempted to rejoin the main group. An extra tent was pitched for the newcomers—or did the occupants give it up for them? Dusk had not paid enough attention to know, but she entered it and curled up on the blanket that had been provided. Thankfully the forest blocked the wind, but the night was still cold. The world was getting colder. Worries would be her bedfellows again, it seemed. Her health might not hold out. Could she see the doctor without giving away her identity? She couldn’t let any Lunar army ponies see her horn; she knew what they wanted to do to the Empress. If she wasn’t lynched by then, she would have to face Luna. And it was all an attempt to follow a picture she had seen in a psychotic book. Something slid across her skin unexpectedly. She looked up as Fluttershy finished drawing another blanket over her. More unprovoked kindness. Celestia considered pushing the blanket back off of herself, but a glance in the yellow pony’s eyes stopped her. No pony could resist Fluttershy’s smile. All she could do was smile back. Fluttershy moved on and bedded down nearby. Now that she was cozy, Celestia could only puzzle over that new feeling as she drifted to sleep. Enmity RoadChapter 27 The band of Lunar troops marched southwest, following a narrow trail through the jungle. No longer so closely guarded, the friends had spread out naturally along the column. Twilight had joined Applejack at the head. Their conversation was not unpleasant, but still awkward, especially since Twilight still held her secrets. The magician then fell behind slightly, and the two took to their own thoughts. Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash traveled in the middle of the group and, if anything, enjoyed each other’s company too much. Occasionally, their laughter sounded incongruously along the line of discouraged soldiers. Near the back, Rarity and Fluttershy trotted side by side, and Dusk followed them. Fluttershy did not need the trail. She could have just as easily weaved over and through the jungle foliage, but as long as she was part of the group she preferred to stay close beside her friend. The unicorn had a steadying effect on her, and they shared the experience of being “the civilian ones”. Bound by memories of bygone times, Rarity was determined to bring Fluttershy back to her former well-kempt state. The yellow pony did not miss civilized hygiene, but soaked up the positive contact. As they walked, the stylist’s rag and brush hovered around Fluttershy, cleaning and grooming her. “Ah, that’s how I remember you,” Rarity announced as she returned Fluttershy’s mane to its original shape. “How did you ever live in a place like this?” the city friend asked. “Oh, really, it’s not very hard when the animals like you,” the wild pegasus explained. “They showed me around and helped me find food and water.” “But it’s so dark and frightening,” Rarity observed with concern. Fluttershy tilted her head and viewed the forest around them as if she had not considered that before. “It only gets dangerous at night. I slept alright though, since I knew that most of the noises around me were my animal friends. Sometimes they let me stay in their dens.” “You slept in dirty holes?” Rarity reacted with surprise. “They’re very cozy,” the hermit replied. “There’s no place else to be when it’s cold and rainy.” Rarity had managed to keep a purse that contained her essential supplies. Small amounts of cosmetic ointments restored body and shine, and a spritz of perfume took the edge off Fluttershy’s gamey smell. “I hope my other friends will still recognize me,” she worried. Dusk turned off the path, saying, “Rarity, come here. I want to show you something.” “Oh, I don’t know,” Rarity objected. “It looks even more dark and dirty over there.” “It’s just around here. You don’t want to miss it,” Dusk insisted. “Alright, just one moment though,” the unicorn allowed, and followed. Dusk pushed aside some leaves to give her a better look at something white. Rarity gasped at the sight. There, in a musty space sheltered by a tangle of tree roots, a huge and voluptuous flower bloomed. Rarity was not an easy judge, but this was a thing of real beauty. “It’s a Darkfold Star. They’re very rare, and only grow in the darkest, harshest jungles. There’s something beautiful everywhere, even if no pony can see it.” The drab misfit gazed longingly at the pure white petals. Fluttershy took up a station in the branches above to look down at them, fascinated by their fascination. Rarity took in every detail of the flower before she noticed the strained expression. She whispered to Celestia, “Oh, Princess, I know it must be hard for you. You were beautiful, too.” “Now I’m ugly,” Dusk moaned. “There’s something there, we just need to make it show,” Rarity encouraged. They regained the path and she took to her new makeover project eagerly. Out came the ointments. Dusk’s mane had grown slightly longer, so there was more to work with than at Derpy’s apartment. Rarity experimented with several styles until she found one that complimented the faux pegasus; simple turned out to be best. They both winced as the bristles of the brush scraped audibly over her horn. Rarity looked about, aware that any self-respecting barber would identify the sound easily. No one seemed to notice, so she continued, and finished cautiously. She gave the tail a similar treatment. She soon discovered that Dusk’s streaked coat was a new medium for her art. Rarity combed and cleaned away bits of ash, leaving speckled areas that complimented Dusk’s form. Rarity put away her things, satisfied that she had accomplished all that she could without a proper salon. “Am I beautiful?” Celestia asked. Rarity gave her a once-over, taking in the scrawny body, oddly-shaped face, and persistently disturbing eyes. She answered with a bemused smile, “It’s a start.” Meanwhile, Applejack was deep in private contemplation. “That Dusk is an unsettling creature,” she thought. Applejack was still shocked, and none too pleased, to encounter her again. The creepy pegasus lied to her and mocked her. Or perhaps she hadn’t lied; Applejack remembered now that she was insane. She was obviously insane because she couldn’t be… And now she was with Twilight. The major studied Doctor Sparkle and wondered, “A failed experiment, huh? Could she have failed that bad?” Applejack plied her memory—most of what she remembered was the battle, but it seemed like there was an important detail she was forgetting, or maybe didn’t even pay attention to at the time. The forester who led the way froze and held up a hoof. Applejack snapped from her thoughts and shouted, “Company halt!” Something whipped out of the shadows at the forester, who deflected the blow. The thing dropped onto the path in front of him and slithered away like a snake. The colt drew a machete and readied himself. Another attack came from the other side; he swung, and a piece of vine flopped lifeless to the dirt. “Mirkweed,” he cussed. “See if you can find a way around,” Applejack said to the guide. He nodded and disappeared into the woods. “You boys start bushwhackin’ in case he comes up short,” she ordered the soldiers next to her. They reluctantly moved forward and began the difficult task of opening the way through the patch of hostile vines. Applejack wasn’t frustrated by the delay; maybe it was an opportunity to clear something up. She walked down the column and passed Twilight where she was standing. Twilight would have returned a smile, but met with a severe eye she looked away. Applejack had talked enough with the tight-lipped magician and wouldn’t waste any more time in that direction. It was worth a glance over the shoulder to catch Twilight watching her with concern. She passed Rainbow Dash, who was still distracted with Pinkie Pie, and spotted a low gray figure through the mulling soldiers. She took a direct course for the pegasus, and troops saw her countenance and stepped out of the way. Rarity noted her approach, and motioning to her companions said, “Watch her for a moment, Fluttershy.” With that she moved to intercept the major. Applejack hadn’t planned on this, but decided to go along with the interruption. She hadn’t gotten the opportunity to speak with Rarity alone, and it was a worthwhile avenue to explore. “What’s wrong?” Rarity inquired. “The Everfree Forest decided to hold us up,” Applejack returned, “It’ll take a bit to work around, so we’re taking a breather.” “I’m glad for it. I can abide the occasional walk in the woods, but this is out of hoof,” she joked. “Is there something you wanted to tell me?” Applejack invited. “Well yes, if you could get that one officer to stop following me so closely I would be more comfortable,” the unicorn diverted. “I thought you wanted that,” Applejack commented with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, you led him on pretty good.” “I suppose I did. Whatever came over me?” she wondered innocently. “Besides that, those two pegasi seem to have forgotten how to take care of themselves. I did what I could to straighten them out.” “You mean Fluttershy and that weird one?” Applejack clarified. “I’m sure you have Dusk trussed up like a truffle, but do you know anything about her?” “The accident has done some strange things to her. It’s a shame, she seems to be an interesting enough pony. From the look of her, you might assume she didn’t have much of a heart, but you could be surprised,” Rarity rambled purposefully. “I don’t want to know too much, though; Twilight’s recent work was quite distasteful.” Applejack respected her enough not to press the matter further. “How have things been in Canterlot?” “Fine,” Rarity replied tersely. The freckled one had braced for an earful on that topic. “That bad, huh?” The disappointed fashionista nodded ruefully and asked in turn, “How have things been with you?” “Fine,” Applejack said with a gathering scowl. She lit herself a cigarette, then offered one to her friend. “No thank you,” Rarity said, with some effort. “Since when do you smoke?” she asked. “Since when did you quit?” Applejack retorted. “I figured it didn’t matter if I didn’t live too long, since no one really knew me,” the proud unicorn confessed. “But now that I’m among friends again, I feel I ought to look after myself.” “I wouldn’t be too worried about that,” the major commented with a wave to the dim sky. Longevity is not a foremost consideration on the eve of doomsday. “I have hope things will turn out alright,” Rarity professed. “You do?” Applejack understood, with surprise. “Shit,” she grumbled, and tossed her cigarette aside. They stared into the distance together, which would have made more sense on a scenic overlook, but they were busy thinking and not smoking. Dusk sat down on a mossy log while she waited. “Get up,” a soldier ordered gruffly. “What makes you think you get a seat, you Solar imp?” Dusk looked up with annoyance, but a confrontation would clearly be pointless. She moved out of the way as he sat down; she doubted he really wanted the spot. Pink and yellow intervened on her vision. Fluttershy gave the bitter warrior an ill look while protectively guiding the little one away from the scene. “It’s alright,” the kindly pegasus comforted. “Don’t be scared. I won’t let anything happen to you,” she assured, with an affirming pat on the head. “Don’t—“ Dusk objected, but it was too late. They froze and stared at each other wide-eyed. Fluttershy gingerly withdrew her hoof and marveled, “Dusk, you’re special.” “Please don’t tell any pony,” the little alicorn begged in a whisper. “If they knew I was different they would hurt me.” “I won’t let them hurt you,” Fluttershy promised. “Talking to ponies makes me nervous anyway.” Rarity arrived to resume her duties, unaware that anything had changed. “Applejack wants to see you,” she said to Fluttershy. She thought it was a harmless request since Fluttershy wasn’t in the know. Fluttershy exchanged a glance with Dusk before leaving silently. She sat next to Applejack, who asked her, “Fluttershy, did you notice anything strange about Dusk?” “Um, maybe,” she stalled. “She smells like something that died in a forest fire.” “Is there something else?” the major prodded. “N—no,” Fluttershy stuttered. Applejack looked hurt and almost gasped, “Fluttershy, you did not just…” She calmed her voice and pulled the pegasus’s chin up to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry,” the shy pony apologized sincerely. “I just don’t want to talk about it.” “You too?” the major accused. “You’re with them on this?” “It’s not like that,” Fluttershy defended. “That’s it,” Applejack declared. “No more lies. She spills, now.” With that she stormed away down the trail on an uninterruptable course. Fluttershy called, “Wait! Don’t hurt her,” and began to follow. Twilight took notice and started to move after them. Rainbow Dash put Pinkie Pie on hold. Rarity again moved to greet her country friend. Applejack griped, “Not this time,” and shouldered past her. She stood over Dusk and demanded, “Who are you?” Dusk was silent. The major pulled out her revolver and repeated, “WHO ARE YOU?!” Captain Dash jumped in front of Celestia to shield her from the major’s wrath. Twilight and Rarity caught up and stood on either side of the alicorn entrusted to their protection. Fluttershy moved in front of Rainbow Dash, unwilling to see her friends harm each other. Pinkie Pie flung herself dramatically between Fluttershy and Applejack. Her serious face melted to a playful smile. Nose to nose, she asked her friend, “What are we doing?” “Get outta the way, Pinkie Pie,” Applejack dismissed her impertinent comrade. Pinkie Pie shrugged and stepped aside. “Okay, it just looked like fun.” “Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” Rarity urged. “Please trust us.” “Trust you?” replied Applejack, exasperated. “Why don’t you trust me? What are you afraid I’ll do if I know the truth? Don’t any of you believe I’ll do the right thing?” She scanned their faces, and the answer was clear. “I’m sorry,” Fluttershy whispered, but held her ground. Big Mac loomed on the scene to back up his little sister. Several soldiers drew their weapons and surrounded the insubordinate prisoners. Applejack was unsure before, but her suspicions had been confirmed already. “That has to be it,” she declared, and cocked her pistol. “There’s nothing else it could be.” The four stood steady in front of the lethal threat. “I don’t have to use this,” she pointed out, waving her gun. “I can just say it. It’s the same thing.” The rifles at her call were ready. “How can I forgive myself if I can kill Celestia, and I don’t?” she thought. “Please,” Rarity begged. “THAT’S your hope?!” Applejack burst out incredulously, and spat on the ground. The gun rattled in her shaking hoof and she gritted her teeth. A soldier jogged onto the scene and reported “Major, we’ve found a way around—“ before he saw the standoff. The major holstered her weapon and announced to her doubting friends, “I didn’t do it. It’s not mine to do.” She raised her voice and addressed her enemy through the wall of pony-shields, “If I were you, I wouldn’t want to go to Luna. Let’s hurry up then.” Celestia shuddered. The column moved forwards again. Applejack understood her friends, but distanced herself nonetheless. She walked with heavy steps and a grim bearing. Pinkie Pie was still confused. She caught up and asked, “What’s up? Why are you so down?” Disgusted with herself, Applejack replied, “Spare me the devil, the world’s on my head.” Universal SoldierChapter 28 Applejack still stood aloof from the others, marching impatiently at the head of the column as if to pull the others along. She didn’t want to talk to her friends, mostly because she knew they were right. She would have shot Celestia had they not intervened. The real problem was that they might expect her to be sorry about it. In truth, she was proud to be the kind of pony that she would be carried away by her convictions; far better that than passivity. She wasn’t one to allow the innocent to be unprotected or the bad guy unpunished. When Rarity and Fluttershy had not joined the good fight, she had dismissed them as passive and indifferent, but now she realized that was not fair to them. Having been in the wars, she knew the real horror of equicide that defied political justification. Of course it was justified; the cruel and deceptive goddess Celestia could not be allowed to rule Equestria unchallenged. In any case, Applejack knew, it was good that she didn’t kill the little impostor. She was still faced with the hopeless dilemma that plagued the New Lunar Republic. While the Empress lived, she would not allow them peace; if she died, they would see no sun. She had almost cemented the impending period of darkness, famine, and cold apocalypse. Most unsettling, she thought, was the fact that their arch enemy had come into their power willingly. Could it be a trick to get at Luna? Not likely. The great and powerful Celestia would not degrade herself to such a state on purpose. The Solar forces seemed to be out of her control, and would they not be more victorious with their alicorn champion to lead them? So of all things, Celestia had come to them for help, and they would be compelled to give it to her. It was just so wrong… “Applejack!” Pinkie Pie yelled as she galloped to catch up. Applejack had already been accosted by her enthusiastic comrade. Once it was to convince her to go talk to the others, and once to tell her a joke. It was a really awful time to tell a joke, but it was damn hilarious. “What is it this time?” she asked, unsurprised to find wide eyes in her face. “Tail twitch twitch, ears flap!” Pinkie Pie blurted with alarm. “You mean falling, and—“ Applejack quickly attempted to grasp the message. “EXPLODING!” cried the alarm pony. There was a sound like a distant thunderstorm. Major Applejack called, “GET DOWN!” and dove to take cover beside the path. The Rough Riders immediately did the same, leading the uninitiated to follow their example a couple seconds late. An explosion shredded the forest by the path where they would have been. Two more impacts sounded nearby to the south. The soldiers hunkered, wondering whether they should react and how. Hearing the destruction continue to move away, Applejack stood and barked, “Some pony get a look over these trees! We need to see what’s going on.” One of their company dropped his gear and clambered into the lower branches of a tree. “I see a ship,” he reported. “Lunar, and heading south by southwest.” “Shit, we’re being shelled by our own fleet?” someone responded in consternation. Applejack ran to the spotter and said, “I don’t think they’re shooting at us. Do you see anything else?” “No, the canopy’s too—wait, I see another light!” he exclaimed. “There is a second ship, I think it’s in direct pursuit.” “Big Mac, follow me with that rocket launcher,” Applejack said gesturing urgently down the path. “If we hurry we can cut ‘em off.” “Wait, major, what are you gonna do with one rocket launcher?” someone objected. “Who cares? That ship needs help,” she snapped, and galloped away with her big brother in arms. Looking up, she saw the first vessel crossing over the path and leaving a trail of smoke. The dark shape glided by, like a whale swimming through the sky. It was rapidly changing altitude and bearing to thwart the aim of the pursuing ship’s guns. They raced ahead; if they could reach the spot where the Lunar destroyer had crossed, the hostile ship would probably pass over them. They came to a place where the canopy was thinner and Applejack looked about, unsure of her estimation. “What took you so long?” a voice questioned from beside the path. The Apples blinked in surprise at another missile team. “You’re in the right place, now set up fast,” an officer exhorted. Big Mac unslung the launcher and his sister fed a rocket into the cylinder. They waited. A hum slowly rose as the blasts from the muzzles of the guns became louder than the detonating shells. The prow jutted out from the trees, black against the gray sky. The full form of the hull slid into view. The emblem of the blazing sun gleamed triumphantly on its side as it surged forth to claim its prey. The engines also glowed on its ventral surface, showing clear targets to the fighters below. “Wait, wait,” the officer restrained Big Mac. A red flare from somewhere in the forest bounced impotently off the steel hull. “Now!” he barked. Big Mac took careful aim at the closest engine; he and the other soldier let their missiles loose. The projectiles kicked out of the launchers with a distinctive thud. As they flew up, they joined a hail of weaponry rising from the wilderness. The Solar destroyer had been lured into the trap of the regrouped NLR Army. The thick hull was impervious, but warheads entered two of the six engine shafts, stalling the craft in the line of fire. The captain reacted quickly, directing his crew to list violently to the side to escape. Machine gun positions on board came to life, desperately raking the dark foliage. The ship dropped some of its bombs like a startled creature; the ordinance fell haphazardly and killed few. The Lunar army reloaded quickly, and a fresh volley bit into the behemoth before it could pull away. Tons of metal found itself suddenly unsupported in the air, and plummeted earthward. The remaining engines pushed to full power to slow the descent, but it was not enough and the craft slammed violently into the jungle. The ship crashed across the trail between the army and the Rough Riders. Its front sections were crumpled, and the gases in the aft sections burned furiously. Lunar troops cheered, and rushed to surround the hulk. Doctor Sparkle and particularly Captain Dash were downcast at the ambush of their countrymen. The Rough Riders whooped and hollered around them. Rainbow Dash leaned in to Twilight and whispered, “You know what’s about to happen. We have to do something.” “I don’t think they’ll let us go, we’re still prisoners,” the unicorn cautioned. Dash checked the wind with her tail and responded, “We’ll have an opening, but I’ll need my wings and you’ll need your horn.” “Rarity!” Twilight yelled over the shouts of the troops. The fashionable unicorn started to move towards them before they were all hit with an obscuring onrush of dust and smoke from the crash. In the dark forest, smoke reduced visibility to near zero. Somepony approached the Solar guests. “Let us loose and we can save a lot of lives,” Rainbow Dash requested to the figure she hoped was Rarity. Their bonds could be removed much faster by magic than by hoof. “I don’t know which side you’re on,” Rarity objected, afraid of what her friends might do. Celestia appeared from the haze; risking the use of her magic, she untied Rainbow Dash and uncapped Twilight in a moment. “Go!” she urged. Rainbow Dash picked up the rope in her teeth and the two rushed in the direction of the wreck, trying to avoid recognition by the soldiers they bumped into. Dash ran across Pinkie Pie, and thinking quickly, swiped the blue ribbon that showed her Lunar allegiance. The surprised earth pony called after the thief, “Hey, gimme that!” and chased after her. Twilight pushed the smoke around them, allowing her glowing horn to guide them down the path. The three of them galloped together until they encountered a metal mass. The ship was rolled onto its starboard side, blocking most of the escape hatches near the three rescuers. “They need you on the other side,” Dash guessed, speaking to Twilight. As the magician left the smoke closed around the others. “What are you doing?!” Pinkie Pie demanded. “You’re keeping me alive,” Captain Dash insisted, thrusting one end of the rope towards her. “Hold this.” The pegasus beat her wings and disappeared upwards. Pinkie Pie was left standing by the big wreck, confused and blinded. Then there was a firm pull on the rope from somewhere above, and a voice, “Climb aboard!” “I’ve got a bad feeling about this!” Pinkie warned. “That’s why I need you,” Dash answered. “Morsa muffins, right?” Pinkie Pie repeated the phrase and quickly shimmied up the rope to wherever it would lead. She finally cleared the smoke and found Dash helping her over the railing onto the top deck of the defunct airship. She could feel the heat of the flames that engulfed one end of the ship. The pegasus tugged her up the steep, slick slope to a hatch that led into the burning structure. They entered a slanted world, lit with dim red emergency lights. They walked upright on the corner of the floor and walls. “I’ve got to get to the bridge,” Dash informed. A hallway on their left was a hazardous pit. They leapt the gap and continued. Desperate crewponies swung down into the hallway ahead of them. Dash instructed, “There’s a rope off the rail, middeck,” as they shoved past. They jumped another side hall and climbed over a bloody pony that had been killed in the impact. Repeated, frantic clangs came from a sealed hatch on the wall under them. Dash tried to turn the handle, but the blood made her hooves slip. She got a better grip and Pinkie Pie joined in, and together they forced the stubborn hatch open. They hoisted up two Solar sailors, one injured. “There’s a rope off the rail, middeck.” As they entered the next section, the hall ended in a T. It seemed easier to navigate downwards into the corridor to the left, and Dash was about to proceed when Pinkie caught her and alerted, “Bad, very bad!” “You’ll have to climb then,” Dash concluded and flew up and to the right. Pinkie Pie used pipes to clamber up part of the way before she ran out of hoofholds. The rainbow warrior assisted her up to the next doorway, where they descended a set of stairs, which provided the closest thing to level ground. They finally entered the command, where part of the ceiling was collapsed. Aside from two bodies that lay motionless, the bridge crew had evacuated. Dash began to search about before she was interrupted by a heavy groan from under some of the debris. The two rescuers pried a heavy steel girder off of a gentlecolt who turned out to be the captain of the ship. His bloody bearded face showed not relief but anger; he rose to his feet and fumed, “Where are my officers? Did I say to abandon ship? Damn clopspitting cowards!” He stumbled to the intercom and barked, “Damage control, stop that fire! Gunners, fire at will! Marines to the hatches! Damage control, copy?” He waited, but received no reply; the system was dead. “Damn it!” he cursed, slamming the receiver. Pinkie Pie propped up one of the bodies and pronounced, “This one’s alive.” The crewpony had a broken leg, and fighting through a concussion, gasped, “Vents! Did we vent the gases in the main chamber?” Dash thought she would recognize the event, and replied, “I don’t think so.” The captain of the airship ordered Pinkie Pie and the wounded officer, “Open the tanks, then we’ll stand as good a chance as not of stopping that fire.” The Lunar engineer was entirely skeptical of commands from enemy officers, and turned to Dash for confirmation. Dash nodded, and Pinkie took her charge by the shoulder and helped him out of the room towards the auxiliary buoyancy controls. “Soldier,” the captain addressed the Solar Scout, and exhorted, “Rally as much of the crew as you can back to their battle stations and defend the hatches. We’re not flying but we’re still a fortress!” Dash objected, “It’s not a fortress, it’s a funeral pyre.” “My goddess!” the zealous officer exclaimed indignantly. “Do you have no faith in Celestia’s protection?” “I am Celestia’s protection,” Rainbow Dash thought to herself very literally, and lied, “I have to recover secret intelligence information.” The captain considered the statement, and concluded, “Very well, I’ll fight those soulless nightsiders myself!” He stormed out of the room to find a means of vengeance. Dash continued her search for her real objective. She located the proper panel under one of the consoles and pried it loose to reveal a collision-resistant metal box bolted onto the internal structure. There was an emergency wrench on the side of the compartment. She took it and set about freeing the encased instrument. She heard a bursting sound and a great rushing hiss, and knew her friend had succeeded. As she worked on the last bolt, Pinkie Pie reappeared with the limping Solar sailor. “Got it,” Dash said, finally extricating the black case. “Let’s get out of here.” Just then a distressed yell echoed from somewhere on the starboard side—away from any exit. She put down her precious cargo and was about to seek out the stranded soul, but Pinkie Pie began to shiver and sneeze. The extrasensory pony spewed, “Fire, FIRE! Melting flesh!” “Sorry comrade,” Dash muttered as she picked up the heavy instrument and moved for the exit. Applejack and Big Macintosh followed the Lunar Army troops to the crash site. The soldiers cautiously took cover and trained small arms on every exit from the vessel. After a tense moment’s wait, the lower port hatches flung open. Figures of ponies poured out of the black holes into the haze, rushing towards the waiting guns with clamor and shouts. “Halt, don’t come any closer,” a soldier threatened, lining up on the closest shapes and preparing to defend himself. A Solar marine, clutching his rifle, stumbled out of the hatch and away from the wreck; suddenly confronted with enemies, he fired a shot. Four of the surrounding troops let loose a reply at the muzzle flash, dropping the marine. Sensing they were under attack, some sailors drew pistols and one began firing haphazardly in an attempt to stave off the assault. A company of troops reacted, spewing lead into the hostile mass to suppress all resistance. There were five, ten seconds of solid gunfire. Applejack winced at the palpable overkill as those with larger clips and tighter nerves continued to fire shot after shot at any hint of movement. The shooting had hardly started in earnest when something else began to happen. The haze took on a pinkish tint, and Applejack stared in disbelief as bullets began to bounce out of it. A fresh gust of wind blew the port side clear and revealed Twilight, standing in the midst of the crew, protecting them with her magic. The frightened, battered ponies fleeing the downed craft were very different from the banzai charge of fanatical sun worshipers that some imagined to be coming at them. “Stop shooting!” Twilight pleaded at the top of her lungs, “We surrender!” Perceiving a disadvantage in the face of a powerful Solar magician, an officer ordered a bazooka to the scene, but Applejack intercepted the colt who carried it and prevented him from bringing it to bear. “I’m going to drop this spell now, so for Equestria’s sake don’t shoot!” Twilight called out. She dropped the barrier and turned her energy to assisting the wounded up the slanted floor and down out of the hull. Applejack stepped out of the firing line towards her enemy friend, sputtering, “What in the blue blazes?” “Would it kill you to let these ponies get farther away from this big bomb?” Twilight griped urgently. Applejack and Big Mac each escorted a naval pony back through the Lunar line, and others followed their example. It looked as if the evacuation might continue smoothly. Suddenly a face popped out of a point-defense position halfway up the hull; it oozed red hatred across its beard and shouted fiery wrath. The captain of the ship took hold of a large-caliber machine gun and swung it around to face his foes. “Death to nightsiders and deserters!” he cried as he pointed it into the intermingled troops and crew and squeezed the firing handles. Those below took cover, and the last stragglers were compelled to remain in the ship for shelter. Riflemen fired up at everyone’s antagonist. He was hit, but continued firing; his weapon jerked up wildly as he struggled to stand until the last. Under some fresh impulse, ponies jumped out of the hatch into danger. Finally Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie emerged, and Dash shouted, “It’s gonna blow!” A massive secondary explosion burst out of the hull under the captain, who was swallowed by fire and twisted metal. Pinkie Pie shoved Twilight to one side and pulled Dash in close just before a huge piece of steel plating fell over them. Flaming debris rained across the scene. Applejack raced through the resulting wreckage, heedless of the fire. “Where did you all come from?! Don’t you be dead, don’tcha even do that to me!” she cried as she threw her weight against the steel that crushed them. It wouldn’t budge, and she slumped against it despondently. The fire was closing in as the ship bled burning oil out of its new wound. She coughed and the heat rose, but she would not leave them. Big Macintosh rushed to her side, but he could not move the rubble either. Then above the shouts and the roar of the fire came a deep, reverberating voice that seemed to surround them. “Good work, my brave soldiers,” the presence uttered. It was steady and cool, and exhorted, “As long as we have strength, we will fight. And we are still strong.” Flanked by her continuous escort of magicians, Luna strode through her army towards the wreck. She walked the length of the airship with a surge of magic passing before her. She banished the flames from her presence. At her approach, the debris lifted and obediently gathered itself in piles behind her. “Medics, tend to their wounded once ours are stable,” she ordered. The way clear, Lunar troops again approached the hulk and aided those caught in the second blast. The approach of the war Princess uncovered Twilight, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie. Pinkie Pie had used her uncanny sense to position them where they would be mostly unhurt by the falling mass. She coughed singed confetti and squeaked lamely, “Ta-daa!” “You three scared the damn bejeebies outa me!” Applejack exclaimed, relieved. “What on earth are you doing here?” she asked Pinkie Pie. “We did good, didn’t we?” the pink one replied with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, you’re a hero,” the major congratulated. “Apparently you’re also a Solar.” Luna drew near, and started to greet them, “Applejack, Pinkie Pie! I am glad that you made it—“ she froze at the sight of Doctor Sparkle and Captain Dash. She had planned the ambush, but could not contain her surprise at meeting these two. Her guards recognized the high-level threats and bristled defensively. “It’s alright, they’re with me,” Applejack informed. “Really?” Luna asked, surprised once again. “I’m glad you made it, ma’am,” Applejack said, noting her leader’s bandaged wing. The Princess glimpsed at her side, stretching out her healthy wing and giving a slight huff. She had been shot, but she was trying to put it behind her. Rainbow Dash understood the frustration of being grounded; it was like an earth pony being hoof-cuffed. However, she had more important things to do than commiserate. The Solar Scout stepped forward with the black box from the destroyer, her prize from a successful mission, and reported to her acting superior, “Princess, this is the ship’s transmitter. As far as Imperial Command is concerned, this is H.M.S. Wrathstar. If you keep it moving, they won’t even know the ship went down, assuming you were jamming their radio.” Luna adjusted quickly to the situation, and replied, “Excellent. I do not know what has brought this about, but you have gained my trust. Corporal,” she said to a nearby officer, “see to it that this transmitter is flown southeast at twenty knots.” “That’s not the only thing they are tracking,” Twilight confessed. “They can follow dragon-streams to…” she hesitated, “one of us.” The statement was laced with implications. Luna grasped the portent immediately, and asked, “Who are they tracking?” “A pony I’ve brought to see you,” Twilight replied cautiously. “That’s why I came.” The Princess was puzzled, and asked again, “Can you explain all this quickly?” “Dusk” was still a ways away, and besides, Twilight doubted very much the situation could be approached quickly and casually. “No.” “We must move,” Luna alerted, “I will speak with Applejack on the way back to camp. You will meet me there.” She turned and instructed one of her magicians, “Sidayana, you know how to confuse such communication. Follow Doctor Sparkle to the subject and ensure the pony is disconnected.” Those near her tucked their ears as Luna bellowed over the stale battlefield, “Get ready to return to camp, we leave at thirteen hundred hours!” She moved on to coordinate the move and deal with the matter of prisoners. “Wow, Dash, I thought you were still a Solar,” Applejack commented. “I am, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t on the same side,” Captain Dash professed. Applejack could only blink in consternation at that remark. Dreams and VeilsChapter 30 Celestia awoke with a start from strange dreams. She tried to go back to sleep, but could not fight her restless mind. The four friends that slept around her did so soundly and placidly. She rose quietly and walked to the door of the tent, where she anticipated the customary rifle-barrel to the face. Strangely, the guards were not there. She advanced cautiously into the “road” between rows of camouflaged tents. There was no challenge, nor even a stir. Perhaps she was still dreaming. In her tyrant days she had been wary of her nighttime thoughts, as Luna could, with limitations, shape the dreams of others. She had learned to perform a dissolution spell in her sleep and cast out illusions. She tried it now, but nothing happened. A chill breeze swept through the camp. The discomfort hardly bothered her; she wasn’t here to relax. She seemed to remember looking for something in her actual dreams. “I shouldn’t expect to find it now, but since I’m already out here,” she figured, and trotted through the camp. She looked alertly down the green canvas isles for anything that might move in the moonlight. Were there no soldiers on watch that night? At last another being intruded on her lonely walk. The face of the pony was shaded by a hat—seeing the particular hat, she recognized Applejack as the earth pony approached. “Major,” the little alicorn acknowledged. “Celestia,” Applejack addressed squarely. “You have trouble sleeping too?” Celestia attempted to relate. “Actually I wanted to have a real talk with you,” came the major’s unexpected reply. “But not out here, you’ll catch a cold. It’s like a damn early winter.” She led the way back to her tent and ushered the duskling inside. With the flap closed there was some relief. The tent was divided into sections, and conveniently there were no other occupants in this section, nor could snores be heard from the rest of the enclosure. The dispossessed ruler sat on a blanket, but did not pull it around herself. She didn’t want to pretend she was more welcome than she was. The major did not sit or relax her demeanor. She forced eye contact with Celestia; she tried to look normal but could not really hide the truth-stare. “What happened to you?” she questioned. Celestia was not comfortable with the situation, but she could see the value of getting Applejack to understand, so she narrated, “Something began to haunt me in the palace. At first I thought it was Luna, but it wasn’t. Then I thought it was just me, but I started to think things I wouldn’t; I started to feel guilty. Then I was overcome by whatever it was. It was ancient,” the old alicorn attested. “I was young and it was ancient. It took the sun away from me and boiled me down to this,” she indicated her own feeble body. “I burn. I’m dying and I burn in sunlight. Do you know what that’s like? What am I without sunlight?” “How different are you?” the major inquired. The false pegasus had wondered just that for quite some time. “I’m not the same, but I’m not as different as I would like to be. Whatever it was showed me how horrible I was, and made me realize there are some good things, things worth not being that way for.” “Why wouldn’t you get that from Luna?” Applejack asked perceptively. “From what she told me, she really tried to help you. After the Elements, she endured you for the longest time, patiently tryin’ to show you how she’d changed, and tryin’ to make you want to. Why didn’t you listen to her?” “Why not?” returned the once-great Empress. “Because I knew better. She was my inferior and she must have still been jealous—that’s what I thought. I don’t think I was capable of hearing what she was trying to say.” “What do you think Luna should do with you?” came the next question. “She has to help me raise the sun,” Celestia replied simply. Applejack skeptically enquired, “How’s she supposed to do that?” “If I’m restored I can do it,” Celestia explained. “Twilight tried to help, but she used dark magic and brought back the monster I was, and it was killing me. She said that was the only way, but I consulted an artifact, a book. It showed me a place in the mountains; there was a ruined city in front of three peaks and in the middle mountain was a cave. It’s a special cave or something. If we raise the sun to shine into it, I can be restored for real.” Applejack asked again, working for a real answer, “What would she do with you if there was another way to raise the sun?” The smoky prisoner shifted nervously, and replied, “I’m scared of what she’ll do as it is. It’s just good for me there isn’t. I know it’s not fair.” “Do you really regret what you did?” the major delved necessarily. “Yes,” Celestia answered sincerely. “Yes I do. I ruined everything I touched, and I touched everything. My regret doesn’t help anyone, though, unless I really can save the world.” “Because you got caught or because it was bad?” the major probed. “Do you even know what bad is?” “Because I’m so bad and I hurt so many ponies,” she attested, “but I don’t know what bad is. The only thing I can think of for sure is me. I don’t know what makes something bad, but I know what I’ve done is horrible. I’m pretty fubar.” “What part bothers you the most?” Applejack wondered. Celestia had to think about that one, rejecting options as they came. “I guess I should say something about one of the cities I destroyed, or about the ponies I oppressed and fucked with their minds for thousands of years—shit, maybe what I did to the cows—but that’s not really it. The part that affects me the worst is everything I did to make my sister hate me. I’ll be alone forever now.” Applejack scraped her hoof on the ground tentatively. “What part bothers you the most?” she repeated. “Why are you asking me this?” the storied alicorn reacted. She had hoped the questions would not cut so deep. She sighed and answered straight, “Really, it’s what I did with my own hooves. The ponies I kidnapped—the fillies, because it’s most like what… Because it was so personal. I can’t forget them. Some of them no pony remembers, but I can see their faces.” “Why?” came that ultimate question. “Why did you do all this?” Celestia answered offhand, “It was all selfish, of course. I did whatever would make me happy. I wanted every pony to love me, but they didn’t really and I guess I hated them for it. I couldn’t risk anyone becoming more powerful than me again. The reason I…” she stopped herself. “I can’t just tell you my reasons for doing some of those things. You wouldn’t understand.” Applejack let it slide and continued, “What motivates you now?” “I just want to live,” the ailing pony expressed. “Is that too much? It probably is.” A practical crux of the investigation was this: “What do you want to do if you get your powers back?” “I want to bathe in sunlight and warm the world again,” Celestia answered idyllically. “I’d stop all the shit I started and make there finally be peace.” Applejack pawed the floor with her hoof. “I’m not sayin’ it’s a lie, but what’s wrong with your answer?” Celestia was stuck. It could damage her mission to say what she was thinking. Now that she was in a corner, though, the worst thing she could do would be to refuse a reply. She reluctantly divulged, “That’s what I want to be true, but I don’t trust me. At first I pretended to be a different pony, but I found out I’m not. I’m still manipulative and I have the same feelings and fears that made me do so much shit. I don’t want to be that way anymore, but I don’t know what I’d do.” “Were you always this way or did something happen to you?” the good pony investigated. “I don’t know. I guess I always had that side of myself, but I didn’t let it out all the time. I had another side too. But then…” Celestia ran into the same emotional barrier again. “Look, all the history books let this go silent. Is this really important?” “I think you’ve been hiding it enough,” Applejack insisted. “It doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.” Celestia started to speak, but nothing came. There was another false start as she fought with her own compartmentalization. At last she disclosed, “The first time Discord came, he was looking for something precious to steal that would throw off the order of things. He saw me, and I was young and… he took me. All of me. He… I…” she bit her lip and began to sob. “If you try to get anything more specific I’m leaving.” Applejack nodded, but left the question open, sensing that there was more that Celestia had to say. “The unicorn sages rescued me, but I don’t know if they beat him or he let me go. The last thing he said was…” Celestia moaned at the recollection. Then came a smile, the kind that comes when no expression can show the hurt. “I made you better!” she repeated, before covering her mouth, appalled at the sound. She sobbed a moment longer. Gradually she quieted. Regaining a certain detachment, she analyzed, “After that, the bad part of me was worse and the rest was broken. Now I don’t have two parts, just a pile of pieces. Only some of the bad pieces are still under there somewhere.” “I’ve gotta ask,” said one big sister to another. “I love Applebloom, and I wouldn’t ever let nothin’ hurt her. Did you ever really care about your sister?” Celestia wiped the tears from her black eyes—shit, and got ash in them—and stared wistfully into space. “A long time ago, I thought I loved my little Luna. I didn’t know what love was though. I still don’t. I respect her, I admire her, but I don’t think she’ll ever let me love her.” “What made Luna the way she used to be?” Applejack prompted. “That’s between me and Luna,” Celestia reacted defensively. Her sister’s secrets were not for her to reveal, nor was she eager to open up that one of her own. “I don’t know if she would have been like that anyway, but it’s between me and her. I guess that’s your answer.” Applejack started to ask, “How much—“ but stopped. She knew she no longer belonged in the conversation. “Uh, I think it’s time for me to go.” With that she excused herself, slipping through the tent flap, closing it behind her, and hastily trotting away. At last Celestia understood the nature of her appointment. Her heart quickened, but she remained and silently waited for the question. The dividing curtain of the tent loosed itself from the ceiling and collapsed. Luna sat where she had throughout the interview, pondering the fate of the one called Dusk, probing the heart she loathed and feared, sifting through signs of despair and hope. Her imposing presence filled up the space that her large form did not. Luna broke the heavy silence with heavier words. “How much does it hurt to be your sister?” “Maybe like it hurts to be me,” Celestia answered. Luna turned and looked at her intensely. “You are wrong. Do you not remember, while I wept, you laughed. You were happy.” The little alicorn was afraid to look Luna in the eye but did not dare turn away. “I was fake. But, then again, sometimes I was happy. I guess that’s the sickest part, isn’t it? I won’t say I had inner peace or anything, but I did have fun. I never had to deal with the pain, I always made it go away, or gave it away. I was proud of that. I thought that everyone was playing a cruel game, and I was winning.” “Now I do feel it,” Dusk exposed. “Some things don’t go away in a thousand years.” “A long time,” she thought, cursing privately, “I should have said a long time.” The stars in Luna’s mane dimmed for a painful second. The night Princess, with fresh understanding of her own betrayer, related, “With Discord—I knew when it happened, but I did not know it was like that. If you had told me, before you became the same thing, I would have been sorry for you. I could have helped you.” “You wouldn’t have,” the older sister spoke boldly. “You were too much like me, remember?” With renewed regret, she was heedless of the consequences as she revealed, “Anyway, I did tell you. I couldn’t say it with words, so I passed the message on the same way I got it.” At that Luna’s gaze sharpened. The ancient pain of violation throbbed in her chest, and summoned the anger she tried to restrain. She felt the snapped threads of an old bond, long put away but now raw. Her muscles tensed, but she resisted the urge to lash out or flee from the shared shame. She gritted her teeth and groaned deeply. For several moments they were palpably speechless and unclean. It was as if it happened yesterday. “We are trapped together,” Luna lamented. “I know sisters, that if they were together forever, it would be a wonderful thing. But we are trapped. I cannot kill you and I cannot forgive you.” “Can you forgive yourself?” Celestia wondered, out of concern for them both. Luna examined herself, as she had before, and once again she was unsatisfied. “I do not know if I am forgiven. When you forgave me, it was not real, and your forgiveness is not what I needed. The darkest part of me was killed, and now the six Elements press down on me and hold me away from what I used to do. I cannot be the same, but forgiven? I trust Harmony. It did not make me happy, but it fixed me.” The royal inquisitor requested finally, “Now tell me the truth, this thing that has overcome you—did it fix you? Do you trust it?” “I’m different, but not really fixed,” Celestia replied honestly. “It made me want to be fixed, but it didn’t fix me. It knows how bad I am, that I should die. But it didn’t fix me and it didn’t kill me, so I don’t really trust it.” Then she thought of the book, and something it would make her do. “It’s like the book; I don’t trust it but I believe it.” “Then for Equestria, we must go to the mountain ruins,” the Premier declared. “I know the city, and I never forgot where it lies in the wilderness.” “I don’t deserve any favors,” Celestia admitted, before she begged of Luna, “For everyone, for yourself, promise me one thing. If it works—if I’m restored, but I’m not different, you have to stop me. You can’t kill me, but we both know there are worse things. You can’t give me any warning; you’ve got to pretend you think I’m better, until you can stop me.” “I am burdened with many promises already, but this one is not new,” the warrior Princess agreed solemnly. Celestia’s confused heart beat faster as she was conscious of something between them. It was the closeness of experiencing the pain of the past together. She had to know if her sister felt it too. She was compelled to speak, but only managed, “I…” Luna’s gaze was fixed intensely on her mouth as she struggled to complete the thought, as if the slight movement of those lips was threatening. Celestia met her sister’s eyes, seeking to communicate that way instead. A solitary tear was the only answer she would receive. The glistening droplet burst into a fine mist that spread toward her. “Wait!” she called, but it came out as a whisper. The vapors rushed around the gray one and swept her away—to sleep. RemnantsChapter 31 Celestia groaned and forced her eyes open. She was wrapped in wool, and brisk air rushed across her face and foreleg. For a moment her body seemed immobile, though she was aware of a swaying sensation. Something was flapping in the wind. Her groggy mind wondered if the tent had collapsed. Coming to herself, she overcame the tranquilized stiffness and pushed herself up partly, leaning against a wooden panel. A foot from her face the floor dropped off, and a spreading, shadowy landscape rushed out from under its edge. The sky was full of movement, and she understood her situation. She was being transported as part of a flying convoy, with several sky carriages and a detachment of pegasi. She was not alone; a green unicorn sat next to her, straight and stoic. The magician’s muted golden mane and tail flowed behind her as she stared meaningfully into the distance. Celestia considered her own scruffy mane, simply too short to ride the air dramatically. “I shouldn’t even need wind,” she thought, watching the undulating sample next to her. “Oh, great,” she scoffed privately, “Am I really going to have mane envy right now?” She stood up to look around. She scanned the small formation and soon spotted something of real interest ahead. Luna sat with her back turned in one of the leading vehicles. The feelings from the night before rushed to Celestia. If she had enough power in her magic to teleport or in her wings to fly, she would have rushed as quickly to her sister’s side. “Sidayana, take me to the Princess,” she requested eagerly. “She does not wish to be with you,” her chaperone disagreed without deigning to look at her. “You don’t understand, I think she came to me in a dream,” the duskling pleaded. Sidayana countered thoughtfully, “You may dream of another, though the one you desire will not come to you.” She breathed very deeply and for a moment her face flushed with emotion. Celestia glanced between Luna and her magician. She realized the two might be as closely associated as she was with Twilight—perhaps closer without deception in the relationship. “Did you dream about Luna too?” Sidayana’s wistful thoughts were broken and she turned to the questioner with annoyance. “Not Luna,” she denied. “I did speak with her, and she does not wish to be with you. I do not wish to be with you, but she commanded it.” Reminding herself of her duty, she became alert to her surroundings. “She trusted me again. I do not know that I deserve it; last time I failed, and all was lost.” “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” the alicorn consoled, though she did not really know. Sidayana looked at her sharply and returned, “I suppose it is not.” “Of course, right, everything is my fault,” Celestia sighed. They were silent for a while. Celestia reconsidered the night in light of her present circumstances. While still in a stupor she had been taken on an urgent errand; it must be to the ancient city that Luna somehow knew of. So it was not a dream. That made more sense, as a conjured vision of Applejack wouldn’t be able to use the real pony’s truth stare. She shifted uncomfortably. “Who were you dreaming about?” she redirected. “Halifax,” the magician stated sorrowfully, “I wish to be with Halifax.” “If we succeed, I’ll make sure this is all over, and then you can find him,” Celestia offered hopefully. “I doubt that,” Sidayana said. “He is dead.” She bowed with grief. “When we failed, he saved me, and now he is dead.” The old ruler understood that this was yet another thing that she would never be able to fix. Suddenly Sidayana’s head snapped up, and, despising her tears, she gazed urgently into the eastern sky. A ribbon of green energy intruded on their view and pursued the carriage. The magician quickly cast a spell on Celestia that cast a piece of her aura out. The gray pony was startled by the feeling that coursed through her, and coughed. The dragonstream followed the magician’s decoy to the northwest and out of sight. Once Celestia’s lungs were bothered she could not help but cough a few more times, painfully expelling the ash that flaked off of her inner tissues. Once the green unicorn was certain she had succeeded, she observed the state of her charge, and commented, “That should not have hurt you. You must indeed be ill.” She signaled another vehicle, and pegasi assisted in transferring the group’s medic to theirs. Redheart, M.D., had been brought on the mission mostly for this purpose, and began to examine her patient and write case notes. Doctor Redheart could not arrive at a purely medical diagnosis. Her excellent bedside manner hid her fears as to the dire nature of the problem. Celestia did not need a doctor to tell her that she was slowly dying. The doctor did give her pills that promised to slow the progress of the strange ailment. Perhaps medical help should have been sought earlier. Mountains rose in the horizon ahead of them. Celestia searched their silhouettes, and saw a group of three peaks that mirrored those she saw in her troubling vision in the magical book. Anticipation was building in her, as was the fear of the unknown. Mysterious forces had dominated her existence recently; she could make sense of neither their nature nor their intentions. They had made it clear that she was supposed to die, but they seemed to spare her for the moment. Was she being brought to this place merely to die in the right way? The book seemed to offer hope, but at a price. She wondered if the vast, unchallengeable presence and the conscious artifact were in agreement. She feared that she might meet one of them there, or worse, encounter herself again. She would have to wait longer to find out; Luna’s ride swung down out of the convoy and landed in a clearing. The rest of the group followed her and circled around to hear the purpose of the delay. The Princess demanded loudly, “We are trying to help Empress Celestia regain her powers. Does anypony object to this?!” All were silent, unsure of her attitude and terrified to answer her honestly. She bristled as if under threat as she continued in her royal voice, “We are saving my sister’s life and giving her back a monopoly on the sun’s life-giving energy. Do you find this wrong and disturbing?” Her soldiers and assistants stared at her, mute at the challenge to their loyalty. She gave herself answer, “I know you think I am fearless, but I tell you the thought of being in her power again frightens me more than death.” “We were briefed, and still we have come with you,” Sidayana assured. She inquired, “Why do you address us like this?” The Princess softened her tone and announced regretfully, “I have just been informed that a great number of your comrades have fallen away. Some of the officers expressed that I cannot be trusted with our situation. They say that I have never cared for my citizens, earth ponies, pegasi, or unicorns. Apparently I only care that alicorns continue to dominate you all; I have tricked you, and now rush to the aid of my ally Celestia so that our race can tyrannize this world forever. They, especially the unicorns among them, thrill to the idea that the Solar Empire is now ruled by a unicorn General, and claim that he will bring liberation. Do any of you believe this?” Her face showed the hurt of this lack of faith. “Have I extorted my citizens and treated them ill? Have I led you into death to profit myself? Have I commanded you to fight for your freedom, while I have lounged indifferently? Have I not joined with you in the perils and hardships of war? Have I suffered no wounds with you?” she asked rhetorically, unable to contain her emotion as her one functional wing stirred on her side. “When we were defeated, I could have abandoned you to save myself. I could forever escape into the night and live on the edges of the world—as if I do not care! Have I not fought against Celestia with all of my strength to protect this land? If I had been cruel, and not good, she would have been content for me to rule under her. Do you think that this General, the ruthless enemy we have been fighting, who was raised up by the Empress for his vicious cunning, will be a better master?” “Now we are forced to rely on my sister to save our world. Do you think I wish this? Do you think her presence does not pain me? She has betrayed me for thousands of years—do you think I am one to trust her unduly? I have no choice in this matter. Remember that I once was not as I am. You are hundreds of years too young to remember the terror of Nightmare Moon. It is difficult to believe, but it is possible for her to be changed as I was. Whether or not this comes to pass, I have chosen to prolong the world, instead of killing us all out of rash vengeance. If any of you disagree, and no longer wish to follow me, I beg that you leave me at once.” No one accepted the invitation to go AWOL. Despite their doubts, they were moved by her impassioned speech. They trusted her all the more knowing that she shared their misgivings. Sidayana declared, “I will follow you,” at the same time that Applejack exclaimed, “Luna, you know we’re with ya!” Pinkie Pie piped in, “Ooh, ooh, me too!” Each pony agreed in turn—except Celestia and four of the wonder friends. Twilight and Rarity gave apologetic looks for their silence. Fluttershy didn’t look. Rainbow Dash observed the scene unaffectedly. When expectant eyes turned to them, Dash just said, “What?” The reluctant civilians and the two Solars were not going to pledge their loyalty to Luna, but everyone knew they were on board. “Thank you, all of you,” Luna said, feeling appreciated again. “We are stopped because one of the mutinous officers transmitted the location of Ruhama to our enemies. Solar forces await us there, so we will wait for reinforcements to take the city. For now we camp here.” Prize of a LieChapter 34 A cry split the morning. Rainbow Dash and Applejack jumped to their hooves in readiness. Twilight rolled over and groaned at being rudely awakened. Through squinty eyes she saw Rarity sitting up and staring at her mirror with horror on her face. “What’s wrong?” Applejack asked urgently, ready to help with any emergency. Captain Dash had instinctively drawn her knife, but now she did not see anything to do with it. “It’s too awful!” Rarity wailed. “I have wrinkles.” “Don’t get yourself worked up, you don’t have wrinkles,” Twilight assured her. Looking closer however, the friendly magician’s eyes widened, and she added, “But, uh, if you did have wrinkles, it would be from worrying too much.” “AAAUUGGHH, I knew it, I do have wrinkles!” Rarity cried. Summoning her strength, she peeked again at the terrible vision in the mirror. She saw the white face she loved, but worn and weathered. The bags under her eyes might go away, but the folds on her cheeks were not the kind of thing that would come and go. Applejack scanned her worn-out face and suggested sympathetically, “Dang girl, maybe you SHOULD have a cigarette.” Pinkie Pie, still not comfortable with emotions besides happiness, smiled and fired off this gem: “Friends don’t get wrinkles, they get laugh lines.” “Oh, I’m hideous!” the queen of fabulosity moaned. “I’m getting old and… and frumpy!” Rainbow Dash sighed and put away her blade. “It’s not that bad,” she dismissed. Rarity was appalled. “Not… that… bad?!” she repeated in exasperation. The Solar Scout had meant no harm and shrugged. “Uh, yeah… Most of the officers I really respect have scars or wrinkles. It just means they have more experience.” She turned her head to show off her own scar to all present. “I haven’t even told any of you my scar story yet,” she noted eagerly. “Ooh, tell me, tell me!” piped Pinkie Pie. “I don’t want to be experienced,” Rarity whimpered, “I want to be beautiful.” Through this, two ponies had remained silent. Little Celestia wilted under Fluttershy’s accusing stare. Unable to get a word in without incriminating herself, she turned to meet the pegasus’s killer look. “Yikes, I thought her element was kindness,” she thought, and whispered, “Can you get her to go outside? Let me apologize to her in private.” Fluttershy nodded slightly, and stood up. “I… I have something to say,” she hesitantly announced. The others all looked her way, paying close attention to the uncharacteristic move. “I… you… um,” she mumbled. She gathered her strength and declared, “I think you’re prettier than a hickory tree.” The stares turned to confusion. “And, um, shadows make things look worse. Maybe you should step outside, and, um, see what the natural light says.” “Thank you, Fluttershy. You’re quite right, the lighting is bad for sure.” Rarity collected herself and left with a dignified gait. Twilight flumped back down to reclaim her morning rest. Rainbow Dash regaled the group with a tale of heroic exploits. Pinkie Pie soaked it up eagerly, but Applejack was more skeptical. Celestia slipped out unnoticed. She found Rarity panting with anxiety, as if her life was in the balance. Celestia waited quietly behind her. “This is a good view,” she thought. “Remember, you’re here for your life, not her flank,” she consciously chided. Uncontrolled, “A bonus?” shot through her mind. Rarity took a deep breath, steadied herself, and looked once more into the mirror. She cringed and stifled an “Eeep!” Dusk approached and consoled, “I understand how you feel. It’s okay. It’s nothing we can’t get through.” “How can it be okay when I have wrinkles?!” Rarity demanded. Her expression was lost and hopeless through the signs of age. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Celestia asserted. “Look here,” she said, indicating the cut on her breast. “I’ve had this scar for quite some time, but have you seen it on any broadcasts?” Rarity considered the question and, perplexed, shook her head. With hardly a stir from her horn Celestia replaced the illusion that always covered the blight, and smiled cunningly. “I don’t have a scar.” Concentrating on the unicorn’s distressed skin, she performed a similar spell—a disillusion. “Now you don’t have wrinkles.” Rarity felt her face and snatched up the mirror and greeted her usual good looks with a forceful sigh of relief. Her frown slowly reasserted. “Thank you, I suppose. I’ll know though, it won’t be real.” “That’s something to worry about if the world actually goes on,” Celestia dismissed. The diminutive duskling hung her head and lamented, “If I don’t stop it, I suppose everything beautiful will go away forever,” as if she doubted her chances. Rarity was pried away from her thoughts of herself and looked out to the horizon. “Do you think that’s really true? What a horrible thought.” Celestia followed her view and reconsidered, “On second thought, the trees and the decorations of civilization will wither, but much of what is really beautiful will remain. Gems will still be in the dark of the earth and stars will still reflect off the rolling waves of the ocean.” “I thought beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” the unicorn warily repeated. “Wouldn’t all those things be unfulfilled if there was no one to see them?” Celestia had intended her to grasp that, but only subconsciously. Despite Rarity’s preoccupations, she had a quick wit. “Well shit,” the slippery harbinger reacted flatly. Rarity squinted sideways at her supposed helper. She guessed that Celestia was too intelligent to stumble so on philosophical matters. The old ruler seemed nervous under her scrutiny. The little gray thing bulged her eyes and started to shake. With a sudden realization, Rarity asked, “Are you alright?” “Help,” Celestia whispered between quick, irregular breaths. “Get help.” “Twilight!” Rarity barked at the tent before galloping towards the rest of the camp. Celestia tried to keep herself under control and somehow stop whatever triggered the episode, but it came anyway. It came hard. A flesh-ember started deep inside her and embedded in a lung. She cried aloud to expel the scorching air and smoke, and stumbled forward. She coughed uncontrollably, but began to march forward. Another dried out her intestines as it crossed them. Doctor Sparkle emerged from the tent and ran to her. “What’s wrong? Hold still!” The damned pony continued ahead as if she could leave it behind. More excruciating sparks; her stomach heaved, competing with the coughs, but what came out was a burning lump that stuck to her esophagus. She paused in her stride, faint from lack of breath and in suspense as it threatened to make another opening in her throat. Twilight perceived the phenomenon and fired a bolt of magic from her horn that quenched the unnatural ember. Celestia swallowed to painfully clear her throat so that she could cough some more, and resumed her course. “Stop, don’t,” Twilight ordered incompletely in urgent frustration. The afflicted alicorn stammered through blood-stained lips, “I have to—“ An unbearable jet of heat came up from between her hind legs and caused them to fail as it impacted her spine. She moaned, gritted her teeth, and pulled herself forward on two hooves. One angry coal in her waist caused her to become incontinent before lodging on her flank; Twilight grimaced and extinguished it. Another attack grazed her skull, causing her to finally collapse. Rarity returned with help. As she arrived, Luna cleared out the brush and obstacles from where her stricken sister had wandered. Medic Redheart and her assistants assessed the situation while they let the magicians do what they could. “Prepare the crystalloid solution for fluid therapy,” she ordered. Luna and Twilight took some of the heat out of the condition, but could not stop it until it had run its course. Lying half-consciously in her own blood and feces, Celestia clung to life. Wet towels were draped over her and IVs started as intensive burn treatment began. Rarity watched the scene despite its vulgarity. A Darkfold Star caught her eye. Starved for light, it had run up the trunk of a nearby tree. Now it was shriveled and its leaves were losing their color. The once-stunning bloom was wilted and dangled just beyond the place where Celestia fell. It had dropped most of its pedals, showing a bare brown stalk in the center. Her heart was heavy as she considered the plight of beauty in herself, the Princess, and the magnificent flower. One does not grow younger, but the latter two could possibly be saved. Nothing so fabulous should be allowed to die out, she decided. She would not let it. RuhamaChapter 34 The Everfree Forest thinned as it lapped against the foothills of a mountain range. Under the triple-peak, the ruins of a once-great city spread across the landscape and capped the hills with broken towers. The full moon favored the city with an unfair share of light. It focused further, giving the limestone rubble an ethereal glow. The moonbeam tightened and swept across the scene. The streets were not deserted, but rustled and murmured their disturbance at the rude scrutiny. The pale shaft found its object; it fixed upon a craft that had hung silently and inconspicuously. The airship came to life as it mustered its engines in response. Naval guns boomed from somewhere in the dark sky. Troops in the scattered trees gave a battle cry and rushed to the city’s edge and the staccato of small arms echoed in the rubble. The warship maneuvered rapidly, but could not shake the heavenly spotlight. The bright craft fired toward the muzzle flares of its concealed assailants, for a moment seeming like an avenging angel as the moonlight reflected dangerously on the emblem of the sun. Then it was hit. The airship dropped lower and bled flames as it took two more impacts. Satisfied, the Nightmare Moon shone evenly over the earth once again. The sound of fierce fighting continued in the ruins. A shadowy flock landed behind the lines, doubling the din of combat. A bright flash in the city showed its skyline in silhouette and gave an alien scream that overpowered the frantic noise. As the horrid sound trailed off, cries of panic drowned out shouted orders. Shapes of routed Solar ponies and creatures poured out of the dead city and took their turn to disappear in the night. A grounded sky carriage creaked along an aisle of short grass where no trees grew. It must have been an ancient road that led into the city. Celestia and Redheart, M.D. sat onboard and the six friends, minus the Lunar soldiers, followed behind. The ailing alicorn had recovered the full use of her body but was very weary. The doctor administered another pill with a glass of water and instructed her patient to rest. Celestia could do nothing but hope that the medicine would slow the illness long enough. Twilight trotted close behind the carriage and said, “Excuse me, Doctor Redheart?” The chief medic turned and listened. “I respect your expertise, but will you give her a higher dosage? Whatever happens, she only needs to make it a few more hours, but we need her condition not to interfere until then.” The doctor shook her head, and leaned down to explain in a low tone, “Internal combustion is not a medical condition. I only gave her painkillers.” Twilight exclaimed in a whisper, “What!? That’s almost a placebo. Does Luna know about this?” Doctor Redheart nodded. “I’m treating her as best I can, although—“ she politely stopped herself. “What is it?” Twilight prodded, reaching for anything that could be helpful. “No, I was just thinking,” the doctor dismissed. They stared at each other for a moment and she could tell Twilight’s interest would not fade. “If Celestia was in my hospital—and it was just her on life support, not the sun—I would unplug her and treat one of her victims instead.” “You’re a healer, don’t say that!” Twilight protested. The M.D. shot back, “What would you do, Doctor Sparkle?” Twilight was silent and fell back, contemplating her answer. She didn’t have one. The little gray one put her head back down before her reluctant caretaker saw that she was listening. She did not hear everything, but emotion had made them misjudge their volume. What the good doctor said was right. That’s why Celestia had done what she had—but that only made it more true. Luna and Applejack came out to meet them as they reached the city. “It kills my ears every time you do that,” the major commented to her leader. She spoke loudly to overcome the ringing in her head. “Yes, but much less killing was needed that way,” the warrior Princess responded thoughtfully. Applejack raised her eyebrows and complimented genuinely, “You’re a real wonder.” “In truth, your friends taught me this,” the Princess admitted. Twilight caught back up to hear what was being said. The hollowed forms of the urban landscape cast strange shadows around them. The wagon bounced roughly over loose bricks as it passed by a decaying structure. Celestia raised her head to ask her sister, “What is this place? How do you know it?” “Ruhama,” Luna answered reverently. “This city deserves our respect. The race that built it are they who long ago discovered the Elements of Harmony, and the Elements were kept here, long before Canterlot existed.” Celestia wondered why she was not aware of this. The answer was probably that her vanity would not permit studies of humbling history. Twilight asked, “I thought that was just a myth. How do you know it’s true?” “I know it,” the Princess declared solemnly. She surveyed the rubble with apparent familiarity and sadness, though she had not been there before. Pinkie Pie appeared as they crossed a side street. “Hey, are all you guys headed to that super special magic thing? Can I come?” “If you are finished with your duties,” Luna replied responsibly. The young engineer nodded and darted back to the meeting she had left. She had analyzed the terrain and prepared some recommendations for the defense of the city and the mountain. She arrived where the officers where circled around a map, but to her chagrin it was still not her turn to speak. She looked back to see her friends disappearing around the corner as they moved on through the city. She huffed, and attempted patience. It was not her strong point. “What if they get too far away and I can’t find them, and I miss out on all the cool stuff, and what if they need me?” she worried. More waiting. She panted and began to sweat. Finally a bearded old lieutenant instructed, “Pinkie Pie, give us your report.” She unloaded hastily, “We can use the Solars’ fortifications, except on the northeast spur of the city, which won’t do us any good, anypony in there would get cut off and the guests would see them before we shout ‘surprise’, I mean open fire. We don’t have many mines with us, but we should put what we have on the approach in between these hills here. These towers here and here could be toppled across the street to help protect our flank, but not this one, its foundation is too chubby.” She shifted nervously as she awaited a verdict on her proposals. “Hm,” the lieutenant considered, “someone suggested we put those mines between the city and the mountain.” “Don’t be silly,” she replied spontaneously, and smiled sheepishly as she realized her superior officers might not appreciate the expression. “I mean, if they’re coming in that way, we’re probably already dead.” He nodded. She squirmed about like a little one who needs the potty. He dismissed her with a hoof. “Thankyousir!” she exclaimed as she galloped away. As the group reached the base of the mountain, soldiers pointed the way to the spot where a cave entrance had been discovered. They ascended the mountainside and arrived to find an odd commotion. The trouble centered on an agitated unicorn sitting on a rock by the mouth of a passage that was cut into the stone. Scattered around the piece of fallen archway that was her seat were empty bottles, and the place reeked with a sour alcoholic odor. A soldier ordered over his drawn weapon, “Put the bottle down and step away from the hole.” “She’s no Solar,” another observed. “Ma’am, just calm down and you’ll be fine.” “Trixie will not calm down,” the belligerent squatter growled. “Keep your grubby hooves off Trixie’s hole.” A flask danced in the air under the intoxicated unicorn’s control. It swooped down at the threatening soldier. He dodged it with a step back and raised his weapon again, though with disgust he realized it was an empty threat. They knew they would not kill her or back down, but they hesitated to tackle her since they did not know the extent of her magical ability. “What in tarnation?!” Applejack exclaimed in disbelief. The wandering performer turned towards the notable party in similar shock. She squinted at Twilight through puffy eyelids and accused, “You! I see what’s going on here! It wasn’t enough that you all humiliated me and had me banished from everywhere, so you sent your goons out here to finish me off!” “Dusk” dismounted her transport and hailed her friend. “Hey Trixie. Don’t worry about them, they’re here to help me. But how in Equestria did you end up here?” Luna fired a quick pulse of energy into the unicorn that instantly sobered her. Trixie inhaled sharply and blinked at them as the fog cleared from her mind. “Oh, it’s you. I thought you were dead. I guess you actually got what you needed, huh?” Her tone was cautiously pleased; she was glad to see Dusk, but terribly uncomfortable in her present company. “Trixie’s grandmother used to tell her about a place where the REAL magic was,” she explained. “Trixie wanted to know what that felt like, just for once before it’s over. She found the city, but then the Solars moved in so she took shelter up here. Turns out this is where it’s at. No idea what to do with it though.” Luna waved her soldiers aside and stepped forward. “What makes you say it is yours?” “It’s Trixie’s because she’s a—“ she paused with hidden alarm and embarrassment. “You know, she’s one of them.” She wilted as Luna approached her and looked quizzically down on her, but she could not break the stare once their eyes locked. The Princess looked into her for a moment and remarked, “You do not seem as such.” Trixie winced at the observation. “I understand,” the Princess allowed as though overlooking an offence. Her tone was soft, however, and Trixie was encouraged, less by her words than by an inexplicable sense of connection. “You are a magician, yes? We will go into our cave and you will help me raise the sun.” Trixie’s eyes brightened at the suggestion. “Really? Trixie can do that?” Luna nodded. The stage magician’s pride was restored, and she quickly took on the bravado of her performance persona. “The great and powerful Trixie can help you, of course!” “What just happened?” Rainbow Dash interjected. Trixie shifted the topic, but she was honestly curious. “Seriously, what IS going on here?” Since Luna seemed to be maintaining her cryptic disposition, Dash let it slide. “Well, you should know, since you’re part of it now. We’re fixing Celestia with ancient magic,” she revealed. Trixie looked back to Luna and asked doubtfully, “YOU want to help Celestia? She’s an awful bitch.” “I know I am,” Celestia answered, “but they need me to control the sun.” Trixie’s jaw dropped. “She—you—“ she stammered. She looked around at the others for confirmation. “What the Fffffff—WHAT?!” Luna proceeded into the cave. Trixie stared at Dusk and expressed her confused feelings, “I want to like you. This is so wrong.” She retreated from her mixed emotions to follow closely at Luna’s heels. The unicorns lit the way as they all moved into the rock cut passage that led into the mountain. They traversed a considerable distance through the subterranean corridor without sight of the end, but they continued into the dark. The column split up as some ponies pressed ahead, eager to reach their destination. Celestia lagged behind Rarity with heavy steps. Fluttershy silently came up beside her and said kindly, “Thank you for fixing what you did to Rarity. Maybe you’re not such a bad pony after all.” Celestia shook her head with regret. The two of them almost ran into Rarity, who was stopped in the middle of the hall. Echoes had carried the words to her ears. “Fixing what?” she demanded. “What she did to you last night,” the shy pony explained innocently. “I hope you forgave her, since she undid it and apologized. She doesn’t want to be bad, isn’t that right, Duskie?” Celestia was frozen in alarm. Rarity’s temper rose quickly. “Apologize? …You tricked me! You made me think I had wrinkles, and would never really be beautiful again!” “What happened?” the well-meaning pegasus inquired. She thought she had resolved the situation. “I didn’t fix it, I made it worse,” the little alicorn confessed to Fluttershy. “Why would you treat me like that?” Rarity balanced a tone between hurt and anger. Celestia looked her in the eyes, but only for a moment. “I’m sorry. I don’t want anything to happen to you, but you’re the generous one. If there was another way, I wouldn’t have done it, it just made sense.” “How does that make sense?” Rarity questioned firmly. “WHY?” “This place can save my life—but not for free. It has to take a life,” Celestia revealed at last. “Please understand, I had to make sure somepony would do it. Who would die for me, who knows what I am?” “Don’t you realize I would have given my life for a friend?” Rarity declared painfully. “I thought you were a friend. I was a friend to you. Is this what you really are? You—you would kill your friend? No one would die for such an ungrateful, scheming betrayer. Perhaps for the sun, but not for you.” Fluttershy’s shocked expression turned into her sharpest stare as she finally comprehended. “You!” she accused loudly, “You are BAD! You said you wouldn’t take my friends! I won’t let you.” Celestia cringed away from the usually gentle pegasus. The feral pony came at her and pinned her to the wall. “You don’t hurt my friends!” she growled fiercely. “I should have had Ripper…” Fluttershy stopped short of saying it; she knew she shouldn’t have. Celestia understood completely. It was tit for tat. She tried to “eat” one of Fluttershy’s friends, so Fluttershy wanted Ripper to eat her. The slighted pegasus withdrew back into herself as suddenly as she had burst out. It was a shock to her kind nature that she wanted someone to die; she was both angry and ashamed. Rarity came alongside the yellow pony to comfort her and gently draw her away. “It’s alright Fluttershy. Thank you for being angry for me, but we have to be better than her.” Just on that cue, the unicorn took up the cool airs of a lady to address the situation properly. “I give to those who need it, but I won’t let it be stolen.” With magic and fluid motions, she slipped quickly out of her special gown. Having illustrated her point, she continued in metaphor, “I would have worn the dress, but since you tried to force it on me, you’ve lost the customer. I’m not your mannequin.” Rainbow Dash arrived on the scene and demanded, “What’s going on? Hurry up.” There was a moment of strained silence as Celestia and Fluttershy turned their nervous and expectant gaze to Rarity. To their shock, the lady answered discretely, “We had to stop a moment.” “Are you done?” Captain Dash insisted. Rarity nodded. It was time to go, but she had assumed a pose that gave the impression she did not intend to go farther. Perhaps she belonged on that spot. Everyone else could move, but she would not be bothered. Fluttershy was confused, but remained by her real friend. Celestia understood. The pressure was on for them to move, but Rarity was making her go first. She retreated guiltily down the passage. After an artful pause Rarity began to move as well. Now that she understood her stalker, she would not be followed again. Heavy ChoicesChapter 35 Rainbow Dash, Celestia’s guardian, brought her charge to a spacious chamber on the other side of the mountain. The far end of the room was open to the air. There the floor dropped off into a jagged precipice. Beneath stretched the glassy surface of a lake cradled between the mountains, and beyond that, the fateful eastern horizon. The others were gathered about the extraordinary centerpiece of the ancient architecture. A huge, multifaceted spike of clear crystal jutted down from the high ceiling. Beneath it a round section of floor was raised a pony’s shoulder above the rest. A second stone table was ringed by smaller deposits of gemstone that protruded from its edge like miniature battlements. An unexplained golden light filled the crystals and danced through their crisp, translucent features. Luna informed Twilight and Trixie, “You cannot reach the sun, but I am not strong enough to take this task alone. When Sidayana feels my signal, the magicians outside will give their power into my aura. You must link your energy with me as well.” Twilight tried not to blush again. Doctor Sparkle set aside her personal discomfort, reminding herself, “It’s just professional.” She took a deep breath and offered her horn to the night Princess’s touch. Luna stood aloof. “That will not be necessary,” she said, relieving both of them from the impropriety. As Twilight understood that there were less intimate ways to complete the transaction, she shot an exasperated look towards Celestia. The cursed alicorn shrugged, and returned an apologetic yet amused expression. Twilight realized with consternation that she had initiated their exchange in the library. “Both of you, simply summon your strength and allow my spell to work.” The three of them lit their horns, and as each unicorn released control a faint streak of ether passed to the Princess. “Now we are ready. Nevertheless, we will only be able to hold the sun above the horizon for a short time.” Rarity and Fluttershy quietly entered and stood inconspicuously behind the others. Celestia was uncomfortable again with her guilty secret lurking in the room. All eyes turned to her, and the company parted to usher her towards the ritual platform. It was time to face the truth and the unknown. Dusk approached it fearfully. Exerting her weak legs and wings, she heaved herself on top of it. As she gazed up at the glowing spike, now pointing down at her, she could sense that its energy was more ancient than the city. She remembered with dread the awful power that had so easily undone her. She turned back to them and, hanging her head, tried to find a way to tell the cruel news. “What is it?” asked Twilight, eager to complete her mission. “I should have told you before,” she confessed. “For me to be restored, somepony has to be sacrificed,” she continued mournfully. “What do you mean?” Twilight said, as her misgivings about trusting unknown magic resurfaced. “I stand here, and a pony stands there,” she said, indicating beneath her and then at the second pedestal nearby. “When the sun comes up, from what I understood, the crystal will take life from there and put it here, into me. I’m not sure the pony who gives will have any left.” The ponies’ eyes widened as they took in the situation. They looked at each other, and some of them backed up a step. Ever protective of her comrades, Applejack demanded indignantly, “You mean you brought us here just for you to suck the life out of another poor innocent pony?!” Dusk shot back with weary frustration, “I came here because this is the only way I know to bring back the sun. I doomed the whole world, and this is the one chance I have to make up some of what I’ve done.” She lay down, resolute and fatigued. “Whatever you do, I’m staying here. If no one wants to try this crazy magic, if no one is ready to die, that’s fine. But I’M dying, and this is my last chance to do something good with my life. I’m not moving.” “Well, I ain’t giving my life to the likes of you!” Major Applejack declared. “I’d pony up for Luna and Equestria, but this is the craziest thing there is! Me and every Rough Rider worth their salt would have the great white tyrant banished to the sun, or worse! No pony here would be willin’ if they knew the truth about you.” As she looked around the chamber full of nodding heads, she understood the full import of what she had just said. “Well, no, wait now…” Luna clarified the boundaries of the discussion authoritatively: “Even if it would work, no pony will be sacrificed against their will.” “Applejack’s right, though,” Twilight acknowledged, “No Lunar soldier would be willing. It has to be one of us.” Twilight hung her head, and closed her eyes. Was this it? “I should do it. I have been Celestia’s disciple my whole life. I couldn’t see what she had become, and I helped her make a mess of things. I guess it would be worth it if I could have Celestia live on after me, the Celestia I always thought I was serving. That Celestia was wonderful.” With a glance to Rarity, Celestia worried that she did not live up to her pupil’s hopes. “No,” said Luna sadly, “If it were only a matter of remorse I would do it. I am her sister. And when she started to go wrong--” regret stifled Luna’s speech for a moment. Regaining herself, she confessed, “When she started to go wrong, when I could have helped her, I became Nightmare Moon instead. However, I am required to complete this ritual, and whatever happens, Equestria will need me when this is over. As for you, Twilight Sparkle, do not forget yourself: you may be the most magical unicorn here. I will need your help.” With the finality of these statements, all their minds rushed to fill in the next logical conclusion. Sooner or later, everyone started looking at the “Guardian of Celestia”. Rainbow Dash sensed the attention and stood perspiring and regretting the gaudy Solar emblem on her vest. “Who, me? Are you saying I should?” Rainbow Dash blurted incredulously. That was exactly what they meant. Feeling a twinge of shame, she recovered, “You know I’d never back down if there was a fighting chance, but, like, dead?” “Oh,” Twilight said, “I just thought since you were so… loyal.” It was true. Rainbow Dash wondered what was wrong with her now. She thought aloud, “Well, I think I found out a couple days ago where my loyalties really were. I disobeyed Solar orders from the highest levels to save you and Rarity. All along, since we met up—you know, with the Elements of Harmony and everything—I knew I would do anything for my friends. I was almost ready to do it, too. I was about to do it to save you, Twilight. But now my friends are safe, and I just… I don’t know. I don’t know Dusk, and I guess it turns out I didn’t really know Celestia after all.” “THE WORLD WILL PERISH IN DARKNESS!” a deranged voice yelled. It was Pinkie Pie, sensitive as ever. Having so effectively gotten everypony’s attention, she giggled nervously. “Um, I think, my tail is twitching!” she invented, wagging her puffy pink tail in all directions. No one really expected her to do it anyway, but if nopony stood up, she would be right. Rainbow Dash began to reconsider. The end of the world meant the end of her friends, too. Tears welled up as she thought about the possibility that she would never be a Wonderbolt. Forget the Wonderbolts, what if she never felt the wind rush under her wings as she soared through the open sky? Every time she did that she felt so alive. But with her friends on the line, how could she be so selfish? “I guess, I’ll do it,” Dash said, falteringly. “Well, um, look, is there any other way?” “Yes,” came the audible answer. “Huh?” was all Rainbow Dash could manage. That wasn’t the answer she expected. A white unicorn stepped forward from where she had been forgotten and overlooked. “I will do it.” “Oh, Rarity, no!” Applejack pleaded, suddenly replacing her harsh tone. Celestia’s jaw dropped and Fluttershy gave a gasp. “Why would you do that?” Twilight honestly asked. Rarity answered calmly, “It’s simple. All my life I have been in search of beauty. I have worked so hard to create and keep it, starting with myself, but also my house, my town and my world. Ever since the troubles started, I didn’t know what to do. All I could do was to carry on. I sent out fashions and fabrics to somehow fight the ugliness and pain that gripped everypony. Now everything that is fair and lovely is dying, and I can save it. It’s what I’ve tried to do all along.” Fluttershy panted, whimpered, and almost growled. She wanted to jump in the way and blurt out that something was wrong, something was sinister. The only thing that held her back was that her friend did not want to be stopped. Celestia was astonished. She had made a mistake; it shouldn’t work. Yet Rarity was in the middle of the speech that had been prepared for her. “Rarity, why’d you have to go and be so generous?” Rainbow Dash complained, once again yanked onto the scene by her own character. “Come back here, I’ll do it!” “No, Rainbow Dash, you really don’t want to. The sky should really have you and your rainbows in it. I’ve always dreamed that royalty would appreciate my work. I can go in peace knowing the graceful Princess will carry on after me. And my sister! Sweetie Belle deserves to live in a beautiful world. I know in my soul, this is right,” she spoke pleasantly, moving past Rainbow Dash as she pardoned her and approached Applejack. She took out a jeweled mane brush and gave it to the reluctant country pony. “While I’ve been in Canterlot, everything has been clean and controlled, which I quite enjoyed. It also made me realize I missed you.” She passed over to Twilight. “As for you, Twilight, I never understood your magic, but when you showed me the magic of friendship you helped me see myself in a new way,” she said, hoofing her fellow unicorn a silver mirror. She was out of trinkets when she reached Pinkie Pie, but she knew that wouldn’t matter. The teary-eyed party pony was bouncing on the tips of her hooves holding herself back. “It’s alright, Pinkie Pie,” Rarity invited, though she knew what would follow would be un-ladylike. The tremendous bear hug messed up her mane, but that wasn’t what finally brought tears to her eyes. When she was finally released, she picked her way on dainty hoofsteps to Fluttershy. The sensitive pegasus was once again hiding from the situation under her mane. Why was she still quiet? She frantically considered, “Am I being good, or too shy to help?” Rarity stood patiently until Fluttershy sniffled and looked up. With renewed fear and anger, the yellow one stared sideways at the duskling who still pretended to be helpless. Rarity put out a hoof to capture her attention. Fluttershy timidly met the hoof with her own and held it there, and they looked into each other’s eyes. Rarity’s serene disposition reassured her sensitive companion, and she whispered, “Don’t blame her for this. It’s for my friends, for you.” She turned and strutted right up to Celestia, who was still confused. The unicorn shifted from peaceful to defiant. “Do you still think you did this?” she whispered, then commanded, “Say ‘thank you’. Say it out loud.” Celestia realized her schemes had been defeated; Rarity’s integrity had so triumphed that she was above the situation. She would give as her heart led her whether or not she had been betrayed and without the need to react to the situation. “I’m sorry for everything,” the humbled Princess said in the midst of them all. “Thank you.” When she was done saying goodbye, Rarity approached the platform that was ringed with crystals. Mounting it and posing at the top, she indulged, “Stylish, isn’t it?” The death device lit her like a Vaudeville stage. She looked thoughtfully into the crystals that rose up around her and studied the golden light that danced inside them. “This may seem foolish,” she admitted, “but I trust it because it’s beautiful.” Celestia's VictoryChapter 36 Dusk closed her eyes for a moment and looked again at the defiant unicorn. Had Rarity triumphed? Was she not standing on her grave, just as Celestia had planned? “I must still have the knack,” the old manipulator discovered. “Even when she knows I bent her mind to do it, she can’t stop herself.” She held back an exclamation. “I did it,” she noted with satisfaction. “I saved the world. Whatever that thing was, it tried to take my power and life. But I kept my mind and got myself here. I convinced Twilight to rescue me, and to bring Rarity. I opened the Vault and fought through that book’s tricks until it gave me the answer. I put the elemental six back together and gained the use of Luna’s power. Now, when I drink in Rarity’s beautiful essence, I will retake my life and my power. It’s sad that she won’t survive, but a wise ruler has to make sacrifices to protect her empire. I won’t make the same mistake as my sister. I have learned how I need to change. Cruelty is dangerous, and living in harmony with those around me is a better way. I was lost, lost in the bad ways of thinking and doing, but now I’ve come back into balance. I will be a good ruler now, and only do ill when it is necessary. I’m a more sensible Princess than Luna that way.” Luna reached out to the sun as she had these past several days of dusk; but this time she threw her strength into it. The enormous burden lifted slowly and sapped her energy quickly. Twilight, Trixie, and her entourage outside joined her exertions with their own magic. “I do wish there was another way,” Dusk lamented to herself. “Or do I?” Dusk caught herself gazing hungrily at the model equine body that was about to come into her possession. She was happy with her selection. Happy is a simple word. In a sentimental way, she deeply regretted that such a noble soul would be lost. However, it was quite understandable for her to be relieved to escape death and eagerly anticipate being revived, to know wellness and strength once more. That wasn’t all she was feeling. “No, I would never—“ Celestia thought, but her wings betrayed her mood as they lifted rigidly off her back. She flexed them self-consciously, hiding the physiological result of her internal condition. Why shouldn’t she think of Rarity that way, after the way the unicorn flirted like a dirty ho on the forest trail? Celestia reassured herself that she was doing this for the right reasons, but what if she wasn’t? After all this, was she no different than she started? Control the mind. Use the body. Experience the thrill. That was the formula she knew. She had recently lived like the prey of fate, but her latest decisions had rejected that in favor of being a predator again. She had stalked Rarity all the way from Canterlot, and now she was closing in. She was ashamed, but she could not release the mare from her grip or deny the sensation. She must control, must dominate, so that somehow she would not be dominated. “And it makes me feel fucking high,” she admitted with alarm. She hid her face but could not hide any further. Celestia found herself revolting and insidious, and at the same time the center of attention and even hope. The coming light was supposed to be her healing, but she looked up at it with fear. She was afraid of herself. The sun’s warmth surrounded her. A bright aura lifted up from her—no, it was brightly illuminated steam and smoke. She gasped in terror, this time not of her dark nature, but of the ferocious anger reserved for beings such as her. It was the heat of death, not life, upon her, scalding her. She screamed like she had screamed only once before, as flames sprouted from her flesh, eating inwards towards her core. Rarity also cried out as strange tides of unfamiliar energy stirred through the chamber. The magicians hesitated a moment, unsure what success was supposed to look like. A blue blur knocked the flaming alicorn backwards from the altar of her doom, and though she flailed in agony, Captain Dash held her firm in the low shadow of the ancient platform. Luna and the others dropped the sun, and the Princess chased it to the edge of the cliff. There she summoned up a jet of water from the lake below. The stream arced through the air and splashed down on the burning body. Dash released the extinguished alicorn, who lay limp, and checked for signs of life. Little Celestia was badly burned and barely conscious. She coughed uncontrollably and gasped for air, though the oxygen fueled the pain. Luna and Twilight once again reached into her body with their minds to hold her back from the brink of death. After a minute of tense struggle, Celestia was clear of the episode, but twice as weak as before. “I don’t think she can survive that again,” Twilight warned. Rarity was lying in a heap with a hoof over her face. Applejack and Fluttershy rushed to her without a glance towards their old enemy. “Are you alright? Please be alright!” Applejack begged and lifted the unicorn’s dainty chin so she could look her in the eyes. Rarity’s skin was still warm, but her eyes were totally blank. “Oh no,” AJ lamented, peering at her friend whose face was frozen in an expression of shock. Pinkie Pie came out of nowhere and thrust herself onto the scene. She gasped, put her hooves to her mouth and exclaimed, “IT SWALLOWED HER SOUL!” “No, Pinkie Pie,” Rarity finally cringed and cried, “It’s worse!” “Oh, I’m so glad you’re alive!” Fluttershy quietly exclaimed. “But how?” Applejack wondered. “I heard you scream in pain when the crystals were draining you.” “Oh, not that,” Rarity dismissed, “Those crystals just gave me a bit of a buzz. I screamed when I found out what it did to my mane,” she said, gesturing to her mane which, they just now noticed, was amazingly frizzy. Loaded with static, her mane and tail poked stiff hairs in all directions. She burst out, “I just can’t be seen by royalty looking like this, I’ll be finished! This is the WORST thing that could POSSIBLY happen! The worst thing.” “Need a hoof, partner?” Applejack said, extending the jeweled brush to Rarity. “Oh, yes! I didn’t think you’d understand,” the fashionable unicorn exclaimed as the brush leapt out of Applejack’s hoof and began dancing around her neck rhythmically. When Twilight and Rainbow Dash were satisfied that Celestia’s condition was stable, they joined their friends. Rarity knew how to groom herself by heart but retrieved her mirror from Twilight just to make sure. In no time she was her immaculate and collected self again. “I never did understand you,” Applejack admitted, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t be there for my friend.” Rarity looked up to say “Thank you,” but the dam had already burst and her friends were already embracing her from all sides. “We thought we wouldn’t see you again!” Fluttershy said something really nice but no one heard her. Rarity appreciated it anyway. For the first time that day, Applejack wore a genuine smile. Hope had just left them, but for now she was happy to have her friend back. Trixie’s surly, hung over expression returned. “That was supposed to save the world? Well now we’re—“ “Stop!” Luna ordered sharply. “Do not say it. We will not despair of Equestria. If we give up, everything we do will be meaningless. We will not be here again, so I will stay here until I have succeeded.” Comprehending glances were exchanged among the friends, and they knew their response would be the same as that of the moon Princess. They would live as if they had hope. There was no reason to hold back, no room for selfishness in the face of such finality. Pinkie Pie stifled an outburst. She took a firm hold on her tail to deny its signal, and did her best to keep her ears calm. They twitched nevertheless. Her mane sank and there was fear on her face, but she was ashamed to bring bad news after what had just been spoken. Applejack was always wary for her friend’s warning, and asked calmly, “Pinkie Pie, is it true?” Pinkie gulped and nodded. “It’s alright.” The major turned to her commander-in-chief and announced, “Ma’am, we have contact.” "My brother's here," Twilight said with a lump in her throat. Luna acknowledged. “You two may go. Twilight, please remain here with me. I hope to need you.” With that she dropped the moon. Only the light of the shimmering crystals remained. Applejack moved to Captain Dash and drew her revolver. “I don’t understand it, but somehow you’re a Solar and you’re also my friend.” She handed the weapon to the Solar Scout, who received it solemnly. Applejack charged her, “Take care of Rarity and Fluttershy, and Celestia if ya must. It’s an honor to finally serve with ya.” Rainbow Dash saluted her rival and comrade. Pinkie Pie came to Applejack’s side and held out a hoof to her old pegasus playmate. “Morsa…” she weakly started. “Mors,” Dash responded, and gave the hoof pound. There were no muffins this time. Pinkie Pie sniffed and wouldn’t pull her hoof away. “Come on, our folks need us,” Applejack gently urged, and the two began to walk the passage through the mountain. Thunder rumbled in the cloudless night. They moved into a trot and then a gallop. Blood for TimeChapter 37 Major Applejack and Private Pie barreled down the slope as moonlight receded from the landscape. The jumbled noises of weapons fire rose out of the distance ahead. By the time they reached the city, the darkness was thick and oppressive. Applejack was forced to slow down to retrace their route. Though they stumbled on debris a few times, they made good headway towards the front. The pace of gunfire and explosions slowed as they travelled, but each sound was louder as they neared the danger. The first movement of the battle was already finished when they arrived. From their concealed positions at the edge of the city, the Lunar army caught the enemy infantry crossing open ground. The Solars took considerable casualties before abandoning their initial advance. Once the defenders had made themselves known, the heavy industrial firepower of the Empire honed in on them. The rumble Applejack and Pinkie Pie had heard from the other side of the mountain was the barrage of the Solar armada against the steps of the ancient metropolis. Facing naval artillery and tanks, the Lunars retreated further into the city, where they would be more difficult to detect. The bombardment ceased. Four Lunar warships had regrouped from elsewhere in Equestria; three destroyers and one cruiser could not hold off the large Imperial fleet, but they could slow them down. The outnumbered vessels sheltered behind the triple peaks while the first destroyer charged out boldly. Its guns were silent so that it would be harder to detect in the darkness. Instead it launched a volley of torpedoes in a wide spread. Once the Imperial captains realized there were warheads in the air, they were forced to hold back and concentrate on evasive maneuvers. Applejack asked the first ponies she encountered, “Where are the Rough Riders?” “Down the line that way, only you better hurry before it gets hot again,” a soldier answered. Now the numerically superior enemy infantry would fight them in an even environment. “Sure would help if we could see where we were going,” the major grumbled half to herself. “And they call us nightsiders,” he quipped. “Take this.” He hoofed her a flashlight. She illuminated herself to tip her hat and was off again, travelling much quicker. “Manehattanites,” she chuckled under her breath, this time gratefully. They could hear the fighting intensify elsewhere as they arrived to their own unit. Big Macintosh motioned her behind a jagged, partially collapsed wall that stretched across a significant part of their line, and gave her his pistol. Suddenly, hooves beat the earth. A crowd of ponies rounded a corner and rushed down the street toward them. The Rough Riders fired into the dark mass, but they could not see the effect of their action. The enemy was upon them in a moment, but a second volley of shots blunted the charge. Most of the Solars turned back to find cover opposite of the Lunar line, but one fanatic pressed forward into the midst of his foes. As he sank to the ground from a mortal wound, the grenade he was holding exploded, and the Rough Riders lost three of their number. Big Mac took advantage of the brief opportunity to step forward and claim a submachine gun from the kill zone. He returned and gave his rifle to his sister. The Solars waited to see if they would be assisted by their heavy units again. Somewhere beyond their sight, the Lunar troops could hear the growl of a tank’s engine. With a clunk and a change in tone, it shifted gears; again, and it reversed. The thing continued back and forth, trying to find a way through to the fight. The fleet had outdone itself, and the massive stone buildings they had toppled made the area practically impassible to vehicles. The Solar troops realized they would have to push through the opposition themselves, and a street-to-street shootout began. Pinkie Pie hid in a corner and cowered with her hooves on her head. She was supposed to be a soldier, but her senses were overwhelmed. She whined and quivered with fear. Her fear was crushing, like she was about to die. She could feel death happening. She regained herself as the sensation waned, but it came back suddenly, and she collapsed shivering again. The ground also shivered under the pounding of war, dislodging loose stones from the skeleton of the structure they were sheltered in. She quickly pushed herself backwards by a few hoof-breadths; one of the rocks fell right in front of her. She stared at it where it bounced. Her eyes widened. She had felt the rock falling, just like she had felt death—it wasn’t her death. A moment of thought later, she lifted her head curiously and examined her surroundings. She glanced about, ears alert. Then she ran and pounced on a nearby Rough Rider, knocking him prone. Bullets impacted just beyond them. “What the hell, Pinkie?” he protested. Nose to nose, she informed in monotone, “You just died.” She rolled off of him. He cocked his head at her at first, but then tipped his hat. Then he was back in position, and aiming to shoot his killer. Pinkie Pie gasped and cracked a slight smile. She tensed, waited, and then scrambled over the debris to fling herself on another comrade who was next to Applejack. Ricocheting fragments from that death-bullet stung her side, but with the rush she was getting, she barely felt it. The major saw her friend’s exploits and demanded, “What’s going on?” “Oh, these two fellas just not-died,” Pinkie quipped with a grin. Without a second thought to the weirdness, Applejack took it in and exclaimed, “Shit, why are we not-dying so fast!?” Pinkie Pie wasn’t there to answer her question. The pink mare hopped and bounced back the other way. She laughed and piped, “This is fun!” as she caught another soldier in a flying tackle. “You just died!” she proudly announced. “You should be more careful,” she teased playfully—but froze. Her mane popped and fell gutted around her. The soldier did not move or protest, and Pinkie’s hooves and chest were wet with blood. She had met him a couple times, and coaxed a smile from him, but here he was: just another soldier shape lying across the brutal landscape. No tears came to her eyes as she stared blankly at him in disbelief. “Look up!” the riflecolt next to Applejack hollered. “They’re above us.” The major followed his gesture to the top level of a ruined edifice that she had thought to be inaccessible. Solar troops were firing down at them through several windows; the vantage point rendered the desperate Lunars dangerously exposed. The colt hunkered lower and shot back at their attackers, but the enemy could not have been better protected by castle battlements. Big Mac sprinted to cover next to his sister and verbosely declared, “We can’t stay here like this.” Applejack, tense and dripping with sweat, pointed out, “No, but we can’t run right now either. They’re massed up behind that wall, and the second we split they’ll be on our heels. If we survive they’ll chase us straight to Luna.” Dark winged shapes dropped into the spot she referenced, and waited like vultures. “A grenade up there would shut ‘em up though.” “No one could throw one that far,” the Lunar next to her stated. “I didn’t say throw it,” she dismissed, and insisted to her brother, “It’s just like kicking apples. I can do it.” He acknowledged and left. They endured a painful wait, pinned down and forced to listen to the screams of an injured comrade. He returned with grenades, and swapped them for her flashlight. “Ha, I’ll only need one,” Applejack touted, building her courage. The peril of her unit was motivation enough. Big Mac shined the flashlight into the air in front of them and Applejack stepped quickly into the open. “Oof!” Something slammed her face into the bricks that littered the ground. She squirmed and rolled to see what was on top of her. Pinkie Pie had knocked her back into cover. She clutched her friend tightly and dripped tears on her. “You not-died, AJ!” she sobbed. “Just like that, huh?” Applejack marveled, trying not to panic. She couldn’t break now; giving up would be no better than dying. “You have to let me go.” Pinkie Pie still would not let go. “You not-died. Promise me you won’t die,” she begged. Applejack shook her head and replied simply, “I have to do this.” Pinkie Pie released her grip, and Big Mac pulled her aside. He gave her the light and instructed firmly, “JUST THE GRENADE.” Applejack signaled that she was ready to give it another try. He raised the submachine gun he had captured and charged out ahead of her, spraying bullets toward the enemy. He could not really aim at a gallop, but he could leave a trail of muzzle flashes leading away from his sister. Applejack jumped back into the open facing away from her target. In a flash she executed an unlikely series of movements. She pulled the pin with her teeth and tossed the bomb over herself. She put her weight onto her front hooves, lifted her plot to the enemy, and watched for the grenade to come down. It lit up as it crossed Pinkie’s beam behind her, and just when it was between her and the target she nailed it with a powerful kick. It left their sight into the darkness. Shrapnel and smoke burst from the windows of the occupied level of the building, and the guns above were silenced. The determined country warriors were now free to take steady aim and show their superiority to the hastily-trained enemy masses. The Solars were forced to back down from their renewed assault and take their turn keeping low and staying alive. The Rough Riders could hold off the Imperial army for now. But Applejack worried how the rest of the battle was going—and even more, would it all matter? The first Lunar vessel, exhausted of its torpedoes, retreated back to the mountain as a second ship moved to take its place. The front line of the fighting below was confused by uneven resistance in the dark, crooked streets. Commanders struggled to keep apprised of their units. A lone pegasus flew through hostile skies, praying that he would not be discovered by the enemies below. Something screamed down at him, and he barely dodged a huge shape with tearing claws. “Damn eagle eyes!” he cursed. The griffin pursued closely behind him, and began to overtake its prey. The Lunar pegasus rolled in the air and flew zigzags, but continued forward. Unable to slow down, he careened into a painful landing in the midst of a crumbled structure. He tried to run from the deadly Imperial that landed behind him, but the thing had caught his tail. He cried out to surprised shapes that moved about them as the griffin pulled him backwards and reached for his neck to silence him. A big stallion stepped in to buck it away from its victim. The eagle-beast was thrown to the wall behind it. It bounced back in a rage and slashed its talons at Big Mac, dealing him a deep gash across the shoulder. Muzzle flashes lit the old masonry and the Solar sky-hunter fell dead. The pegasus messenger requested, “Where’s Major Applejack? Who’s in charge here?” “That’s me,” said the cowgirl. “You’re being cut off,” the messenger warned. “Damn.” Applejack nodded, and ordered, “Alright everypony, fall back. Quiet now, don’t let them know we’ve left.” The unit slipped out of their positions and headed out from behind enemy lines. They were gone before their opponents realized they were no longer pinned down. DespairChapter 38 Celestia lay crumpled like a wet cloth on the hard stone of the ritual hall, with patches of her fur coat melted to her skin. While the battle began on the other side of the mountain, here Luna and Twilight contended with the puzzling failure of the ancient magic. Luna had sensed a great ethereal pressure, as if some tremendous power had ground to a halt as it pressed against an obstacle. She peered into the largest crystal, which still illuminated the chamber. Clearly there was real magic here, so what was wrong with it? Twilight calculated, “Was this made for regular ponies? Maybe Rarity isn’t enough to restore an alicorn. If it is like my magic, resistance from any of the minds involved could be an issue.” “Whatever it did, I did not resist,” Rarity avowed. The frustrated Princess probed the energy in the crystal by intruding some of her own magic into the translucent stone. The ether of her spell was knocked back to her instantly. It was familiar and pleasurable; she huffed at the irrelevant sensation. There was something about this energy that reminded her of the Elements of Harmony, but it was somehow different. There was none of the harshness that had cast her to the moon or broken her vengeful spirit. “This magic is not like yours,” she stated to Twilight. Luna slowly and thoughtfully walked around the glowing spike and probed it from different angles. Then she investigated the crystals of the other platform. She returned to the center and urgently contemplated all she knew, but could find no answers. Celestia’s investigations were of a different character. She shivered from the chill of the breeze on her naked, wet skin and of the despair that was seizing her. The events of the dusk times flashed before her. Through the pain, she desperately bent her mind to understanding her end. “When you live a life and make a journey, you’re supposed to end up with some meaning or shit like that, right? It seems like there isn’t any point to all this, but it’s all a part of a plan. A plan means a purpose. Obviously the idea isn’t for us to unite and forgive and attain our survival. There must be some point to letting us come this far, when I could have just died in the palace, some reason for prolonging our doom. We are still supposed to die, but I’m supposed to understand something first. If it was Celestia’s gig, it would be a cruel joke, but there’s been an awful lot of lead-up to let the punch line be a whisper in my head. That’s not how you tell a joke, you shout the punch line with maniacal laughter. It’s more like something else. It’s like letting someone down softly, finally confessing something you couldn’t bear to tell them up front.” She stopped; as Celestia considered the vast events and shadowy players, a sensation came over her like she was being watched, and not by ponies. She closed her eyes tightly and looked deeply into her own darkness. She consciously traveled deeper and deeper, through herself, and beyond, to something else, the something else. In that abyss she spoke, “Hey you. Yeah, you. The absolutely ancient, deathless, powerful presence I can’t find and can’t get away from. Are you going to say something?” The voice inside her was recklessly bold; her anger bubbled up through the reality of her total defeat. Now that she truly had nothing left to lose, there was no reason to contain her defiance. “You did this and it means something, but you haven’t even told me what it is! You made all this happen, you made all this, didn’t you? You won’t kill all that’s alive and thinking without an explanation—that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Now I understand, and you’re going to listen to me. I’M going to TELL you what you mean.” “Fluttershy was wrong about her pet. She said it should still live, even though its existence depends on devouring other animals—and she claims to care for them, too! ‘The jungle does what it wills.’ That isn’t what she should think, it’s what she needs to think. I say it’s cruel not to kill the Ripper. “You’re right, fuck it. Luna, Twilight, Rarity… They were wrong about me, they shouldn’t have brought me here. I do what I will, but they shouldn’t try to save me. I tried to take Rarity’s life to save my own—and they aren’t any different. They tried to bring me back—the biggest predator—to save themselves, and it was the noblest thing they could do. I tried to get away with murder, and they tried to get away with helping me. So you were right about them, too. And they are the best ones. “But there is something else besides normal life, something besides normal ponies. The something else is in Twilight and her friends, in Luna, and a little less in some ponies, like Derpy, and even Trixie somehow under her thick shell. It DOES have a name. So, yeah, Harmony. I get that you’re not gems or a feeling in ponies; you’re alive, surprise. “So yeah, I was a little wrong. There is something beautiful in all this that will go on when everyone’s dead. You are a beautiful thing, fuck you. The beauty that’s left doesn’t need to be observed to be fulfilled—maybe that was the idea, but it doesn’t work. What it needs is to be preserved. It has to be protected or it will be corrupted by beings like us. Boil down the life forms, mix them up, then make it walk and talk, and what is it? Wouldn’t it look something like a draconequus? Discord must be the purest sample. So this time you’re right, Harmony. Why would you let all this discord go on? “I get it. This is you admitting to me that you fucked up. Equestria, life, was a nice idea, but this is how it turns out. Your little experiment failed. You made me, so you obviously fucked up. You really care, that’s what you are, but you have to end us. You couldn’t even kill us straight up, so now you’ve unplugged us and walked away. I’m sorry, but you are too, aren’t you? But you’re right, damn it.” Spent on words, Celestia brought herself back to reality, whatever that is. She raised her head to use her magic for the last time. Though she was wet and cold on the outside, she knew there was still that fire that had been given to her as her personal executioner. Fire spells were simple to her; it would be easy to finish the task. As she prepared herself, she ranted in frustration, “I agree, so why do I still feel so wrong? I agree, so let me feel right, damn it.” Light began to well up from her puny horn, and then… “Ahem.” It wasn’t just any “ahem,” more like “aaAA-humm,” with equine vanity dripping from the ah and a sultry grind on the m. Celestia blinked at the ridiculously inappropriate tone, and looked up to see—of course—Trixie Trotter. InterruptedChapter 39 “Ahem.” Trixie was propped up on a stone chest that had sat unnoticed throughout the events of the dead morning. After refreshing herself with cider and watching all the drama, she announced, “If you’re all done, Trixie has found something important.” The others turned as the brash blue unicorn levitated something out of the chest and into her hat. She stood up to take her stage stance, holding her hat out tantalizingly with a crooked smile. “For clopping out loud!” let out Rainbow Dash, “just tell us what it is.” Trixie peeked into her hat, started to speak, then peeked back into her hat. There was a flash and a puff of smoke, and it appeared in her other hoof. “Trixie does not know,” she conceded, “but Trixie has found it and she is sure it is important.” She held a single page from an old manuscript. Twilight gasped, snatched it away from the surprised Trixie, and showed it to Celestia. “I see white,” Twilight said in a hushed tone. She hoofed it to Celestia, who answered, “Black…” “I can’t read anything though, do you see anything?” Twilight inquired further. Celestia did not answer but trembled as her eyes moved across the page. The book was here? Instead of silence, she had received an answer. She knew what she had to do. She buried her vision into the cracks of the ancient manuscript. The blackness of the page emanated out across its edges, covering the sights of the chamber and melding with the charred hide of her forelegs. It blotted out the others and closed in around her. Her world grew strangely flat as it melded with her from all sides and closed the gaps between her features. All dimensions were lost into blindness. All was still and formless, a total black emptiness. Something white appeared; it was not a portal, but a fullness that soon replaced the dark. She felt a sharp prick on her skin that oozed a cold liquid. Something outside the plane of her existence seemed to intersect it and score her body with its tip. After it continued its work for a few moments, scraping on her and in her, she realized that the only parts of herself she could be sure existed were those the thing had touched. She felt it move over her whole frame, marking out the boundaries of Celestia, but still she could see nothing. Her eyelids came back into being and she stretched them wide in fear as the thing impacted her empty pupil and remained, oozing blackness. As the darkness spread it gave her sight to see a plumed shaft rising from the middle of her view. The thing was a quill pen made with a huge scarlet feather. It moved out into space and came back down to fill in her other eye. The pen completed its work, an alicorn of purest white, a beautiful Princess. She looked out at an esoteric scene from where she lay on the page. Grasping back to reality, she turned away. She saw herself, standing in the crystal cave with Luna and Twilight. She was holding herself at the edges. Secure that she was still there, the disembodied Princess returned to the world of the artist. The pen levitated through the air on unicorn magic. It was daylight there; water, air, and creatures stood unstirring. A row of pegasi stood grim and at attention along the edges of a causeway in the middle of a lake. The road was outlined with silver; within these polished bounds water was somehow trapped and solid. The glasslike causeway led on top of the lake and then up off the surface far into the air and towards the mountain, where it led into the cliff opening of the crystal cave. In the middle of her view stood the author. His pen, inkwell and paper-bound Princess hovered where he had levitated them. He was a mighty alicorn with a rich golden coat and a flowing white mane. The quill of the pen could only have come from the vein of red feathers in his wing. He gazed at her intently; she apprehensively diverted her eyes from his. How could he exist? According to the ancient unicorn sages, he didn’t. Where could he have come from? The radiance of his magic around her alarmed her like the power that had undone her, but as much as she feared him she was drawn to him. She scarcely allowed herself another glance at him. Instead, she studied everything around him, soaking as much as she could of the powerful stranger with her peripheral vision. Celestia watched the waves under his hooves and observed the pegasi behind him. She looked at those blocked by his flank and tail, and those near his chest; but even that was too close to his face. Above his towering form, stars shone clearly through the daylight in a pattern of spiraled arms. Satisfied, he waved his horn, offering his utensils to someone behind Celestia. She moved backwards until she was also collected by a great clawed paw. Looking almost sideways off the manuscript, she saw the face of an enormous manticore. The fur of its face was a verdant green that offered a startling contrast to its crimson mane. Its ferocious and wild countenance was tempered by the wisdom of a long flowing beard and discerning eyes. The intelligent beast put the pen and inkwell into a small box that he carried, but continued to hold the portrait towards its source. Her fear at being in the custody of a cunning predator grew when she realized that her artist was entrapped in heavy iron shackles that bound his limbs tightly together and held his wings fast against his back. However, he began to drag the chains down the prismatic road deliberately and at no signal from a captor. The manticore followed on his right hoof, trailing respectfully a few paces behind. They traveled slowly and solemnly, hooves and paws thudding on the snared water. The chains clinked and clattered with each restricted step. As they walked up the ramp, the drawing of Celestia was lost in contemplation. Why was he in chains? She thought it had to be a willing sacrifice. The thought of someone being forced onto that platform was as unbearable as what she had tried to do. Yet if it was against his will, why had he brought her here? They stopped, standing on the waterway, which hung in the air beside the cliff. The rows of pegasi, each wearing a strange emblem, hovered up and backed away to each side with gentle wingbeats. The manticore also retreated by a few backward strides. With a burst of magic, the alicorn burst free of his chains. The shackles ripped apart and the heavy links of chain snapped, sending out a small shower of iron. The fetters were either launched to the side, or landing on the causeway, clattered as they slid off and out of sight. The magician stood tall and powerful, reaching above the manticore and filling the scene with his unfurled wings. The pegasi bowed in their suspended flight. Celestia was shown the ground as her carrier bowed and knelt. As it bowed, she thought she could see fear in even this toothy and intimidating face. “What is going on? Is the writer going to escape?” she wondered, even hoped, despite what she knew was true. The beast stood back up and approached the magician once again, this time holding out a golden chest. The author took off ornaments of gold, silver, and solid crystal and placed them carefully into the chest. Lastly he relinquished a dazzling crown of green and blue crystals, greater than that which Celestia once bore with haughty pride. When each was placed in the chest, the manticore closed it and locked it securely with a key. The key had an ornate handle with markings of the sun and moon and a ring around it studded with small devices of the celestial bodies together—eclipses. It was only a glimpse and she could not count the eclipses. With the formalities now completed, the alicorn strode into the enchanted cave and mounted the receiving platform, sitting inside its circle of hungry crystalline teeth. All of the gemstone was clear, glasslike, and empty. He beckoned, and she was brought to him. She moved her dimensionless body to place her hoof up against the surface of the manuscript towards him. He extended a powerful gold hoof and pressed it gently against hers. Across all logical boundaries, she felt the warmth of his touch. She still could not look him in the eye, but sensed him looking deeply into hers. He was not here by fear or despair; nor by coercion, nor by a lofty, detached duty to save the world. He was here for her. Distance through ages, the shroud of death, and strange dimensions melted before that simple truth. She was torn away from the exchange by the manticore, who took her to the edge of the cavern a safe distance from the transferring platforms. The water of the causeway was suddenly released and fell out of sight or splattered on the cliff. Its silver borders wound and folded on themselves and soon were gone as well. He turned from her and faced the sun as it moved into place in front of the cave. The pegasi outside took wing and swirled around the sun. Air and light bent into a tremendous vortex that flooded the chamber with a rush. Celestia feared that she would be ripped apart as the paper thrashed wildly in the wind, but the manticore insistently held her out towards a beautiful and horrifying sight. The author burned violently. Great ribbons of fire arced off his skin and into the surrounding crystals. The great being collapsed in agony as the crystals filled with radiant energy. As the crystals around him and those in the ceiling glowed inside so brightly they could not be distinguished from the sun, the author disappeared completely. She was hastily shoved into the chest, and darkness closed over her. She closed her eyes and held her breath as layers of dust fell one after the other upon her. She absorbed huge drops of water that fell on her and crinkled her. And there she was, crying on herself, standing in the same place but a different time, staring longingly into a piece of old parchment. She stepped back in disbelief. She stared, first at the empty sacrificial platform, then at the light in the crystal spike. It wasn’t trapped sunlight or some impersonal magic ether: it was his life. He died instead of her, he died as her. He knew all about her and what she had done, but he gave everything for her. Why? Living in the past, he certainly did not need her to light his world. How did he even know she’d accept it? It was against the way she’d always lived. She’d tried to control and make things happen herself. The whole time, even when other ponies were more powerful than her and told her what to do, she thought she was in control. By playing her cards right and relying on the fact that everypony needed her, she was in control and she would save herself. She already knew her plan had failed—but to accept this she would have to submit to his plan. She had always had a deep fear of being truly under someone else’s power. After Discord, she vowed she would never let it happen again. This was the author’s move. To take his gift, she would have to embrace that he had been in control the whole time, even though he was dead, and that he was still in control of her. He was not letting her down gently—it was an other-worldly proposal. To take his life would link them in a way that she did not understand—but she did understand that it could not be undone. How was she supposed to respond? She was ready to be healed and raise the sun, but she wasn’t prepared for something so personal. “It doesn’t make any sense! Why would anyone do this for me? Why would he draw me as a beautiful Princess when I’ve always been this—a sick, twisted piece of shit who’s only been hurt and hurt others?” She had just convinced herself to end it all, and now he wanted to give her life. “Why? I’m not worth it!” But could she really say now, “You were wrong?” She realized it would be the worst crime she had ever committed to insult this gift and turn it down. It came down to whether she would trust him and his intentions, his knowledge, and his love. It was far more comfortable to trust herself. The truth was, he was saving her from herself, again. “I agree,” she said aloud. “I…” she searched for the proper expression, “I do.” Luna demanded, “What has happened, Celestia?” “Now Trixie wants to know,” the show pony chimed in. Many bewildered eyes were on Celestia once again, but she seemed unable to speak. Twilight stepped forward to say, “I think somepony already sacrificed their life.” “Oh,” said Rarity, “You mean it wasn’t me? If it wasn’t me, who was it?” Her bowed head dripping with tears, Celestia pushed the paper—now white to her eyes—back towards Trixie. “Thank you, Trixie. You don’t know what that means to me.” She sobbed, “Please keep it safe.” Trixie took it and stashed in back in the chest. She put her hat back on and stood importantly over it. Celestia tried to raise herself to all fours, but fell back down. “Put me back on the platform,” she insisted weakly. “Who will join you?” Luna questioned. “He’s already there,” the shriveled alicorn informed. “That’s why it didn’t work before.” She had misunderstood the book. In her ignorance she had tried to lie, cheat, and steal that which was offered freely as a gift. Her sister objected, “But you’ll die!” “I’ll die if I don’t, won’t I?” Celestia answered. With the ease of thought, the Princess lifted the limp little body onto the blackened stone slab. Luna closed her eyes and breathed deeply. When she opened them again, they shone blue. Twilight, Trixie, and the magicians outside felt the subliminal signal to send out their energy again. The moon Princess’s horn glowed brightly, and she reached out once more. This time she strained harder, but the churning world of fire came back up over the mountains and the lake. The harsh light poured in again and the searing radiation penetrated Celestia’s singed coat, threatening to finally roast her flesh. The “bringer of light” closed her eyes to shut it out as the crystal above grew brighter and brighter, until it was indistinguishable from the sun. A beam of white fire shot out from its tip and she cried out as it struck her and engulfed her. As she disappeared in the light, Celestia gave herself over to it, and felt herself die. She burned up entirely. She opened her eyes. Celestia took in the feeling and the reality of her impossible state. She was still there. She was in the fire, and the fire was in her. The heat was not painful but passionate and exhilarating. For a moment she felt disembodied and formless, lost in an element of bliss. The flames rippled and smoothed into a plasma that coursed over her skin, under her skin: it was her skin. The scar in her chest tore away from her and exploded into nothing. She felt weightless as she rose up on her hind legs and stretched out her wings. Her new horn just met the point of the crystal as the last of the immortal energy poured into her. The pure white alicorn jumped off the platform and flew exuberant laps around the ceiling of the chamber. She came down at the mouth of the cave overlooking the water below and hopped youthfully through the sun’s warm rays, scarce casting a shadow. Her great body cooled and calmed. She stood and smiled innocently, letting the unfettered locks of her green, blue, and pink mane flow in all directions. She could have been content to remain there forever, but she remembered the world once again and turned to those who had remained with her. Twilight had completely lost focus on her magic and her horn no longer glowed. “Dus--uh,” she stuttered, “—Celestia!” She bowed, and Rainbow Dash followed her example. Fluttershy’s big moon eyes peeked around Rarity. Luna still filled the back of the chamber. While she was also moved by all that had happened, she was spending all her strength to keep the sun from plummeting back out of sight. Trixie stood in the corner perspiring profusely as she struggled to keep up her part of the massive task. Luna’s gaze stayed fixed on the mismatched heavenly body, but her mind was on her sister. Celestia glanced at the image of the sun on her flank and back to her sister. She closed her eyes, and with a shining horn she bid it to remain aloft, and to slowly rise. The moon Princess let go of the burning light and watched it until she was satisfied that it would not fall. “What are you doing?!” Trixie protested, “The great and powerful Trixie can’t hold up the sun all by herself!” She strained and howled before collapsing on the floor. The dawn persisted without her. Celestia’s own happiness was dampened as she realized that Luna might not be happy to see her again. She waited eagerly for some sign of feeling from her sister, but received none. The Premier of the Republic stated coldly, “I have nothing to say to you while my soldiers are dying.” “The war!” Celestia exclaimed, “It’s over!” She galloped past Luna and through the chiseled corridor to the other side of the mountain. Luna, Twilight, and Rainbow Dash chased after her. The white alicorn burst from the entrance and leapt into the daylight sky. After a moment of shock, the soldiers that protected the approach raised their weapons against their arch enemy. “Don’t shoot!” boomed the Lunar leader, her voice echoing out of the mouth of the cavern. She watched as Celestia swooped heedlessly over the battle lines before pulling up to meet the Imperial Sovereignty. The NLR troops wavered, fearing her appearance as an ill sign. The Solar army cheered at her return. With the war’s nominal objective suddenly accomplished, they hesitated and took cover to wait for new orders. Broken MirrorsChapter 40 Princess Celestia landed on the deck of her military’s flagship. Shocked crew abandoned their duties and snapped to attention. The ship sensed her presence and automatically hailed her with an ostentatious fanfare. She strode energetically to the nearest hatch, which flung open before her, and took the stairs down. One would not have known from its overwrought appearance, but the decorated passage descended between the envelopes of volatile gasses. She entered the main hull, and followed the familiar halls toward the command deck, ignoring the honors of the officers she encountered. At last she reached the bridge. Thick, reinforced glass allowed a panoramic view out the front of the ship. Behind this, command surfaces bristled with buttons, dials, and radio receivers. Further back was an open space for high-ranking officers to confer and make decisions. The great white ruler came in by the door in the back of the room. To her surprise, it was empty, save for a single unicorn. General Armor waited with his back to her. “General, order all of our forces to hold fire and cease their advance,” she ordered as she approached him. Hydraulics hissed as metal bars shot up through the floor, tearing holes in the ornamental mahogany and impacting the ceiling with a sharp clang. The powerful alicorn moved to defend herself with her magic before they could close in around her, but her horn flashed violently and blinded her. She felt drained and oppressed. The bluish bars hummed eerily and ribbons of her own energy swam about the charged cylinders. It was a disenchanting prism, and it was not in the original design of the ship. “I can serve you better than that,” the General contended. “I won this victory over the heretics, and no one’s going to take away my revenge.” He broadcast on the master frequency, “Attack, and show no mercy. Celestia is with us. Kill her enemies, and cleanse this land!” “I’ve crushed Nightmare Moon’s rebellion,” he boasted. Stepping close to his trap, he recalled, “That is all you wanted.” He leaned his horn into the boundary of the prism and caught a wandering ray of his sovereign’s energy. “Almost all you wanted,” he insinuated. “Now I am here, and you have won. I don’t want any more of this war,” she asserted. “Not after those nightsiders have made you what they wanted,” he countered. “They tried to take everything from me.” Celestia breathed deeply, and confessed, “They did nothing for you to avenge. I—I killed your mother, not them. Every awful thing that happened to you was me, not them. I’m sorry. Please let them live, and I’ll be yours, whatever you want to do with me.” A strange thought crossed her mind, that she might not really be available to offer herself, but she did not voice it. She only said, “I’m sorry for everything.” “That was you?!” General blurted. His eyes darted back and forth inside their golden sockets as he processed the new information and connected his scattered thoughts. After a pause, he said, “Thank you.” He could see in her surprise that Celestia did not understand what he meant. He elaborated cynically, “The worst thing that could happen to me is to be mollycoddled, or homesick, or do something stupid like find true love. You set me free, you gave me a chance to take my destiny.” “You should never have had to endure all the pain and spite I forced on you. You don’t have to be what I turned you into.” She looked with compassion on the pierced and wounded colt trapped in his prison of armor. “You don’t want to be like me—I don’t want to be like that anymore,” she disagreed ruefully. She pleaded with him insistently, and even smiled, “I found a hope for us. You can change. You can undo what I did to you.” “Why?” he responded with disdain. “You made me better—then I made me a god, by my will. I’ll punish the heretics, even if that includes you. What happened to you? I wanted to finally tame you, but you disappoint me again. You’ve already been tamed! I must have stolen your indomitable spirit. Perhaps you passed more of yourself to me than you wished. The strong will die before they submit. Now I am the strongest, but you are weak!” “Would you submit to love?” she implored. “Love is a joke, you taught me that,” he shot back. She shook her head. “I was wrong. I was drowning in my own will, but then I gave myself over to love.” “You know how you used to manipulate me—with power, not this simpering drivel,” he sneered. “Then stop the fighting because you need me to raise the sun,” she tried to correct. “I can make you do anything,” he scoffed. “I’ll find the real Celestia in you, or you’re dead to me.” The Lunar army had finally been driven from the city; forced up the side of the triple mountain, they had taken what little shelter was offered by the scattered pines and boulders to make a last stand protecting their leader’s magical endeavor. The third Lunar ship had made its defensive circuit, and returned heavily damaged. The fourth was just turning back as Celestia suddenly appeared with the day. In the fresh light and turn of events, the Solar troops balked at the edge of the rubble. The battle paused with confusion at the sight of the Solar Empress emerging from the Lunar lines. Tentative hope was held out that the bloodshed was finished. Just as suddenly as it stopped, the fighting resumed as the Imperial forces pushed forward once again. The remnants of the NLRA no longer had anything to guard, and would have escaped sideways along the mountainside, but the enemy tanks had driven around the city and moved to cut them off. The fourth Lunar vessel presented a conspicuous target in the morning sun. It soon took hits and fell onto the slope. The crew managed to vent the gases and prevent it from becoming a deadly fireball, but it was little consolation; the armada continued to viciously pound the hulk. The Rough Riders had mixed with other units in front of the cave’s gate. The enemy infantry tested their new line, but did not make a full assault across the exposed ground, matching their foes in seeking out what cover the landscape had to offer. They would hold the Lunars in a protracted shootout until the tanks arrived. The country crack-shots got the better of the exchange in the brief window before their inevitable destruction. The Imperials managed to set up a machine gun in the rocks opposite the Apples’ position and threatened to keep them helplessly pinned down as armor approached. Applejack waited and listened in her crater-foxhole. She watched the approaching tank with building fear—would it arrive before she could do as she planned? The machine gun fell silent while the Solars fed in a new belt of ammo. “Now!” she barked, and sprinted with Big Mac across open ground. They reached the shelter of a large boulder just as the enemy fire resumed. The Apples unslung their weapons and Applejack leaned her rifle on the top of the rock. She looked back to make eye contact with Pinkie Pie, who peeked apprehensively out the side of the barricade. A mechanical rumble grew louder and brought the clack of tread. To her brother’s surprise, the major threw down her prized hat. Pinkie understood, and with a shout she jumped up in the air, throwing out confetti. The machine gun turned its wrath to her position as Applejack came above her cover to take steady aim. She released her breath and pulled the trigger. The gunner below fell back from his weapon. Big Mac got up and shouldered the rocket launcher. His wound made him wince, and his usually steady hoof shook. The tank drove up past the boulder and started the ignition on its flamethrower. At the last moment, the missile burst into flight briefly and exploded against the vehicle. The tank sputtered and went silent. The crew scrambled out of the smoke filled interior, and Big Mac laid aside the launcher in favor of the Solar submachine gun he had taken. As Applejack watched the tank commander struggling to lift the injured driver out of the death trap, she could only think of Rainbow Dash. She put out a hoof to stop her brother, saying, “Not this time.” Then they ducked back down as another enemy took hold of the deadly gun below them. Luna, Twilight and Rainbow Dash were surprised to find the fight so near to them, but joined the stand in front of the mountain’s gate. Luna was too conspicuous a target, and was compelled to shelter behind her wrecked vessel. She was tired from holding the sun, but could still contribute to the defense with her magic. For a moment she quickly appeared around the prow and rolled a threatening tank backwards down the mountainside. After that, however, she drew so much fire that she was unable to show herself again. She had done as she ought, but now, it seemed, all was lost. She began to consider whether she could lead the enemy to pursue her away from her loyal troops. The Imperial fleet moved forward and prepared to carpet bomb the trapped troops. The weakened Lunar ships charged out boldly with the thought that their Princess might somehow escape, but such a maneuver would be short lived. Captain Dash and Twilight hunkered behind a low rise, still identifying with the Solar soldiers and unsure how to act. As the attack intensified, Twilight began helping the few NLR unicorns stop the bullets that rained down on their position so that fewer ponies would die before the battle ended. To her dismay, the Rough Riders around her took advantage of the shelter she provided to take steady and confident aim against their attackers. Twilight yelled out to no one, “Why doesn’t it stop?!” After a moment holding her ground in the face of the continuing madness, a blue streak impacted the ground beside her. Rainbow Dash flew out from her hiding place and pulled her friend down into cover before the sniper could zero in with a second magic round. Twilight raised her voice over the din of battle, “Something’s wrong! It should have stopped by now!” “Yeah,” Rainbow agreed, “What’s taking Celestia so long? Won’t Shining Armor listen to her?” “I don’t know, but he’s my brother, and I should be up there,” Twilight said with gathering resolve. “This obviously isn’t our battlefield. Go, I’ll be right behind you!” Dash launched up vertically out of the chaos towards the Imperial Sovereignty. After lining up on the moving target, Twilight exerted herself to teleport across the wide gap into the command deck. Rainbow Dash arrived on the deck just after Twilight reached the ship. A machine gunner covering the top of the vessel trained the weapon on her but held off the trigger at the sight of Dash’s solar insignia. The gunner turned back and fired a volley at the Lunar pegasi who dodged about, escorting the last of the torpedoes. Dash ran over to him and shouted, “Stop shooting, idiot!” before bucking him away across the deck. Before anyone on deck could react, she had disappeared down a hatch into the interior of the vessel. Twilight saw an unfamiliar room materialize around her and—Celestia, somehow imprisoned! She took a step toward her Princess before a purple light caught her from the side. The General slammed her into the wall with an intense burst of levitating magic. She fell to the floor and was unable to rise. “I knew you’d come back, sis!” he growled. “Why did you have to ruin her for me?” he motioned to his disavowed ruler. “I’ll find a way to fix her, but I guess if I’m going to get you back I’m going to have to kill all your Lunar friends.” He extended a blade from his leg guard and put it against her neck. “Say uncle, sis. I would have had a special place in my empire for you. Now look what you’ve done. I don’t want to have to kill my little sister, but if you’re a traitor you’re not family.” Rainbow Dash burst into the room. “What are you doing to Twilight?!” Dash exclaimed. Her temper flared up and her protective instinct kicked in; she drew Applejack’s pistol and picked up speed. Rainbow Dash galloped straight for the General, firing shot after shot. The golden General braced himself and took every hit unflinching. The bullets ricocheted off his formidable armor. “She’s mine, not yours!” he declared. He lowered his horn and pulled Dash through the air. Combined with her momentum, the pull sent her towards the cruel spike at blinding speed. Captain Dash drew on her martial arts training she had received as an elite Solar Pathfinder. She twisted through the air and brought a flying karate kick down on the villain’s head. She had never delivered a kick this fast on something this hard. General Armor fell sideways and Dash bounced to the front of the room. She winced at the searing pain in her hind leg. The general growled and squinted through his blood. The metal warrior regained his hooves and hurled a violent wave of magic energy at her. Dash pulled herself behind a control panel as the floor behind her tore open and a pane of the command deck’s window blew out. Dash peeked around the other side of the console to assess the situation, shooting a glance from the fallen Twilight to the trapped Princess. “You should be the last to betray me, Loyalty!” he fumed. She ducked back as another blast ripped by. She flew up and towards the General, who swiped at her with a heavy hoof. She rolled around him in mid-flight and reached out for the button in front of the disenchanting prism. A second blow caught her in the chest and sent her smashing back to the deck, but she had met her objective. The flashing ribbons of blue light evaporated and the bars pulled back into the floor. The General now stood facing an indignant Celestia. As she lit her horn, he levitated an “Even Justice” to himself from a hidden compartment. It snapped into his hooves and he seized on the trigger in an instant. A pink flash mixed with the fire from the muzzle of the rifle; Twilight stood firm where she had appeared and stared him down until her eyes rolled back. She tumbled to the ground and rejoined the streak of blood that stained the deck behind her. “Twily, I—“ the General stammered, holding the smoking gun to the side in a moment of disbelief. Suddenly he glared up at Celestia and shouted, “You did this!” He chambered another dragon bullet, but not fast enough. Celestia quickly cast a simple spell on him. Small objects fell to the floor—bloody nails—and he also dropped the gun involuntarily as the muscles in his leg spasmed. The armor plating fell from his front leg and shoulder. “No—no!” he stammered as he understood. The reborn Princess stepped toward him and gently unraveled him with her magic. More nails and cruel hooks lifted out from his skin and screws turned backwards. The massive metal scales slid off of him and clanged to the floor; he collapsed as he was exposed. The blade of his horn was set in the bone. He was in agony as she heated it to that she could safely pull it out. She stood over Twilight and looked down at him. “Shining Armor, I release you. The part of me that I put in you by force, I’m taking back.” She leaned over and touched her horn to his, inducing it to glow. They endured an awful, intimate sharing of minds and magic. The light that welled up from him disappeared into her horn as she called to everything in him that belonged to her. At last, within the light, streaks of darkness emerged, and Celestia shuddered as she repossessed them. She disengaged, leaving him almost lifeless, though she knew he would survive. “I won’t let you die because of me,” she told him, and looked down at Twilight with tears. “And you can’t either!” She picked up her faithful student and exerted all of her magic energy to keep the waning life in her hooves from fading. Reaching into the body with her feelings, she kept blood from leaving the veins, made the heart keep beating, and pumped the lungs. Still concentrating on her fragile armful she opened her wings and flew out into the war-torn sky. Dash picked herself back up and watched her stricken superiors depart. Regaining herself from waves of sadness, she pounced on the radio and broadcast, “By orders of Princess Celestia, all batteries hold fire! Stop shooting! Close the bomb bay doors and hold position!” Celestia’s majestic presence swooped in between the battle lines and implored the Solar troops to desist. She darted from tanks to charging soldiers, still cradling the purple unicorn and wailing, “Stop dying! Stop dying!” Her booming voice carried her eerie and mournful cry all around the mountainside. The gunshots dropped off, battle cries and orders died to a hush, and engines shifted to neutral. Both sides stood in shock as Luna stepped into the open to meet her distraught sister. Luna brought them down to where the NLR medics took shelter from the soldiers that had been overrunning them. The fighters on both sides held their weapons uncertainly as their leaders disappeared together without explanation. Luna emerged shortly to mount the blasted wreck and announce above the stilled carnage, “The war is over! Tend to the wounded! Drop your guns and tend to the wounded!” Fault in the MendChapter 41 As scheduled, it was a clear day in Canterlot. The only clouds to be seen were sky homes that had been relocated to the clean air on the north side of the mountain. The Imperial Palace gleamed in the sun. The Solar standards flowing from its spires were joined by one which showed the moon instead. A great throng was gathered in the wide mall by the gate. Guards watched over the murmuring crowd which waited with excitement and concern. The eminent speakers were to appear any moment and give their address. It would be uncharacteristic of Premier Luna to be late for such an event, and to prevent this she finally intruded into the resident ruler’s private quarters. She found Princess Celestia staring doubtfully into the mirror, still devoid of the vestments of her authority. “Are you prepared?” Luna asked. “Almost,” Celestia answered hesitantly, but remained motionless. The other alicorn matched her stillness and stood expectantly. Their manes flowed naturally by their own energy. Celestia glanced at her sister’s insistent eyes in the mirror. She acquiesced, and turned from her self-examination. She approached the pedestal which held the golden crown of her realm. She moved as if she would pick it up, but stopped. She pushed it back and looked away. Luna observed her carefully. She tilted her own crowned head and said, “You act as though it will bite you. Unless you had it enchanted…” she waited for Celestia to shake her head. “Then what can it do? It will not turn you into a monster just to put it on.” “Won’t it though?” Celestia returned apprehensively. “You would not appear again as Nightmare Moon.” “That is different,” the other royal claimed. “She was a terror to all. But half of our world reveres and loves Empress Celestia, so we need her now.” “You don’t mean that! I’m different now,” Celestia disavowed her old self. “She’s no good for anyone. I could never bear to be her again. We need her to be gone forever.” “Of course,” Luna acknowledged understandingly. Still she urged, “Come, take up your crown. When I returned, I realized I must wear my burden and be the one to care for our citizens before myself. After all you have done, Princess, it is your responsibility to repair all that you can.” Celestia took a deep breath. Her necklace laid itself on her shoulders and the crown of the Solar Empire rested against her horn. She stepped into her greaves—one, two, three, four—and it was finished. It was so easy and so familiar. She was relieved; her inner transformation was far more real than any ill effects of the golden ornaments. They were simply tools that would help her accomplish what was right. The true bite came when she saw the fear in Luna’s eyes. The moon Princess tried to shake herself of the irrational reaction, but it was inevitable as she beheld the completed picture of her dreaded enemy. For so long, every time they had seen each other was horrible. Celestia bowed away, taking a low and unintimidating stance. Luna rebuked herself and softened her unwelcoming gaze; it was only what she had asked for. Celestia asked, “Do you forgive me?” “It seems you have been forgiven, and I am learning to accept that. What you have done cannot be undone, but Harmony will allow me to hold no hatred for you,” Luna said coolly. “If that were not so I would not have agreed to this alliance, but I know we are doing the right thing for Equestria.” “Is that all you’re here for?” the jeweled white alicorn prodded almost wistfully. “The good of Equestria?” It was close to the truth, but the republican Princess tactfully returned, “What do you wish that I had come for?” “Luna, you’ve called me everything but ‘sister’.” Celestia finally asked, “Do you care about me? Do you want me?” Luna answered thoughtfully but frankly, “I have always wanted a big sister. I felt safe when you were near—but that was a very long time ago. That trust was betrayed, and I have grown. I do not desire your protection.” She continued more hopefully, though in an almost mournful tone, “I do desire a sister who would be the kind of friend who would understand me and stay with me. We go on so long and lose so many. I wish I could trust you to be that sister, but this is hard and will only come in time.” “I know I don’t deserve it. It wasn’t anything I did to be better. Please, do you forgive me?” Celestia begged. “Yes,” Luna said. “I did not deserve to be fixed either. I forgive you, Celestia my sister.” Tears welled up in Celestia’s eyes and her feelings pulled her forward. She looked up into her little sister’s face as she approached her with the affection she had restrained. As she loomed towards Luna, the smaller Princess tensed apprehensively, but held her ground and prepared to endure the embrace like a good soldier. Celestia shied away disappointed; she would not force herself on poor Luna. Her tears continued as she declined the emotional release. “Thank you,” she genuinely expressed. She had no right to expect more than she had received. There was still no one to whom she could show her new love without hurting them. She walked to the door of the chamber and stared into space, trying to collect herself to make her public appearance. She took deep breaths recalled the speech she had prepared, only to ward off other thoughts. Something brushed up against her side. To her surprise, it was Luna, standing next to her and leaning against her gently. The royal blue alicorn looked up at her and reasoned, “It would take us a great deal of time to become close if we never started.” They shared a long, nervously tender gaze. Celestia made no move for fear of pressing too far; instead she gratefully absorbed the wild outburst of affection that was offered. They allowed their hearts to lighten as they enjoyed the first peace of the day. “Now may our country heal with us,” Luna signaled, and they left together. A great fanfare sounded in the square and the citizens fell silent. The two rulers appeared on the broad balcony of a low tower by the gate. “All hail Celestia, Empress of the Rising Sun, and Luna, Premier of the New Lunar Republic,” a herald proclaimed. All in the crowd performed a gesture of fealty before bowing, as was custom, though some were slower than usual. They had only been reintroduced to Luna in the past couple of months. The Imperial propaganda machine ran itself, and it was only with great difficulty that the stubborn media was persuaded to turn the moon Princess a favorable eye. Celestia determined to speak her own heart, and at her direction the usual teleprompters were gone. She waved to those gathered below, and her subjects rose. “Greetings, we have been blessed with another day,” she began. “Peace be with you. Nightmare Moon is gone; all that remains is my sister Luna,” she said, turning momentarily to add tenderly to the one beside her, “who I love.” Again in a loud voice she reassured the populace, “It was she who helped restore me to you, so the night is truly no longer to be feared.” “I thank all who have fought for me and for you. Those who died on either side did as they knew best to save our world. Let us strive to honor their sacrifice by uniting this broken land and reconciling with our fellow ponies so that Equestria will not again be torn by magical or military turmoil. To this end, what has been split in recent years will be one again, so that “Lunar Republic” and “Solar Empire” will not be heard, but only “Equestria”. We will grow not by force but by friendship.” “How can we be friends with those who defy you!” an upstanding unicorn called out, and those near him assented. A pegasus guard flew over their heads and held his traditional lance threateningly over the interrupting pony. It was only an empty threat by recent decree. The unicorn seemed to offer himself up to the arcane weapon in a glad acceptance of his fate. In the past, such an offense could be punished with immediate death—but the correct form of flattery could also earn rewards. Without thinking, Celestia responded genuinely, “As Luna has forgiven me.” The whole crowd took a breath in shock before they began to murmur. “…and I have forgiven her,” she quickly “corrected”, feigning the same sincerity. She offered a silent apology to Luna, who only partially contained her irritation. She held out a hoof to silence the crowd, and firmly continued, “In a year’s time, I and Princess Luna will preside together over the Republic of Equestria so that we will together remain strong and sensitive to the common good.” The sun worshipers reacted with horror to the displacement of their goddess from her exclusive pedestal. As the previous outburst had gone unpunished, they brazenly shouted, “No! Celestia is all! The good of Celestia is the good of all!” Many gave a gesture that was new among the more spiritual which offered their souls to their beautiful deity. “Cease this!” she ordered, but her voice was more regretful than commanding. “Don’t do that. I’m sorry I deceived you that way,” she almost pleaded. “Harmony is worth your praise.” She had already disavowed herself in her cathedral, but it was as if they did not hear her. “Nightmare Moon forces her hoof! Rise for your goddess!” incited an instigator as the throng turned to an uproar. “SILENCE!” Princess Celestia burst out in a voice that shook the mall. For a moment the sun doubled its intensity as it glared down angrily upon the crowd. Searing light poured down from the sky and out of her eyes. A heat wave swept over them. “DO NOT CONTRADICT ME!” the voice threatened. At the sunflash, the multitude reeled back in shock and strong discomfort. Startled fear quickly shifted to grim resolve on Luna’s face, and she tensed as if she might defend herself. The light in Celestia’s eyes faded and she glanced nervously about. She backed up a few steps, retreating from her own show of force. Awestruck citizens bowed in repentance and paid homage to their deity. She was ashamed of their misplaced worship and her crown seemed painfully heavy. But there was no one else to stop them; certainly Luna could not. Celestia forced herself to repossess her heavenly authority for just a little longer as she almost desperately motioned for them to stop. Just as they had managed to still the crowd a shot was fired from the audience. Celestia stood motionless in the path of the bullet. Luna had sensed something and reacted quickly to block the round, which proved doable. It was no special assassin’s weapon, just an average gun. Its plain-looking owner held his gun boldly above the crowd and fired another shot. The moon Princess defended her ally again. Security rushed to take down the assailant, but before they could the crowd of fanatics had turned on him and swallowed him up in a beating, stomping mass. Only now did Celestia react; she flew out towards the spot where her attacker fell and boomed, “No!” over the riotous ponies. They dispersed as she dropped to the ground beside a very bloody and very dead colt. Security surrounded the Princess as she picked up the mangled corpse and looked into its vacant eyes. Luna followed her to the spot and sat down beside her. “Are you alright?” She took in the expression and solitary tear from her estranged sibling before asking differently. “Sister, do you mourn for him? You really are new to me.” “Me too.” The white one collected her thoughts and expressed, “I’m not afraid of him, I’m afraid of them.” She motioned to the crowd with Solar banners being held back at a distance. “I just thought the last one had burst already.” Luna thought, “That must be one of those bubble references I still do not get.” This was a bad foreboding against the future stability of a united Equestria. “I am tired of these power struggles, but the ponies are not. Experience has taught them that authority comes from power.” “You mean I taught them that,” Celestia reacted. “Do not take it that way. You cannot put it all on yourself, you are different now,” Luna tried to reassure her. “So what do we do?” she asked, still distraught. “All we can do is try to show them that they should only accept authority that comes from justice.” “But we’re not doing that right now,” Celestia countered bitterly. “We are leading now because we are the ones who can, and not because we should be the ones. I shouldn’t be. We need to have the trials. We can’t make a real government unless me and all my monsters take responsibility for what we did. The general almost followed me well enough to destroy the world, but he wasn’t the only one like him.” “But Celestia!” her concerned sister objected. “That would mean you would have to stand trial. I know you’re not the same pony, but how can we prove that? How could you survive through HER trial?” “I don’t know how, but I have to,” the conflicted alicorn declared. “The goddess has to die.” Goddess on TrialChapter 42: A Goddess on Trial The laws of Equestria, as they were over a thousand years before, were to be the standard for the trials. These laws were the last to be agreed upon by all the powers in Equestria, and were not tainted with the ways of the dark times over whose deeds they would now preside. The actual trial was to be conducted as swiftly as possible and with all necessary measures for public safety. It was to take place during the course of one night, if possible, so that the former Princess would not be needed to raise the sun during proceedings and therefore have an opportunity to escape. Celestia rode to the Unified National Courthouse in Canterlot in a covered carriage that shielded her from large, unruly crowds that lined the roads as she rode by. Despite her guards, there was some disruption in security before they were underway that allowed a group of teenage colts to vandalize the carriage. “Trollestia” was spray-painted in blood red on the side, then crossed out and replaced with “Killestia” and “Molestia.” “Soul-snatcher” was perhaps the mildest label, accompanied by various other words which made her realize that the Equestrian language could be far more vulgar than she had previously thought. She had turned down offers to make other transportation arrangements, and it was from this verbal collage that she emerged at her destination. Opposing mobs were held at bay by the security perimeter. A sign from one side read “I Detestia”. On the other side, a robed figure wailed, “Fools! Do not insult the goddess! You will all burn! You will not be admitted to the afterlife!” From the approach to the courthouse, Celestia could see what was meant by “all necessary measures” even in the fading light: the “Even Justice” rifles of the rooftop snipers were there to protect their namesake in the face of a defendant that would be difficult to control if she resisted. She was ushered past a gauntlet of cameras and crystal balls into the side door of the marble edifice. As she took her seat in the courtroom the wire frame and flickering lights of a disenchanting prism suddenly closed around her. The judge, a stately, bifocaled old colt, glanced up from the materials he was reviewing and explained, “A necessary precaution, I’m afraid.” The prosecutor smiled, pleased that his suggestions as to security had been taken seriously. Why, to think what could happen should such a magician become violent under accusations and sentencing… To speed the trial, some unusual arrangements had been made. Due to the scope of the inquiry, the witnesses involved were numerous, especially those called by the prosecution, and they filled half of the courtroom floor. They would all be available to offer testimony and be cross-examined at any relevant time. Celestia had called for her friends and acquaintances from when she was Dusk: Twilight, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Rarity, Applejack, and Trixie. Celestia had also requested Doctor Redheart and several experts on magical artifacts. The prosecution had filled hundreds of seats with nervous, mortified victims; grim, worn soldiers; and politicians whose expressions were unreadable. Both sides had asked Luna to testify, and she agreed to both. Luna entered the courtroom once again. She had already faced her trial and was still Princess and Premier. Nightmare Moon’s atrocity had already been punished with a thousand years of exile by the revered Elements. She had been charged with numerous lesser offenses since then, and cleared of most of these. Imperial and Republic intelligence reports surfaced that removed most of the suspicion that had been cast on her by the media. Luna was convicted of infringing on the rights of her citizens, bypassing the Senate’s authority on important matters, and knowingly issuing orders with terrible consequences. However, in all of this she was more than vindicated. She was the one who gave her citizens rights as such, and had breached their freedoms to protect their lives. She was the one who purposefully lessened her own authority by founding her state as a republic, and had only acted outside of her role in moments of immediate need. While it was not always clear that she had made the right decisions, Celestia had forced her into terrible dilemmas more than once. The trial served to address the misgivings the ponies of the old Solar Empire had about her and to introduce them to her noble character for the first time. Now vested with authority and privilege in the new Republic of Equestria, she entered the arena to fill a different role. She was a witness; she was security; and she was the keeper of certain items of material evidence. She had brought a led-lined steel case from the Vault and now willed it to roll in front of her as she crossed the room and took her seat front and center of the floor. Twilight Sparkle attempted to keep up with the Princess, but she was stuck in a wheelchair and a tight ball of supporting friends. The tubes in her nostrils led to an attached pump that hummed softly as it assisted her breathing. She had not been able to attend Luna’s trial, but she was finally discharged from the hospital before this more dire examination. Some doctors said that she would never be able to live a normal life, but she and her friends would not accept that. Rainbow Dash hovered over the wheelchair. “I know I said it before, Twilight, but that is an awesome scar! It has an epic scar story, too.” Twilight looked up and added weakly, “It was a much better story with you in it.” “No problem, just saving the world!” the heady captain bragged with her chest out. Her friends gave her a stare. Applejack adjusted her hat and looked up from pushing Twilight. “You know, saving the world with all of you guys,” Dash corrected. They filed into their seats in the front row next to Luna. Twilight turned to the Princess as much as she could. “Who’s on the case, are they good enough—” she paused for her lungs to fill, “What are her chances?” The Princess’s eyes darted from judge to prosecutor before following Twilight’s insistent hoof to a vacant booth. “Oh, the defense attorney…” Luna remembered, and met the unicorn’s worried gaze to inform seriously, “He was very good. Celestia and he could not agree. I tried to stop her, but she dismissed him. She has decided to represent herself; due to her standing, she is allowed this, but I do not think it is wise.” She moved on to review and evaluate the other players, directing her attention to the judge. “It was difficult to find a judge who is not biased, but I believe Thoroughgood only wants to uphold the principles of justice.” His black robe spilling out around the edges of his high podium, Judge Thoroughgood was an imposing sight, but there was something gentle in his eyes. Though his garment hid his markus adeptus, any who saw him could easily envision the fair scale on his flank. His mane had fallen out, and his exposed forehead held layers of wrinkles earned in heavy consideration. Together with his enormous white beard, these features gave him the appearance of a being that had been left behind by the guile and turmoil of the past centuries. “He believes justice itself is the highest goal, and that the law is its manifestation. He was also well suited for this case because of his studies of history.” Luna finally permitted herself to consider the only pony who truly wanted to be seen in that courtroom—the prosecuting attorney. “That is Friedrich Champion. He is one of the most fiery products of my egalitarian legal reforms. He sees it as his duty to protect the weak by punishing the guilty. He no doubt intends to earn lasting fame and cement his reputation as a great voice for the common pony by tearing down the power that he distrusts.” They eyed the young lawyer as he stood proudly in a blue suit. His dark mane was styled with an overabundance of product to form a bristle of spikes; it could have been taken to be comical. In this setting however, as he stared doggedly at his target, its jagged, swept-back contour gave him an aggressive appearance Applejack said what they were both thinking. “So they’re too good? That’s too bad.” “Before the trial commences it is necessary to commit certain facts to record,” the judge solemnly addressed the crowd. Though it was just as much for the benefit of the cameras, he did not deign to look at these upstart technological intrusions into the ancient and hallowed realm of his beloved justice. “It has been suggested that this trial is meaningless because this court is unable to punish the defendant, should she be found guilty. This presumed inability stems from the fact that the defendant, the former Princess or Empress Celestia, is required to fully raise the sun and sustain life on this world at its current level. Death, or removal of magical capacity, would prevent this requirement from being met and is clearly untenable. Banishment or imprisonment of any form which did not address the preeminent magical power of the defendant could be circumvented by said power. It is agreed that in such circumstances the defendant could force her release by refusing to raise the sun until her every demand, not limited to freedom, were met. It has been claimed that this court is incompetent to issue a verdict on one whom it depends for existence. The court admits that a verdict of not guilty would also be invalid should the court be found incapable of ruling otherwise. “In light of this, many scientific and magical experts have been consulted to devise a method of punishment that could be implemented so that this trial may proceed with integrity. A combination of potions and forcibly administered therapies has emerged which could place any recipient in a semi-conscious, suggestible state. In this state the subject is unable to employ willpower or faculties of reason, but can be made to perform tasks on command. This process does not interfere with the magical endowment of that individual, so the defendant could be made to raise the sun from such a state. This process can be administered daily to extend this state over any period that is desired. The maximum penalty that can be enforced would be to put the defendant in this state indefinitely. It is to be noted that the permanent removal of thought from an individual is tantamount to intellectual death.” All present are now made aware that this court is capable and willing to uphold any verdict that it may reach. The trial is now commenced.” Then came the prosecution’s opening statement: “Now that the great monster of our times has been brought to light, we have the chance to show that justice truly applies to all, and that we need not live in fear of any. A great number of witnesses have been gathered to testify against the would-be goddess Celestia, but rest assured, many more could have been found. Indeed some of the events in question have been observed by and have affected nearly everpony in Equestria. With the magnitude and number of charges on hoof, many significant charges will not be mentioned. The prosecution will claim as its mission only to produce the most solid and severe charges, which are the best-documented and will determine sentencing. I beg the defense not to contest many of these cases, which are undeniable. In so doing, many of her helpless and ashamed victims, whose testimony is of the most fragile nature, will be spared further humiliation.” “Yes. You’re right,” was her short and resigned opening statement. “I don’t want to hurt them any more,” she said regretfully from her glowing cage. Luna and Twilight whispered to each other with concern. “Yes? Any more?” the judge inquired. He adjusted his glasses to peer over them with surprised eyes. “Not to be condescending, but the defendant is aware that anything she says will most certainly be used against her?” “I know.” Capitalizing on the moment, Friedrich pushed, “In order to spare the witnesses and complete the trial within the safe time period, the prosecution moves for the charges to be considered in sum, instead of separately, as one somewhat malleable charge.” Judge Thoroughgood pointed out, “That is quite a shortcut, and may affect sentencing a great deal; however the defense must agree to these terms.” “I agree,” Celestia responded quickly. “They should be considered in sum, with one punishment.” The judge acknowledged the movement and signaled, “Let the defendant then be accused.” The prosecutor produced a long list, and with his chest out, began, “The defendant, former Princess or Empress Celestia of the Solar Empire, is charged with innumerable charges including but not limited to—“ Champion drew a deep breath and ran the edge of his hoof theatrically across the entries, to suggest the magnitude of what was omitted, “—at least twenty-five counts of kidnapping and statutory rape; at least three counts of murder in the first degree; at least thirteen counts of murder in the second degree; at least three hundred forty counts of negligent ponicide; as well as war crimes: at least three counts of pointless attacks on civilian populations during military operations; and at least seventeen counts of international terrorism against targets not holding military, governmental, or industrial significance. Finally, although this is not a legally defined charge, the defendant’s demand of worship as a deity has resulted in massive philosophical and psychological damage to Equestria.” Thoroughgood squinted as if pained and allowed a moment of silence for the casualties of these fell deeds. He then resumed his impartially watchful demeanor and proceeded, “How do you plead to these charges? Which charges do you wish to contest?” In a soft voice, but not quietly, Celestia replied, “I will not contest them your honor. I committed all of these crimes and more.” The judge raised his bushy eyebrows. “You have brought many witnesses and some evidence, but you have not called upon any of them. What is the meaning of this? Are you at this point pleading guilty, voluntarily and intelligently?” “I am guilty,” she admitted, “but you can’t punish me.” He squinted at her, this time with consternation. Surely she understood what he had already stated about the new punishment that was available. “I am not sure what you mean. May I remind you of the precedent that has been established before this trial. This court has already convicted many high officials and officers of the former Solar Empire of crimes against Equestria and has therefore sentenced them to the most severe of punishments.” There were angry murmurs in the crowd and the bailiff indicated that the judge should make some concessions to the former Imperials on behalf of the court. “It is irrelevant to this matter,” the judge griped as he digressed, “but the court is forced to note that a few members of the former Lunar Republic have also been convicted of such crimes.” He continued from his previous statement: “The records show that some of these individuals claimed that they acted under your orders, and you yourself have attested to this fact. You yourself have claimed that you were responsible for creating a state of affairs that made such incidents inevitable. You have also confessed to a multitude of additional charges; these crimes being too numerous to repeat here despite their gravity. Since the court has administered the fullest punishment to individuals who were accused of lesser crimes and acted under your authority, how can the court now administer any lesser punishment in your case?” “A crime can only be punished once,” she said matter-of-factly. “That is true. After any court has carried out a sentence for a crime, further punishment may not be meted out again by any other court for the same crime. However, this does not pertain to your case, unless you are prepared to ENLIGHTEN the court and demonstrate otherwise,” he said with returning frustration and clear contempt. The use and emphasis of enlighten was an obvious jab at the former ruler, who had nearly redefined the word by her constant use of it. “I was already punished,” she stated calmly. “I was stripped of my power and killed for doing all these things, just like I deserved. That’s what started the second war.” The judge was not used to this line of reasoning and thought for a while before responding, “Do you mean to refer to the magical incident in the palace that temporarily caused you to be unable to raise the sun? The cause of it has not been determined, although it has been deemed by all experts to be so concerted an event that it cannot be an accident. An unknown force intentionally disabled you and caused your removal from power. In this new defense, you must therefore claim this mysterious force as a court.” “I do.” Thoroughgood found this point interesting enough to explore despite the other absurd elements of the claim. The prosecutor gritted his teeth, holding himself back to allow the respected judge to satisfy his curiosity. “While it would be difficult to justify this definition in technical and legal terms, pure reason shows that a greater force than yourself did pass some sort of selective judgment on you. Additionally, while this court cannot approve of an entity of which it knows nothing, the facts do demand the court’s respect. This entity’s actions have caused the reunification of Equestria and placed you and others who were above the law under the power of this court, displaying principles of universal justice. Although this kind of talk is not usually permitted in legal proceedings, in the face of all that has transpired, this court simply does not have the faith to deny the existence of higher courts than itself. Therefore this court recognizes this entity as worthy of consideration as a court. However, it is not understood that the defendant has been in fact punished.” Champion’s veins bulged as Thoroughgood still refused to acknowledge the obvious. “The removal from power of the defendant by the entity could be assessed as purely an intervention for the sake of the world to prevent further wrongdoing. It could be likened to apprehending a suspect and detaining the suspect until a trial could be held. In this view of the matter, the judgment of the ‘previous court’ is to deliver the defendant to this court for trial.” Judge Thoroughgood was quite flattered that the discussion framed him as the mediator chosen by a higher justice. “Although this line of defense has been fascinating to consider, this court does not find the grounds to say that the defendant has already been punished.” “OBJECTION! The defendant has just claimed that she is DEAD!” the prosecutor snapped, gesturing at Celestia as if at a loss for words. This outburst brought the old judge back from his intellectual musings. He returned to that part of Celestia’s statement which he would not have even dignified with an answer in any lesser circumstances. “True, true. The defense will of course be FORCED to concede that you have not been punished with death, since you are not dead.” “I don’t concede,” the great alicorn cryptically replied. “But you must,” the judge insisted. “How can you take this position?” She explained, “When most of me melted and boiled away at the palace, and I was left exposed—however much of me that is left from before—the sunlight burned me. From that point I could feel myself burning up slowly, and I continued to die from the inside with no hope of recovery. So the punishment that was given to me was death.” The wrinkly old colt inquired, “Well, I do recall hearing something of these curious details, but how can you be so certain of your condition? I cannot accept your opinion as such, of course. The court must know more about the defendant’s health at that time.” Doctor Redheart presented a worn journal to the bailiff, who read the open page aloud. “Medical report, Chief Medical Officer Redheart, NLRA: ‘The patient is in deteriorating health. Numerous undiagnosed pains are reported throughout the body. Stiffness of the joints has increased and the patient has less energy every day. Most disturbingly, the patient has begun to give off white substance that appears to be ash and smells of smoke, to exhibit burns on the skin, and has been observed to cough blood and ash. No condition is known that produces these symptoms. At this time the patient is untreatable and appears to be deteriorating to the point of death.’” “Your honor, while this may be sufficient to establish that this condition was severe, this CLEARLY cannot be considered a fully applied death penalty,” Champion was quick to dismiss. “In the end, the condition was treated in the crystal cave ruins. Therefore, if this is some death sentence that was justly administered by the previous agents, it has been unjustly interrupted by treatment that defeated the intent of the sentence.” “The magic chamber still required death,” Celestia informed. “Since someone would die for my crimes, it was a chance for a pardon, but it didn’t stop my sentence. I could only survive if somepony willingly died in my place.” “A substitutive pardon?” Thoroughgood gave his beard a stroke. “Most unusual. But I was not aware of a requirement for willingness in the operation of the device.” Princess Luna stood up and interjected, “I was in charge at that time and I stated that it would have to be somepony who was willing.” “Witness testimony was not requested!” the judge pointed out, “but this court is invested in the content of what has been said so it will be addressed.” “If I may, your honor,” the prosecutor began, unsure of his place since protocol had been breached. “Despite this requirement from the present authorities, this is not a true willing substitution due to the understood compulsion for somepony to make the substitution. If no one died to revive the defendant, the sun could not remain in the sky and therefore it can be more appropriately seen as a sacrifice for the good of Equestria, as is the interest of soldiers in battle. Might I add that this act by the unicorn, miss Rarity, cannot be a substitution for the death penalty, not only because of the compulsive nature of the situation, but also because Rarity survived unharmed. Only the threat of death was administered, but it was in fact hollow.” Celestia protested, “That’s not true, your honor. I’m really grateful for what Rarity did, but I wasn’t talking about her. Some pony did die. A great alicorn. The author of the book died there for me.” “The book?” Thoroughgood immediately questioned. “Are you referring to the magical artifact that led you to the device? How do we know that what you say occurred?” “We found a page of the book there. When I looked into it, he showed me what he did,” she recalled reverently. “He was a great magician, and I think he built the device. I saw him give his life willingly there. He did it for me, just for me.” The judge inquired with surprise, “This book showed you all that? Did it show this to anyone else?” “No your honor,” she admitted. “Objection! There is no evidence!” the prosecutor decried. “This is merely the defendant’s testimony, and bizarre testimony!” “The objection is upheld,” the judge said, nodding. “The defendant could claim to have seen anything.” “I further object that we do not know if this magic book is reliable,” the suave colt pressed his advantage. “The book is the reason we’re all alive!” Celestia countered, showing her temper for the first time. The judge pointed out, “I do recall from reading the case that using the book in the Vault led to the discovery of the facility wherein her ability to raise the sun was restored.” “Allegedly, your honor, who else saw this, besides the suspect?” Champion insinuated. “No one else read the book, your honor,” Celestia admitted, with a creeping anxiety. “But a page of the book was found there, and I was restored.” “Just a page? How do you know it has anything to do with the book?” Champion again asked doubtfully. “Luna,” she prompted. Luna again stood and reported, “The curators of the Vault have subjected both to sci/magic screening. The materials and approximate age do align. The enchantment on each of them is identical. Nothing about the enchantment besides that could be determined in safe testing. It is of a type unknown to my experts.” She presented documentation from the researcher in charge. The bailiff surveyed the sheets of data and technical jargon and took a breath. “Don’t, don’t read that,” Thoroughgood groaned. “That may be, but the suspect was in custody of the book before that. She could have placed it there…” the prosecutor started to suggest. The judge turned some irritation his way for the first time. “If that is true, that would mean she had prior knowledge of or even involvement in her own downfall. The defense has proved… unpredictable, but I did not think you would resort to such wild speculation.” Champion leaned back from his forward stance and folded his hooves. “Whatever the book showed, Miss Rarity was the one who performed this mock substitution in real life,” he said scornfully. Celestia shook her head slightly. “Rarity tried, but the crystals would not transfer her life into me.” “And again, this is by the defendant’s word?” he prodded. At the judge’s permission, the relevant witnesses spoke. “I’m still here, remember?” Rarity quipped, mildly indignant that she could have been forgotten. Luna testified, “All of us who were there will attest that the operation failed when she was on the receiving platform.” “Then how exactly was the defendant restored?” Thoroughgood asked her. “There was a tremendous energy already at the site,” she recounted. “All the unicorns could sense it, and it caused the attached crystals to glow brightly. However, it could not or would not move while Rarity was present. Only when she was alone under the charged crystal in the sunlight was Celestia restored. Its power flowed into her; after that moment I could no longer perceive an aura from the device and the crystals no longer glowed.” “So the life that was taken did originate in the past, as my sister claims,” Luna summarized. She revealed further, “Experts have dated everything in the cave to the same time period, but the energy felt to me as though it predated that kingdom by a great deal. I do not know if the energy could have been from a pony—though it is perhaps possible that it was from a strange alicorn—but it seemed akin to the Elements of Harmony in some way.” The prosecutor demanded, “How do we know the author intended this for Celestia—who was not born? How could he have been aware of her crimes that she had not yet committed? Without full knowledge and intent, this is nothing like a substitution.” “He knew me,” Celestia spoke surely. “When I first read the book, it accused me, just like I’ve been accused today. I think—no, I know that he is the one who unmade me.” “We don’t know that,” Champion replied, falling back to his familiar position. “The book knew me,” she insisted, and motioned to Twilight. “I opened the book, but I couldn’t see anything,” Twilight spoke carefully. Her voice was quiet, but in her condition no one asked her to repeat herself. “It would only show Celestia.” Luna added, “Indeed, the page we found now holds her image.” Celestia marveled, “He knew me, and knew that I should die for what I’ve done. I didn’t think it was possible for someone like me to be pardoned, but I could not turn down his life.” “He must have been some kind of madcolt!” the prosecutor accused. “He isn’t just at all if he’s letting such a monster go free.” “I thought so at first,” Celestia granted, “but his energy, his heart changed me. I don’t think I could do all those things anymore. He was very wise, but I still can’t fathom such a sacrifice.” “Objection!” Champion yelled. “This court can’t accept such an outrageous substitution! No sacrifice is worth enduring HER!” Thoroughgood pondered all this. “That is certainly worth considering. Is the defense prepared to give an answer?” “I am, your honor. He was a ruler too, and powerful enough to defeat me. The one who saved Equestria from my awful reign is as much of a hero as I am a villain. You don’t have the opportunity to deny the substitution…” she paused and attempted to contain her emotions. “It’s too late to stop the substitution because he has already died.” She stifled sobs. “If you really recognize his judgment, would you hold in contempt a sentence a higher court gave its life to carry out? Will you not honor him?” She shook her head and cried. “It IS an outrageous substitution. I’m not worth his life! I… I don’t deserve this but—will you not honor him?” “Objection,” Champion spoke again, this time with a calm finality. “The identity of this supposed substitute, as well as his status, intent, and even existence are based on HER reading of that book. None of this is factual!” “If I may?” Luna requested from the floor. The judge permitted her. At last she pushed the heavy case into the middle of the room and opened it. Most of its size was due to measures of security and preservation. The book lay closed, resting neatly in an impression in the surrounding foam that prevented it from being jostled. Suddenly the bizarre artifact that was the focus of so much debate was among them. Many in the courtroom took a slight gasp. A weird awe filled the room as everyone stared silently. Some ponies quietly excused themselves. “Friedrich Champion,” she addressed, “if you will not trust her reading of the book, perhaps you wish to examine it yourself.” The proud prosecutor would not easily back down from a challenge. Logically, it would be better for his case for him to read it than for any sympathetic to the defense to do so. He stepped out from behind his booth, and Luna stepped back as he advanced to the enigmatic artifact. He gave the courtroom a confident smile and reached to open the cover. He stopped with his hoof an inch above it. A chill crept up his foreleg. The earth pony could not stand the sight of the golden image on the cover. If what Celestia said was true, it did not show a unicorn but an alicorn, and one who had imposed his will on the whole world—exactly the kind of being Friedrich hated. Now this book, this enchanted thing, was waiting. He turned abruptly and protested, “You can’t bring this in here! This is invalid evidence.” “All precedent would demand that such evidence is valid,” the judge stated. “If we here cannot examine magical individuals, forces, and artifacts, then this court is not even capable of discussing current events.” The prosecutor took a step away from it. “Yes your honor, but it—it isn’t evidence at all! It’s possessed! It could have shown her anything, and it could show anything now!” Thoroughgood acknowledged, “This book does appear to be possessed of some form of intelligence. Just as the Elements of Harmony were recognized as delivering a ruling on Nightmare Moon, it may be considered as a witness as much as evidence. However, in either case, it is relevant to this examination and valid in this courtroom.” Champion closed the thick case. “It’s too dangerous to open in this room. Send it back to the Vault where it belongs!” “A prosecutor is not required to examine evidence personally,” the judge nodded. “I will!” a voice called weakly from the floor. Twilight’s lungs filled back up with a hiss and she offered, “I can open it. I’m not afraid to look into it again.” “Yeah, I can read it too!” Rainbow Dash added, not to be left out of bravery. The other friends each agreed in turn, and Pinkie Pie did so exuberantly. When she remembered the formality of the event she sat back down next to Trixie. “Trixie isn’t going to touch that thing!” the usually brash unicorn announced. “Any of you could be permitted to read it, and be a witness as to its contents,” Thoroughgood allowed. The prosecutor gave the front row a sweeping motion and scolded, “You were all brought by the defendant. They’re biased.” “True,” the judge nodded. “However, this does emphasize that the problem is easily overcome. It would only be most proper for the book to be immediately removed to the evidence rooms and read by impartial investigators, perhaps curators of the Vault.” “No!” Champion cried. His mind raced. He could not allow this extra tyrant in league with Celestia to extend his hooves any further into the present. “It—it’s a menace! It shouldn’t be read at all! Don’t let it be opened ever again! Can’t you feel it? It is too dangerous, too awful!” “Mr. Champion, are you being affected?” Judge Thoroughgood asked with some concern. “Is your ability to prosecute this case compromised? One of your esteemed colleagues may replace you if necessary. Perhaps during the break that would be necessary to review the evidence, you could recover your nerve.” “No, don’t take that recess,” the distressed prosecutor shot back. “It’s not right, don’t let anyone use that thing!” “Are you actually refusing to consider the contents of that book as evidence or testimony?” the judge asked slowly, enunciating clearly. “Yes!” Champion replied hurriedly. “Yes, your honor.” “Are you aware of the ramifications of your refusal?” Thoroughgood asked with some disbelief. “I don’t care!” he claimed. “You do not care? At a crucial point in this case, with so much at stake, you do not care?!” This professed apathy offended the judge like few things could, and his demeanor became very severe. Attaching himself to the judge’s podium the desperate prosecutor continued his impassioned plea. “No! It’s too dangerous! It’s with her! Who knows what it could do.” “Very well,” Thoroughgood said threateningly. The judge pushed the intruding hooves away with his gavel. “Go back to your seat and listen while I explain to the court what you have just done.” He informed the others, “If the prosecution refuses to examine evidence or hear a witness, it must concede the arguments the defense bases upon them. By refusing to consider the basis of the defense’s claims, it loses its power to contest the truth of those claims. Therefore, a number of claims will now be presumed true.” The judge mulled over the state of affairs as they had been left by these events. After some consideration he spoke again: “What is not affected is the defendant’s claim to have been changed. The fact of her renewal is neither based on the contents of the book nor objectively verifiable. It is no more admissible than any defendant’s claims to have turned over a new leaf.” The prosecutor stood back up to nod his agreement. “Moreover, the court can no longer be concerned with these matters due to the fact that punishment has already been delivered for the crimes she is accused of,” the judge concluded. “Celestia, there is no basis for you to be held by any authority except for accusations of crimes committed at any time after your fall from power.” “What! Your honor, how can you do that?” Champion complained impotently. Thoroughgood did not answer but continued, “Of course, for the sake of Equestria, there is no way that you can be permitted to resume your position of authority. That would have occurred if you had been found not guilty. Since you have been convicted of tremendous and devastating abuse of power, it would be gross negligence to the safety of the population to allow you to have political power again in addition to your innate magical power. You are hereby prohibited from holding any political office for the duration of your life. Due to the magnitude of your personal ability, this measure would be ineffective were I not to add that it must be upheld with immediate utmost force without due process should authorities find it necessary for national security. This much may be contended against but I think it will stand: voting, or endorsing a candidate publicly, is also prohibited with lesser punishments, due to your cult following. In direct opposition to traditional Equestrian philosophy, it appears you are now just another pony, who also happens to raise the sun. Oh, I almost forgot, any delay in raising the sun may also be met with immediate force.” “No pressure,” Celestia thought to herself. To Champion’s disbelief, she remained calm and apparently at peace with the ruling. Defeat soured in the prosecutor’s mouth and he grasped for a way to salvage some of his honor—to retaliate. He gave her a cunning glance. “Your honor, shouldn’t the defendant also be prohibited from contact with magical artifacts?” he suggested. “Quite right,” the judge agreed, “access to powerful artifacts is of course a privilege of heads of state and authorized personnel. More importantly, the defendant is not to have contact with any source of further power. Any such contact is fully and immediately punishable.” Despite her reprieve, Celestia found herself suddenly distraught. “But what about the book?” “Oh yes!” the old judge exclaimed. “The book is an excellent example. It has already been proven that, in the right hooves, it can change the fate of our world. When we consider also the Elements of Harmony, it is apparent that magical artifacts have played a pivotal role in crises throughout history. Under no circumstances is the defendant to read, touch, or even be near that book.” “Your honor, please! He wrote that book for me, if I don’t read it—“ she begged. “Silence! This is the sentence of the court, and it is final,” he said, with a pound of his gavel. The judge motioned for exhibit C to be removed from the scene and secured. As Luna locked its case, she told her sister, “I am glad you will remain with us; and as far as this artifact, I think it is for the best.” The courtroom breathed more easily after Luna escorted it safely away. Celestia was released from her prison, but remained fixed on the spot, staring after the book. Her heart sank with loss—until the six friends came to congratulate her on her victory. The spell of the terrible goddess had been broken, but Celestia had survived, and now she was free. Fly in the OintmentChapter 43 Early in the crisp October morning, the royal chariot approached the outskirts of Ponyville. At Celestia’s request, no grand ceremony was planned for her entrance, nor was she even to be seen coming into the town so conspicuously. Of course the townsfolk had been notified—some would say warned—that she would be coming to live there, but the exact time of her arrival was not made public. “I don’t know what all the fuss is about,” she complained to Luna, “it’s not like I’m a Princess.” “What is this fuss you refer to?” Luna wondered innocently. Celestia leaned back against the edge of the shining golden chariot and gave her sister a doubtful look. As the two alicorns stared at each other in silence, the only sound that could be heard was the flapping of the wings of the two formations of pegasus guards that flanked the chariot. The leader of the known world blinked and contemplated the statement from the shade of the giant banner of the Republic of Equestria. Celestia sighed at her sister, and thought, “That’s it, we’ve been royal way too long.” “After all that has occurred, it would be irresponsible for me to travel without an escort,” Luna explained with conviction. Another moment’s thought and she looked down, adding sorrowfully, “Unless you wish you had not come with royal accompaniment.” “No, I didn’t mean it like that,” Celestia quickly reassured her, “Of course I’m glad you came, sister. You were the one who was having a hard time processing me, remember?” “I’m learning,” Luna offered. “I hope that is not why you are leaving the capitol.” Celestia returned in a sweetly consoling tone, “Of course not, I know it’s been hard for you to forget everything I did, but you’ve accepted me now and it’s been a joy to get to know you as a friend again.” She tried not to show her sudden anxiety. “Shit,” she thought, “I hope it’s not still creepy when I use that voice.” “For me as well,” Luna affirmed first, before addressing the new tension. Luna was nothing if not perceptive, and they had been through this before. “It is all right, thank you. If we do not act like it is unsettling, eventually it will not be. It is really quite good, since you mean it.” They shared a quick reassuring smile before the white alicorn finally gave voice to her original concern. “I just want to be normal now, and to get away from politics and the capitol and just be a pony.” “Very well,” Luna conceded. A playful twinkle entered her eye. “But I AM a Princess, and this is—how do ponies say these days?” She tossed her glittering mane and finished blithely, “How I roll.” Celestia laughed. Too soon they were landed outside the town, and she hopped down onto the grass. “I hope you will visit soon,” Luna said. Celestia turned one eye to her sister—come to think of it, why did she always do that?—and quipped, “Better yet, you visit me, you never take a break! Honestly, part of what’s so great about the night is sleep.” The Princess answered seriously, “I will rest when the world does not require my attention.” Celestia knew she would never beat her little sis in a straight-face competition. “Come here,” she invited, turning back to the chariot. They rested their heads fondly on each other’s shoulders. “I will feel you every sunrise,” the night Princess said in farewell. “And every sunset,” returned the sunlight mare. Celestia pulled back and the chariot rose up to join the hovering squadrons on its way back to Canterlot. She walked into town as unobtrusively as a great alicorn can, but the mayor still managed to intercept her before she could find her home. The long-time ruler had learned the tells and mannerisms of politicians, and could usually spot empty formality. It DIDN'T take her trained eye to see the fear behind the mayor’s cheerful greeting. The well-intentioned mare’s hastily assembled posse hid behind their leader, except for one colt whose scowl was quite genuine. “Welcome to Ponyville! We are honored to have such a distinguished figure join our little community,” she claimed. “If there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, please let me know. You can usually find me in the new town hall, but if I’m not there any of these ponies will know where I am.” She gestured to them, and immediately they began to sweat. “I hope you can do one thing for me,” Celestia remarked. “Yes?” the mayor piped. “Try to relax,” the vaunted newcomer requested. With effort, she eliminated any hint of sarcasm and vowed, “I promise not to destroy the town.” “Again,” the surly colt snapped. The mayor’s jaw dropped and her eyes bugged out over her glasses. The regretful harbinger nodded to the bold one. Everyone knew that the Empress’s war machine had burned most of the place, but no pony was aware that Celestia had aided in the evacuation. Luna had asked the Senate to use army engineers and weapons funding to rebuild the ravaged areas, and Ponyville was back on its hooves again. With the newly united state, the town was no longer under the curse of the border. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” she said, “and I won’t require much. Really, I can help any time you need.” There was nowhere for the conversation to go, thankfully. Taking her leave, she found Peaceful Way and moved down the homely but pleasant row of houses. Inevitably, there were a few frightened eyes peering out at her through blinds and shutters. She followed the street to the end of the row, where one yellow house stood a space apart from the rest. It was an average home aside from the size of the doors and windows. She was surprised to see two strange pegasi drop down to meet her. The blue-maned colt addressed her solemnly. “You may have noticed that some ponies don’t want you here. I just wanted to let you know, we don’t all feel that way. If Luna forgives you, so do I.” His purple and green mate forced a smile and nodded. Celestia could only reply with a sincere “Thank you,” and the pair was on their way. “Perhaps,” she thought, “It wasn’t a mistake to come here after all.” She opened her freshly-painted blue door and took a second look at its size. It was comfortably high and unnecessarily wide. “I’m big, not fat,” she complained. She entered and examined her new living arrangements. It was not luxurious but she would get used to it. The country fashion of the décor did not particularly appeal to her, but all of the furniture was adequately proportioned. She looked out the broad front window, suddenly realizing she was still being watched. Who thought this was a good idea? It was probably so she could see the sun, but privacy was her greatest luxury at this point, and she quickly closed the drapes. She took a deep breath, finally relieved. She turned and her relief disintegrated at the sight of another window, of sorts. A terrible creature stared intensely at her from a polished silver surface. She looked down, shying away from her own face in the mirror. What she had just seen was not only her body, but a symbol that meant so many things to so many ponies. To many it meant fear, greed, and abuse. She wondered what it meant to her now. Those two pegasi were willing to see her differently because of Luna. Her sister, and those friends she had encountered, forgave her because she had really changed. There was one who forgave her first; he was the reason she had changed. Before she was better he drew her, and liked what he saw. With that thought, she looked up again and smiled at herself. She caught herself before she went further down a road that led to foolish emotions that might mess up her new life. Luna was right, she should move on. She should not have made such a rash suggestion to Trixie. Celestia made up her mind to apologize to the stage magician for puffing her up with false and reckless hopes. The alicorn slowly understood that she should use mail, paper mail that would be physically carried to Canterlot, just like any normal pony would use. Looking around, she found a quill and paper, but the inkwell was empty. She would have to send a servant—no, she would have to send herself to go get ink. “Mail! I have a mail box,” she blurted to no one. She stepped back outside and approached the first mailbox she had ever used. Her anticipation rose. Could there be anything for her? She opened it, and there were several envelopes, as if they had just been waiting for her. She opened them on the spot, one after the other. She groaned as she sifted through several ads for public relations firms. Worse, there was an offer for an advertising deal. She buried her hoof in her face as she read, “Buy Celestia?!” What were they trying to sell, anyway? Sunscreen, apparently. “I’m sure all the hairless ponies are dying to get their hooves on some politically charged, ironic sunblock,” she mocked. Such garbage never made it through royal communications. Then again, there was a note that also would be filtered out that she would not wish to miss. It had colorful hearts and smiles around the large, sloppy words: “Dear Princess Celecita—” “Celecita?” she repeated, and an image forced its way into her mind’s eye. An alicorn mamacita wearing a huge sombrero was shaking a pair of maracas and began to belly dance—thought deleted. Back to the letter: “I am happy you are coming to Ponyville. Swats says you are bad, but I think you are pretty. I want to be a Princess. Maybe we could be Princesseses together. love Buttercup” Well, that was sweet. There was another letter, maybe it would also be sweet. She read: “Dear Celestia, Welcome to Ponyville. I hope you can enjoy your stay and work out your problems. On behalf of the parents I must ask that you not interact with fillies. Please avoid the area of the school. Also avoid going out around 8:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m. when students are walking to and from school. Enclosed is a map on which the school, playgrounds, and other areas of young pony activity are clearly marked so that you can plan your routes around them. Thanks in advance for your cooperation. I am sure that the signed petition in my office will not have to be used. Thanks, Cheerilee P.S. I know a good psychiatrist if you need one.” Celestia blushed as she took it in, and when she was done she glanced around furtively. Across the street a few houses down, a door stood open. A little yellow face, probably Buttercup, smiled cheerfully from behind her mother’s legs. A protective hoof shoved the foal back inside. Celestia looked back at her mail but could still feel the parent’s withering glare boring into her. When she couldn’t stand it any longer she galloped for the door of her new house, leaving a cloud of correspondence behind her. She slammed the door and leaned back against the wood. It was inevitable that she would still have to deal with her past here, though she had been hoping to forget that part in particular. She panted, unable to run from the memories that pursued her. But then that warm, fresh sensation, that newness, washed over her again and reassured her that she was no longer the monster they thought she was. It was only natural that she would have to gain their confidence and show them, through patient and consistent actions, what was now true about her on the inside She gave a near-inaudible whimper as she realized she would have to go back out to retrieve the map. She would need the map. ColdChapter 45 Back inside her new abode, she considered the lock. She had hoped she would have the confidence to be comfortable in an open environment, but she really didn’t. She bolted it, thinking, “I’ll build up to that.” Celestia was worn out from her awkward day and was quite ready to give in to the night. She curled up on her bed and nuzzled the blankets. The mattress molded to her form as she relaxed into it, releasing all of her muscles. With a deep contented sigh, she whispered, “I’m telling you, sis, it’s the best part.” She expected to drift off to sleep, but her mind would not stop. Was she worried about tomorrow? “Nah, I can handle it,” she decided. Of course there would be awkward moments but she was getting used to that. She would have to pretend she didn’t, but she thought it was a relief, funny even. Of all the things she had to regret, partying wasn’t exactly the most horrible. She couldn’t let it happen again though; she would have to control herself a little, and have a talk with Pinkie Pie. Could she fit in like a normal pony? No, she wasn’t a normal pony, but she didn’t have to be. Even if she had an abnormal life here, she could still be happy. In time the community would accept her for what she was. Until then, she would have to run her life like a public relations campaign. She was sick of lies and pretense, but she wouldn’t need either. What reassured Celestia most of all was that she already had friends here. She was hopeful about her relationship with Pinkie Pie, Applejack and Fluttershy. She would definitely try to find Fluttershy sometime tomorrow, after she cleaned up the night’s mess. Celestia concluded that she had beat the system, and won it all. She could live a comfortable and carefree life. The demands of state would not weigh on her. She did not miss the wealth and certainly not the social posturing. Luxury was still open to her anyway; she had merely to visit Luna in Canterlot. She was content, even eager, to try out the simple country life. If she wanted a change of scene she could travel anywhere and still perform her only responsibility. Should she grow tired of the cozy accommodations, it would be easy to earn the money to upgrade, now that she had her powers back. In reality there was no point; she owned a small house, but the world was her home. She could run, fly, or teleport anywhere she willed. She could lie down in palaces, cottages, or under trees and on clouds beyond the reach of civilization. Now she was free. She had lived to see her happily ever after. After all these pleasant thoughts she should be sleeping like a foal, but she was not. There was something stirring in her that would not be put to rest. Her eyes opened at the discovery that she was afraid to sleep now, afraid that she would lose that something. She arose and moved through the house with a contemplative silence. Her mood called for a view into the clear expanse of the sky, so she stepped out into the back yard. She laid her graceful form in the center of the green. The door hung open; she couldn’t bring herself to close it. When it closed, she would have to be on one side of it or the other. The cool grass and the night breeze brought a chill to her skin. She welcomed it as more honest than the warmth of her chamber. She was supposed to be cold. Stars twinkled in the cloudless expanse overhead. In their company she could think the great thoughts that demanded to be explored. She and her sister were conscious that the sun and the stars still burned with fire even when they were beyond the sight of beast and pony. For whom did they shine then? Life received the energy given to it by the heavenly lights. Cascading from that energy were all the flowing, breaking, forming movements of the intricate workings of life. Beings continued the movement through their lives, came together, hurt and helped. Who did not need her? Who did she need? Her answer was unthinkable yet undeniable. The turn of her thoughts startled her, frightened her. The world had been interrupted from its natural course. Life, as living sentients, had continued its response as it thought and spoke to itself and wrote history. This, then, is its final and fullest expression; but it looks back to its giver and says, “You were wrong.” How tormented a creature it is. Rebelling against the warmth held out to it, life turns its motion to choke itself. Every year, this fact was commemorated in the gay celebrations of Heart’s Warming Eve. Once before, the collective of all hearts and minds had grown cold—so cold that it stopped itself, freezing backwards through spirit, action, organic motion, down to the fabric of nature, so that a veil shunned the heavenly light. Regretful yet stubborn minds separated to cut their ties, the very bonds that were the fulfillment of the life reaction and had made them prosper. As they scattered desperately into the vastness of the world, they met each other. Against their will and all probability, they found the others they had fled from and were joined together again, and warmed, for an era. Yet life still thought the same way. The destructive decision had been passed on through callous spirits and poured into her own, and she had stored up what she received. Even she, entrusted for an age to hold out the light to the world, despised its purpose. She acted in fear, hatred, conceit, and self-destructive selfishness. As she reacted to life, so the world reacted to her, forming a society that harmed the elite with pleasure garnered from the harm of the weak. The bitterness she sowed grew into another monster as her sister followed her example, and out of jealousy, attacked her. They spited the harmony of the heavens they represented with their animosity for each other. They multiplied warfare and cooperated in a competitive venture to create more and more powerful curses and weapons so that life could destroy itself. Their thoughts were selfish but their actions pursued death. They, too, had been interrupted. There must be a force that worked behind the scenes that carried out the agenda of the light and sustained an indestructible element of love against the tide of life’s malfeasance. Six ponies in particular had been called by this force, and received fragments of its own nature in the form of kindness, generosity, loyalty, honesty, laughter, and magic. Before they met each other they were bound together and destined to use these elements to interrupt Nightmare Moon. Luna’s course was reversed, and she only sacrificed for, protected, and cherished life, though her intentions were baffled by the Empress. That Celestia had been steadfast in selfish malice; in the face of love she delighted in her despise of life and her ill-gotten pleasures. What was meant by the word evil that was not true of her heart? Though she was born immortal, the legacy she willfully carried meant that she was always destined to die. That was the only natural and fair outcome. Recent events had begun when she felt that something was wrong. She had felt it more and more strongly up until the moment she was cast down. Then she had felt it, seen it, tasted it, even smelled it—but still could not put it to words. Only now did she know that what she could feel was the pure truth that it was wrong. Society was wrong, she was wrong, life was wrong. Its fundamental decision to undo itself by evil was the wrong choice. Life should continue to react, not to itself but to its source. In gratitude it should build itself up, through molecules and minds. The hearts of the living should, by selflessly offering love, fulfill the intent with which they were set in motion. Life did not create that love, but should accept it. The consequence of her defiance to the mysterious mover had been meted upon her directly, and not through her own kind. But instead of simply reacting to her, it had exalted its own nature when it refrained from completing her just destruction in that moment. Mercy was displayed for her against all Equestrian logic. The same six ponies that had been brought together by unknown paths to aid her sister had been brought together again, not by her but for her. The same intent guided the book into her hooves even while she was fighting it. Soldiers had captured the book, but it had captured their citadel. The author! Finally, here was a face behind these things, even if it was one she had not seen clearly. Before she was born he wrote the book for her and sent it to her. Three times she was shown in fable that the only possible result of her evil was death, and once she was shown in reality. But he had been with her and kept her from her death. He rescued her three times in illusion and once in life. He completed her reaction by dying her death, and finally interrupted her. He gave her heart his love and his life, setting her in motion on a new course. He had offered it, and the act was complete when she accepted it. Celestia wept. Why did he die? It should have been her. She had it coming, but he interrupted. A heart with such unearthly love should not die. Now she was supposed to live a normal and contented life. She was supposed to live a small and essentially selfish life, and leave the world alone. He could have saved the world without her, but chose to use her. Having become such an instrument, was she expected to remain motionless? Deeper still, having accepted his love, was she not to return it? She was supposed to be cold. Flashes above her drew her attention. From behind the moon, shooting stars appeared and streaked across the sky, burning up over Ponyville. The beautiful shower was a beautiful gesture. From the vulnerability of her state she received her sister’s gift with childlike wonder. Luna could be so severe, but she had also become so caring. Celestia stood and reached out with her magic, pulling solar wind down from its proper course. It was altogether too impractical and immense a feat to spend on an effect so transient, but the love in her heart had to reply to that which was sent. It took planning to set up a proper aurora; but she gathered one bright green ribbon to arc over the land. The meteor shower stopped, and she waited expectantly. More streaks came out of the black, flying in the formation of a heart. It was so cheesy, but she didn’t care. She fell back down, laughing through her tears. She laughed for another minute, but that too turned to weeping. Luna was blessing her in her start of this cold life that she could not accept. She cried for the bond they were just starting to form. She cried for her sister, whose blessing she would defy. Luna was showing the love that she had received. It was the source and her sister at the same time. How could the dear Princess not understand? The moon itself always reflected the light of the heavens. When it looked dark to those who watched from the ground, it was shining that light back into space to where it had come from. How could Celestia not reflect the love that was given to her? It was impossible. The coldness was gone. The white flame inside of her would not allow it to grip her another moment. There was an eruption of light around her and she tumbled into a dimension of swirling ether. Moonlight was the only thing on the grass behind the empty house. There was a gust of wind, and the back door slammed shut. LongingChapter 46 She knew before she opened her eyes that she was not on the green by the country cottage. She hadn’t consciously decided to teleport, but she found herself in the basement of the library of the Royal Magic Academy’s research division. The books on dark magic had been removed; the shelves they had filled were empty. None missed their presence or their influence. Regular materials seemed insufficient to occupy their place of importance and grim awe, however. Something powerful was needed to dispel their haunting ideological residue and restore the balance of the library, but what? Celestia hadn’t meant to come here, but she did know why she was here. She effortlessly moved aside the heavy bookcase and summoned the back door of the Vault. She opened it with the spell and hesitated in front of the unlit passage. Any farther and it would be treason. No fear of consequences would be sufficient. She had already lived her happy ending and, to her mind, completed her life. Her only pause came from the thought of breaking her sister’s trust and separating them, but even this did not stop her. She had always believed that they could not be kept apart for a great time, just as the sun and moon can only part ways for so long. She had hated their condition when they were enemies, but since they were reconciled it was a great comfort. She could wait no longer and entered the forbidden door with solemn but unshakeable steps. The journey through the long black passage was as natural and inevitable as falling. The white alicorn strode heedlessly through the hallowed and vaunted relics, following in the flesh the route she had already traveled in her dreams. Finally she stood before the book that the library could not contain. Her heart pounded; it was so close, but she was suddenly uneasy. The inner gates of the Vault slid shut and locked into place with sturdy enchantments. Celestia tensed and awaited her fate. She felt a presence unmask itself and cross the chamber behind her. A shadow deeper than shadow stalked the wall in front of her as it slowly circled. Celestia knew what she could not see. The chamber was lit by the glow of a white crescent that now replaced the sun as the emblem of its keeper. The shadow figure stretched out of the dark side of the artificial moon. The menace, a spectral silhouette of Nightmare Moon, loomed over Celestia and waited for her to move. Celestia was aware of the desperate and ingrained patterns within herself: “It’s mine. I can take it. I can snatch it away and force my escape. I am powerful; who can stop me?” She breathed deeply and discarded the frantic thoughts. The last thing she wanted was to oppose her sister, tonight or ever again. To take what she wanted as a violent robber would only prove that she should not have it. The old ways had no place here; she was searching for more of what was new. Celestia bowed her head in acceptance. The source of the threatening shadow stepped out from behind the moon, but it was only Luna. She was not easily given to tears, but there was hurt in her voice as she spoke, “You should not have come here. What could turn you to this? I thought you were happy.” “I thought I would be happy,” Celestia replied. “I thought I could forget about him.” The Princess remembered all the friends she had lost and agreed, “It is difficult to forget those who have passed, but the past should not be allowed to ruin the future.” Luna spread her wings behind her and stretched to her full height, to look commandingly upon the intruder. Her royal voice echoed in the confined chamber, “As Premier of the Republic I must uphold the sentence passed by the tribunal. Authority in the new order is based on its rulings. You agreed to abide by its decision, and the Republic must enforce its laws. Come now, respect my decision. Leave this Vault and all its treasures and I will forget your rash impulse.” Celestia, still bowed, replied, “I can’t, Princess. If you have to, go ahead and punish me, but I have to read the book again.” She closed her eyes despondently and begged, “Lock me away with it forever, just let me read it.” “Forever is a long time,” she cautioned. “Longer than a thousand years,” she added, with a quiver. Luna’s mind was forced to distinguish between these superlatives. That distinction separated her from a life trapped inside herself, tormented by darkness; from raging at her own dust, and moaning in depression without end. Dropping to a normal tone, she said, “Sister, I could not do that to you.” She folded her wings and lowered her head to bring them face to face. She finally allowed a sorrowful expression and counseled, “You do not need it to remember him by. He will be remembered. A monument will be built, songs will be written, and historians will search. You have a whole life before you. He would want you to let him go and live it in freedom.” “You don’t know what he wants!” Celestia blurted defensively. “No one does! How can I owe him everything and not know him?” “What he wants?” Luna repeated doubtfully. They rose up to gaze at each other directly. Celestia knew then that her sister finally understood her; it was comforting and terrifying to be so vulnerable. “Oh sister, that is what you want?” Luna intimated. The great white mare nodded, and buried her face in the pastels of her mane. The Princess whispered to deal the blow less harshly, “Then we both know that you will not find what you are looking for. It cannot be. As one who loves you, I beg you not to waste yourself, where you will only find more grief.” Undulating hairs carried away Celestia’s tears and laid them on the floor. “I won’t accept that,” she nearly whimpered. Gathering her resolve she continued, “Whatever is true, I have to know everything. He poured himself into me, and I have to. Do you know what that’s like?” Luna pondered it. “I do,” she confessed. She turned away and took a step towards the resting Elements. “The Elements of Harmony are a part of me. But their work was completed, and I do not need to hold on to them.” “I don’t feel complete,” Celestia lamented. “If they were not finished with you, what would you do to see them again?” “I would do anything,” Luna admitted. “To be honest, I did feel something more. When you were reborn, I was finally at peace. The last trace of bitterness toward you left me; whatever was there was related to the Elements somehow, and I trust the Elements. Only I am afraid that I will lose that peace if I have to be lonely again.” Celestia followed her and comforted, “You will feel me every sunset. But don’t be lonely again, little sis. Let other ponies in. It is peacetime; you don’t need to be invincible anymore. Twilight and her friends at least will understand.” “If I let you do this,” Luna allowed the thought, “I cannot stop them from pursuing you, and if they catch you, they will have to—“ she choked. “They will have to punish you. To think of you in that awful trance…” She collected herself to continue, “Do not let that happen to us. Celestia, you cannot hurt any that pursue you! They will be good ponies.” She vowed stoically, “If you hurt them, I will have to hunt you myself.” “Of course,” Celestia appealed, “I couldn’t hurt them.” “I know,” Luna sobbed. That only made it worse. “That means you will have to leave all civilization to be where they cannot find you. You will have to be alone. Unless you can disguise yourself.” Celestia shook her head. “No, I never learned that, I was too vain. If you could live in the moon…” The Princess was torn apart between her love and her conscience. “No, you will not be alone,” Luna decided. “The night knows to hide as shadow in the daytime. The sun chases it, but it always finds a concealed place. I know how to disguise you, if you can bear it.” “Make me myself,” the alicorn responded simply. “Come, pay careful attention. I will only do this once,” the night magician instructed. They faced each other, and prepared to begin. “Thank you,” Celestia said softly. “I love you.” The two alicorns rested their foreheads together, letting their manes intertwine as they rippled. Luna pulled away and said gruffly, “Now stop it or we shall never be able to concentrate.” She took one long last look at her sister and closed her eyes. She summoned up her power and cast blue light onto the great body before her. The air silently split and shimmered as prismatic fragments of her image closed off Celestia from view. With mixed emotion, Luna looked again and beheld Dusk, the small grey pegasus. The little pony’s coat was not streaked with ash, and her eyes retained their magenta hue. The Princess turned away from the stranger, saying, “I should not have done that. Go. I hope you do find something.” Dusk grabbed the book and, with a glance back at her mismatched sister, departed down the dark passage. DawnChapter 47 There was a white flash in the alley behind the fairgrounds in east Canterlot. An inconspicuous, drab pegasus crept around the side of a tent that housed a traveling magic show. Dusk nosed open the flap and looked inside. A blue unicorn sat by a candle watching for her and merely cocked an eyebrow when she arrived. “Small again?” “Sort of,” Dusk replied. “Are you sure you want to do this? You could be arrested just for letting me in.” “Trixie would do anything to have another chance to be the biggest show around,” the performer asserted, “If you can hold up your end of the deal, you’re in.” “Thanks for having me again,” Dusk said as she slipped in from the night. Trixie gestured to a cozy “room” formed by a couple of curtains, saying “It’s all yours.” The new stagehoof crossed the tent to her quarters. Trixie caught her before she could take to her private space. “All the bits, that’s what you said,” she reminded her partner with a sly smile. Dusk made a face as images of the Imperial mint spewing out its shiny rounds flooded her brain. “Bleagh,” she voiced her reaction. “I don’t need to see another one of those for a thousand years. Just remember, you said the great and benevolent Trixie.” Trixie rolled her eyes, and quipped, “Trixie guesses she really will do ANYTHING. Cheers.” She downed a celebratory shot of hard cider. Dusk laughed as she retired to her bedchamber. She self-consciously pulled the gap in the curtains tightly shut behind her. Dusk closed her eyes. Faint shimmers of dim light appeared around and above her. Drawing a deep breath, she stretched and grew up into the flickering outlines. Celestia’s outstretched wings brushed against the top of the tent. She folded them, lay down, and produced her prize. She rested the ancient book in front of her and paused to gaze at it. “All this for a good read,” she joked to herself. The gold emblem on the cover seemed to have regained some of its luster somehow. As she looked at the graven alicorn head, she could only wonder at him, the author. Who was he? Why would he do something like that for her, of all ponies? She had to find out. Maybe she would soon see his face as more than carvings and symbols. She quivered with illogical anticipation. Luna was right that she probably couldn’t have what she truly wanted. She would not accept that he was dead, but she feared she would only find denial in visions of his living past. After he had given her his life, such wonderful life, she could only wish to live it with him in whatever way she could. Books are generally read from the beginning. Instead she opened it to a point well past the middle and turned pages until she found one she recognized. It was the one they had found in the crystal cave at Ruhama. The curators of the Vault had returned it to its source, and observed that it fused back together on its own. Now it showed a simple sketch of the scene much as it was shown to her in the library, but with only the author standing on his death ground under the crystals. She did not let her gaze linger there; she did not wish to see that again. She flipped it over. The other side still held the image of herself, her eyes shutting out the dust of time as she waited forever for her mysterious rescuer. “If you want to see anything, you have to read before that,” she told herself. She didn’t. She wanted to read the next page. It was blank, of course. She stared into it deeply. She did not see or feel anything strange, but kept it under her determined gaze. She cast her heart toward it as if yearning could summon a response. After some time, she began to fear it had been for nothing. She lifted her hoof up off the parchment. It came up as well; it was stuck to her. She gasped as she realized she could no longer distinguish the white of her hoof from that of the paper. With wonder on her face she considered the situation. “Should I really do what I just thought?” she asked herself. She looked around at the dim tent and reassured herself that no one would see. “I am so going to,” she approved with a brave smile and readied herself. It did not take long; white fire beckoned. Celestia dove headfirst into the white. She felt a shock and a dizzying rush. She closed her eyes and panted as she plummeted through some flickering dimension that she could not navigate. Her hooves came to rest gently on the ground. As she trusted her legs again and stood firmly, she took in her surroundings. A garden with blossoming trees glowed an eerie hue under the red-purple light of an eclipse. Could this be a vision? She felt the earth and smelled pollen on the air. With alarm she realized she could not sense the sun or the strength that their connection brought her. Rooftops protruded over the flora and framed the unfamiliar sky. A row of tombstones with Tarpanaic etchings lay in the grass beside her. A low gate beckoned for her to enter another section of the cemetery. She took a cautious step out of the crater where she landed. She took another step and another, moving into a steady trot as if she knew where she was going. She accelerated eagerly. Rounding a hedge, she joined a cobbled path that led to an arched granite structure. The entry to the mausoleum was sealed and formidable guards stood watch. She paused as she surveyed the warriors that opposed her passage. A company of pegasi with swords or lances stood in a row across the path and hovered above the site. Beside the door two magicians in stately robes each maintained an orb of protective energy. Two manticores in glistening armor towered over the others as they leaned on their meteorite spears. She was not prepared to fight them if they would stand against her, but she felt she must move forward. She stepped towards them slowly. The manticores smelled her and growled, and advanced to the grounded pegasi, who tightened their formation. The pegasi above spread out and moved to both sides to encircle her. The two magicians stoically continued their arts. Celestia’s anxiety grew as she approached. She would have hailed them, but realized that she did not know their tongue. The warriors started to close in with a hostile bearing. The guards froze. Celestia paused, uncertain what had changed. There was some strange rattling sound. The hostile pegasi that whirled above abruptly broke away. She heard thuds and clangs—they had dropped their weapons! She realized now that the guards were shaking in their armor. The overwhelmed ponies collapsed. The manticores suddenly became like dumb brutes. They snarled, howled, and whined, tearing from their armor and bounding away out of sight. The threatening orbs of light were snuffed out, and the magicians fell forward. Celestia continued up the path, picking her way through the fallen soldiers and over a potent meteorite spear. She felt a growing awe, and not of herself. Finally she came to the solid door, which seemed as though it was not built to be opened. A great seal carved into the smooth face of the stone held runes that imbued it with layers of defensive spells. Some of the runes lit up against her, but she refrained from using her own magic against it. Disarming such a well-planned system would be treacherous and time-consuming. One of her hooves became hot with the energy of the spirit she carried. She lifted the hoof and held it gingerly an inch from the gate. The whole seal gleamed red at the threat. She touched it lightly. A flash split the stone and cast its pieces to either side. She recoiled from the explosion; but she had not been harmed. Celestia lit the octagonal chamber as she entered. A golden chest rested on a pedestal in the center. Above it loomed a forbidding statue of a manticore king. The stoic figure clutched the key tightly in its clawed marble fist. She wondered if the statue might be enchanted to defend its prize. The eclipse emblems on the key glowed and the metal resonated with a deep hum. It vibrated so strongly that it powdered the stone around it and soon it dropped to the floor. She levitated it into her grasp and inserted it into the keyhole without hesitation. The key went dark and silent as it freed the latch. She lifted the lid carefully and beheld the resplendent crown of seven points. She picked it up but was disappointed that it was dark and cold. She knew not what to do with it; she certainly could not wear it. She placed it on the floor and looked at it thoughtfully. It seemed empty but she felt that it should be full. Celestia breathed deeply and lowered her horn at it. She focused on that feeling of fresh life that had lingered inside her after she was reborn. The inlaid crystals began to glow. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the light in her chest. White flames climbed her horn. She willed it out of herself, heedless of the consequences. “I’ll give up all of my life if I have to,” she declared. But even as she felt it flow out of her, the spirit replenished itself in her heart, which beat faster and faster. A roaring blaze now lit up the chamber and pulled air in through the door. The flash of heat subsided to a gentle warmth with a gentle glow. She was done, but she still bowed. She bowed before her king. She realized she would eagerly become whatever he wished. A horn touched hers. The pleasurable exchange restored her own strength. She waited expectantly for what would come next, but was not expecting to hear hooves cross the stone beside her. She looked up and he was not there. She turned to see the flare as he teleported from the doorway. The broad golden portal remained open behind him. She could not sense where it led; it crossed layers of ether in a way she did not understand. She followed and teleported into it the best she could. It led her on another uncontrollable flight. She came to rest gently on a familiar hill. It was a cloudy night, her own night; she could feel the sun beneath the earth. Far to the north the spires and lights of Canterlot shimmered on the mountainside. At the top of the hill, the author who had rewritten her story waited, gleaming like bronze in a furnace. Above him the clouds parted to reveal a spiral of starry lights. She felt small under this galactic canopy. What was one star worth among a million? He seemed to value her greatly. Celestia was still uncharacteristically shy of meeting his gaze, looking down at the grass as she walked up the slope. How close was close enough? She yearned to press closer, but as his legs came into view she faltered, feeling unworthy. A strong hoof over her shoulders pulled her in. The acceptance drove out her fear, and she looked up into his face. The sight of his blue eyes glowing into hers overwhelmed her. They were wild and intense, but she finally understood the relentless compassion in that light. Celestia’s own eyes took him in until they were too full and she had to close them tightly. She rested her head on his chest. The delight! She gasped and gave a laugh, gasped again and sighed. He spread a powerful wing over her, despite the resistance her own limbs gave as they rose involuntarily. Would he find her crude? He understood her totally, and had loved her even in the depths from which he had raised her. Her position was totally compromised, which should have terrified her. He could use her or abuse her in any way, and she would not oppose him. But he cared for her more than she did. She lifted a hoof to stroke his skin, and was startled to feel something besides hair and muscle. There was an irregular line where flesh had torn and refused to heal. It was a scar. It was her scar. He held his little pony. She sobbed in his embrace. She had guarded herself her whole life, but she was safe here. She had known so much greed and hatred, but here she was loved selflessly. Everything was alright. Really, it did not matter what everything else did. She was completely satisfied just with this moment. She relaxed into him and enjoyed the peace he offered. The rhythm of his heart was pure music to her. Her heartbeat slowly changed pace until it matched his in blissful harmony. Too soon, it seemed, he pulled away. He must, though, or she would never have done anything else. “Why would that be so bad?” she wondered. His lips were just above her forehead as he inhaled deeply. He blew on her, into her. It seemed to her that she had been holding her breath her whole life. In truth, she was breathless, rapt in the moment; but she felt that she was breathing her first breath of free air. Full life filled her whole body as the flame inside her was rekindled to a mighty blaze. It rippled inside her skin and white sparks flowed out along her shimmering mane and tail. The sharp points of daylight soared weightlessly through the sky, carried by the wind that rushed from the top of the hill and out into the spread of the earth. The author left her side and took to the sky. Strong wings carried him through the atmosphere to the universe beyond. The whirlpool of worlds shone brighter to greet his return. He headed towards the core of the light, and his wake pulled the rift in the clouds shut behind him. She flew up after him and broke through the obscuring haze. Luna’s moon hung in place, unaware of what had occurred. She landed on the soft gray landscape and sat staring up at the dark void. Her heart sank. Why did he have to leave? After what she had felt, she could not bear to be alone; but she was not so alone with his life in her veins. He had not left her empty, but full. And if he had left a piece of himself inside her, he would surely return. “He could have left me a note,” she sighed. Her eyes lit up. “He left me a whole book!” She could not return to it as herself. With a prismatic flicker, she shrank to a small grey form. Keeping such wonderful secrets would cause her to burst—but that was a problem for tomorrow. She could not imagine calling herself “Dusk”; she had changed too much. She took wing towards the city and her traveling home. She rushed into ecstatic loops and laughed for joy. She was not trapped in the trailing end of a tragedy. She wasn’t settling into a domestic life to forget her past. She was starting a new adventure, and she would meet its challenges with life and hope. She had fallen, but now she was rising. Dawn settled down and soared smoothly and contentedly. She did not understand all that had happened—yet. “It isn’t so strange,” she thought. “After all, I used to own a phoenix.” Dear TwilightDear Twilight Sparkle, Thanks again for saving my life and believing that I could really have a new life. I hope you are not hurt to hear that I am now apparently an outlaw. You’re not my student anymore, but as my friend I thought you deserved an explanation. What you have heard is true. I did take the book, but you probably aren’t surprised. You already knew that the book had taken me, and it will not let go. You of all ponies know something about destiny, and I could not bear to see mine locked away in the vault forever. It has already waited--it was meant to come to light now, not a thousand years from now or even next year. I didn’t do it for power, I did it for love. And the more I find out, the more I realize that this love is not only for me but for everypony. I’m not trying to pay you back, but there is something I want to tell you, to share what I hold most dear with you, because it is about your destiny as well. Some things you already know, and we spoke openly about it in courtrooms, castles and cathedrals. You were the first to figure it out when we found that page in the cave, that the author of it had already sacrificed himself for me. You understood that it was of harmony and love, and you trusted it. Even though you don’t know him, it was him more than me that you trusted. Since you already trust him I figure you’re ready to know him. I’m not talking about the past. He is alive. I know that sounds impossible. But he is more than you might have realized. You know that what we saw in the book actually happens, whether it is in the past or the future. He writes our history, our very lives. I could walk inside the book because the world is in the book. While I pretended to be a god because of the power that was given to me, he is the one who forms our world. All the stars are his, including the sun, including me. He is such a great king that to lay myself at his hooves is a greater honor than to sit on my own throne. You might wonder how, if we are both alive, it was a just substitution. I guess it is more complicated, but equally just. We both really died, and are really alive. He is like a phoenix. When we burned together, our ashes were mixed, and we were rekindled into one fire. There are not really two lives anymore, only one. He died for me and all I can do is live for him. I can’t live the life I lived before; I still remember the days of my evil, I am still me, but now that he is in me we are a new thing that has never been. I may seem ancient to your eyes, but I feel like a foal, as if I was born that day. But as I now understand, it was not just about me. Me and the alicorns you know of were born as ordinary unicorns, though royal. We were raised to become what we are now when Equestria was first formed. We were made to represent all of the races, so that we would never be as divided as we were when the world was almost destroyed by ice. Our powerful magic comes by the way we are tied to the spirits of the ponies we rule. He made himself into a form like mine, so that by giving my body and spirit new life, he could give new life to the spirits of all ponies. However, this is a very intimate thing, and he does not do it to the ponies who do not want it, or rather, don’t want him. That is why many of my former subjects no longer accept my heart. I have changed, but many of them did not wish to change. All along, he has given us a choice. But you know, you can sense, that this world is not like it should be. You can almost feel how things should have been, a bright world, living in love and harmony, where all ponies know they are loved by their creator and have a destiny of their own. It hurts to see what it has become, and hurts even more to remember how I contributed to that. We must have pushed him away so long and so far, but he still has not given up on us. I think you know by now that every pony here is truly a part of this darkened world. You and even your friends have gotten to know your dark sides. That is why we must be renewed with him so that we can live in harmony with him. The alternative makes me shudder. To be away from him is to be away from life and goodness, and to be with death and evil. But as you can see in me, no one is truly doomed unless they refuse the hope that is offered to them. I mourn for those who stumble like I used to, farther into the darkness that we’ve chosen for our world. Your friends aren’t your friends because they’re the best. They’re your friends because you know and love each other. It’s the same with him. Unfortunately for a long time I have taught that life is about doing more good than bad, and I often called good ‘bad’ and vice-versa. But it isn’t about that, it’s about knowing him. Of course, if you do know him, want him, follow him, who he is—characteristics like you find in the Elements of Harmony—it will begin to show in your life. You already trusted him and do know him, in a way. You’ve felt him when you use the Elements that he gave us to protect our world. You, like me, came to the place where you realized your own darkness, and I know you have been burdened by guilt for what you did to ponies while researching dark magic. You wanted what I wanted, forgiveness and life, and to be reconciled with harmony and your friends. You were forgiven that day, and I am confident that your spirit will one day live with him. I want you to know that it was because of his death that you are forgiven, just as it is for me. Since you accepted and trusted what little you have been shown of him, it is time that you knew him for who he is. Since you have been tormented by dark spirits, I am burdened to see you get to know a pure and loving spirit who will heal what they have broken. I don’t want you to wait until you die for your spirit go to him, when you could live right now knowing your destiny in person. Though his bodily form lives far away for now, his spirit is very close, and I think I’m realizing as I’m writing this that I’m thinking of you because he is. So… I guess I should introduce you. He is known by many names. He could be called creator, but now I also know him as my savior. He is the Author of Harmony, the Prince of Peace. Some have known him as Jesus, Isa, or Cha’tan. If you can find any syllables to express what you have seen of his heart, I think he would gladly answer to that. If you say yes to him, and tell him that you accept his gift and want to know him, I promise you that—no, he promises that his spirit will come to you. He will know if anyone calls for him. Although I know you don’t want to be known as associating with an outlaw like me, don’t be afraid to share what I have told you with your friends or even anypony at all. Even if you could read this to someone in another time and another world, it would be just as true for them as it is for us now. If your brother ever wakes up, he will need this. I am sorry that I could not wake him from his coma. He is not in a true coma, I have given him a way to wake up and to do so without any of the darkness that I put in him, although of course he still has his own dark side. He simply has so far decided not to wake up, because he is terrified to have it stripped away from him, afraid to live in light of harmony. When he does choose to wake up, I hope that you will show him the forgiveness and love that you have received. I never told you this, but I have thought for a long time that you have the capacity to be a princess one day, perhaps a much better one than I ever was. But I do not think that you belong to this dark world, to inherit power here. If you will be his princess, then perhaps one day you can be a princess of a better place… a new world. Sincerely, Celestia Celestia's Descent (Intro)Chapter 1 / Intro Today, she felt something was wrong. She had never been so uneasy during the day. Whatever was wrong, she told herself, it was still the day, and the day is of course hers; so she would fix it. Princess Celestia’s mind smoldered with these thoughts as she sat at the top of the cathedral stage, still wearing a placid smile. There was no reason to let it be known that something was out of place. As the robed choirs on either side of the hall closed their chant, she approached the podium and spread her wings. She filled up the glowing image in the stained glass behind her as the sun dropped into the top of the westward window, just as it was meant to. The teleprompter above the camera still had not updated. Equestria would have to wait as she basked in her glory a few seconds longer than usual. In the face of the day’s foreboding, she had demanded that new policies would be enacted today, a week ahead of schedule. Finally the hastily prepared speech appeared on the monitor. “Greetings, my devoted citizens. I have blessed you with another day.” “You have, and we are grateful,” the choirs automatically proclaimed. “This day is a special blessing,” she said, noting idly that special blessings had become rather frequent. “I have heard your prayers, and I have granted them. Today, my Solar Empire, I shall make you stronger. The new laws I give you today will increase your ability to serve. This will bring new responsibility, and those who allow me to increase their faithfulness will surely be rewarded with an increase in my special protections upon them. Your service will increase the prosperity and security of the Empire, and hasten the day when I allow you to be used by me to draw into the Empire those who are unenlightened. Then you will never again fear the darkness, and my light will fill the whole earth.” The singers struck up a chorus of “It Will Be as You Say”. They continued untiring into “How Shall We Praise Thee,” singing “For what shall we praise thee? For thy power on the earth? For thy power in the heavens?” There was really no problem at all, she concluded, just another day of success: an epic win just for being Celestia. Right on an in-breath in the song and a second’s pause in the music, a single worshipper choked, “No—“ and collapsed out of the ranks and into the aisle, dead. All fell into a hush. The pony on the camera moved to turn it off, but Celestia sneakily swatted his hoof away with an almost imperceptible burst of magic. This was no way to end a live broadcast. The goddess rose vertically from the stage and, holding out her hooves, levitated the limp figure into her grasp. “My faithful worshiper, you have praised me until your passing,” she declared. As she rose towards the setting sun, her voice rose to a near-thunder. “For this I will gather your soul to myself to partake of my holy immortality!” With the last word, there was a great flash as she met the sun. She emerged in a dark and smoky facility in the industrial district on the windward side of the mountain from Canterlot. She perched on the rim of an unmonitored garbage smasher and dropped the warm body into it. The robes flowed behind the corpse as it plunged out of view and added a dull thud to the staccato soundscape of progress. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was master of life and death in her realm. She told herself that she was immortal, and she decided who would live and who would die—but she hadn’t decided the singer would die. Shrouded in gloom, the usually radiant Princess stretched out her breast with a hoof. She removed a slight magic distortion on her skin to reveal the scar left by a terrific gash. That wasn’t supposed to happen either; officially, it hadn’t. She took one last look into the compactor and remembered the singer’s final word. Did he utter, “No”, in fear of death, or had it been an answer to the verses of the choir? She hid the wound again and teleported to the reception hall in the palace, where she would customarily return after the sunset ceremonies. A goat in a suit awaited her and commented, “I didn’t know you gathered souls. That was a nice touch.” The Princess gave him a glare. His expression was unmoved but he changed the subject quickly. “There were a few details about the new policies that haven’t been addressed. When we increase the production demands on the cities they are sure to use their new powers of eminent domain to seize non-contributing business as intended. How can we appear benevolent when ponies are dispossessed, though?” he asked stroking his beaded beard. “Don’t be stupid. Who will pay attention to that?” she stated. “The monopolies will help quell discontent as they take over. And the middle class is too invested in the companies to watch out for each other.” “Still,” he alerted, “there might be demonstrations, and with how high the new demands are, city leaders might be frustrated enough to let some bad press loose. Some additional measures could be added to smooth things over.” “If we pretended to give the city governments what they needed, it would be their fault. When they use their powers to tap the economy, it will be the greed of certain mortal ponies staining the implementation of the immortal’s perfectly imparted law,” she concluded, with some satisfaction. She asked, on afterthought, “How do you say that, ‘give them fake money’?” “We could issue growth funds backed by Imperial vouchers,” he bleated out habitually. “I knew there was a reason I keep you around,” she patronized, “Why, it would take me a whole day to replace you.” As the sun set, she turned and departed unexpectedly. He had more to discuss, but it was unwise to harass her when she was not in the mood for matters of state. A feeling of unfulfillment snuck through the halls behind her as she retreated towards the pleasures of the inner palace. Seeing a jet-black colt in a black suit, she stopped to inquire, “What about Nightmare Moon? What is she doing?” Whatever was going on, it simply had to be her doing. The agent answered through thick sunshades, “Unknown. Her presence has not been detected on this side of the border.” That was not the answer she needed. “How did she react to the plague we encouraged in Cimareoon?” she demanded. “She has sent in NLR military medical corps to assist local hospitals with containment and treatment. There are unconfirmed reports that she is spreading a wellness spell over the area,” he answered dryly. “What?” she protested, “Medics? Wellness? Where is her retaliation?” “That is unknown, apart from increased screening at the border.” “She can’t keep this shit up forever!” she exclaimed vehemently. “I’ll break her in the end. She has to fight back at some point.” With that she resumed her determined march to solace. She would have to make one last appointment before she could be rid of pony presence. What was that in their eyes? She couldn’t stand it anymore. There was an emptiness forming within her chest. She tried talking herself out of it, then tried hating it. All the hatred she sent out slipped into an awful unfamiliar mist with no return. Her first reaction had been right, she concluded. This thing should be drowned with vices; when had that ever failed? She turned and entered a small dark room where two security guards monitored the palace grounds projected in gray on the wall in front of them from a faintly glowing crystal ball. They remained still and apparently focused on the image. She waved her greaved hoof over the crystal ball, which flickered in response and changed the display on the wall from the approaches to the palace grounds to back alleys and inner city slums on the south side of Canterlot. The guards did not react. The abject poverty of this quarter was the glorious capitol’s most obvious and best-kept secret, hidden from the upper classes by carefully directed roads, social barriers, and indifference. She scanned the rusting and crumbling, cramped landscape and watched those stragglers who had failed to reach the safety of their squalid dwellings before nightfall. A lone filly trotted down a poorly lit alley, dancing through debris instinctively in the low light. Her mane and tail were neatly arranged but very dirty from a day’s work. As she carried her small saddlebag she hung her head and looked into every shadow with fear as if she were in the Everfree forest. The young one’s slender body bounced and her hips swayed as she navigated the cracked street. No detail escaped the appraising mind of her observer. Celestia’s wings rose slightly without her command, and stiffened slightly at the base. She raised her hoof and almost spoke, but she hesitated. The filly peeked around a corner before taking the turn and disappearing out of sight. “Why did I let her get away?” the stalking ruler wondered. With a simple adjustment the orb could have continued to track the young one, but it remained untouched. Celestia had let her hope slip away too easily. It was not like her. The predatory glint returned to her eyes and she resumed, eager to set aside this uncharacteristic uncertainty. A young and handsome colt also picked his way through her city’s night. With only a cursory examination she pointed and said softly, “That one.” Without turning the guards nodded. The ruler turned to leave for her chambers and finally cut herself off from the frustrations and fears of this uncooperative world. As she slipped out of the security room back into the brightly lit hall, she noticed another well-dressed politician waiting for her. Did he know? Correction: what did she care? She assumed a rapid gait as she headed straight for the tall double-doors where she sought shelter. “Your majesty, there are urgent matters that—“ he started to say as she passed by quickly. He pursued but did not exert himself enough to catch her or she would have kicked him. Reaching her objective at last, she threw the great doors open, entered, and slammed them behind her. The fixtures in the chamber rattled and a picture fell off its hook and smashed on the floor. She studied it where it lay face down in its own broken glass. She knew it was a picture of herself, like most of them were. She left it there and moved through her private residence to the far end of a pointlessly long table. It wasn’t as if she had guests tonight. After a successful day’s rule she always had quite an appetite and was always greeted with a banquet of Equestria’s finest delicacies. She sat down and began to eat slowly. After a while she started to eat faster and faster, devouring arrangements of lilies and an unfamiliar stew greedily. She picked up an apple pie messily in her hoof, shoved half of it in her mouth, and swallowed without chewing. Suddenly she stopped and dropped it. She pushed it away from her and returned the crumbs and slimy residue on her hooves into the pie with her magic. She glanced over to the empty space on the wall where the portrait had hung. A shot of dope potion beckoned and it was soon emptied. The radiant alicorn stole into her bedchamber and extinguished the lights. She pulled supple sheets around herself and lay back, drifting away from the world into the chemical experience. After a while, however, the buzz and rush of hallucinogenic flight was joined by a piercing ring in her ears and splitting headache. The small spasms became more painful than pleasurable. After an hour of half-consciously refusing the fact, she admitted that she wasn’t enjoying it. When she willed away the effects of the potion, some of the unexpected side effects still lingered. Her head jerked up from the bed. She had not meant to fall asleep and she could not remember the content of her troubling dreams. It was still night but she could feel the morning coming. More than that she felt hungry, so hungry, but not for food. Celestia rose and considered the lights but decided, somewhat against her nature, to remain shrouded in the dark. She still wore her gold crown, necklace, and greaves, which had left pulsing indentations in her skin where she had slept on them. Indulging in stealth, she slipped quietly down the hall. She had learned how to deprive her hooffalls of sound when she wanted to. She approached an unremarkable side door, creeping with a malevolent smile as if cornering her prey. She sniffed under the door. Her tissues became flush with hot blood and her wings stiffened again. She willed the door open and let it give an artful creak while remaining silent herself. In the middle of the room, the handsome colt she had indicated earlier sat tied to a chair. He had been taken off the street, but since the proper preparations had been made, his mane was neatly arranged and he smelled sweet under his new suit. Dim red lights slowly turned on in response to the door opening. She salivated and her pupils dilated narrower in expectation. The colt turned his head to the door but only saw it close; the huge hunting figure had already melted into the shadow on the other wall, thrilled in her cruel foreplay. Some time later she emerged frustrated. She had not done as much to him as she expected. Her pupils remained small on her large eyes, refusing to adjust to the darkness. She blinked repeatedly, but it was not put off. To her bewilderment the hunger was still with her. With only a little while until the new day, she had merely to distract herself from these untoward sensations a bit longer. She headed towards the couch in front of the royal entertainment system but for some reason kept going past it until she was looking out the window of her tower. Close by in the center of the view stood another graceful tower. It was designed to house a second royal resident. Instead of being demolished it had been partially repurposed but still seemed unfulfilled. A window in the opposite tower contained nothing. As she strained her gaze at it, ancient memories floated out of that internal haze. A familiar blue face implanted itself from memory into the window. She blinked and sadly it was still empty. What was this insidious foolishness? It had to be tamed. Why should she care that her sister wasn’t there? A dash of private hate crossed her all-beautiful face and burned crimson across this encroaching mist. Luna! “I shouldn’t have signed that treaty! I should have crushed her!” she cried out to the empty halls. “I can raise the moon anyway! Who needs her alive!?” The arches and banisters echoed mockingly, “Who needs her alive!?” She gritted her teeth and choked back a reply. She growled and then moaned as her hatred moaned flatly within her. She didn’t want her sister, but she needed her. She needed Canterlot, she needed Equestria. Glaring, murmuring soldiers surrounded her mind. Their faded and torn battle colors issued a faltering pledge of loyalty to her. They advanced on broken legs through a windswept valley in her memory, madly twisting their faces in garish caricatures of their ill breeding. They had said they would die for her—was it theirs to say if she enjoyed it? A bugle player, shot through the throat, gurgled “Solar Victory”, as if to answer her idle query as to whether they were strong enough to take the fortifications across the river. She needed them back. Now. They toppled backwards away from her, finally releasing their pent-up blood. She sprang spasmodically across the marble floor as if to catch them. The vision dissipated and she screeched to a halt on the edges of her gold-clad hoofs. Throwing her side against the wall she pressed her head against the inside of an archway. Some ponies had disappeared for uttering such defamations in the street, but she couldn’t stop thinking these things. With eyes tightly shut, she pushed harder, as if to crush that stupid anguish. Now it was in her head and spreading throughout her body, which heaved and shuddered as if allergic to itself. Her ears rang with pressure as if her emptiness was finally imploding. A stone broke away under her strength so that she fell forward after it. She regained her hooves and glanced this way and that down a side hall and towards the locked door, which still kept its peace. She reared up on her hind legs and brandished her hooves to face some phantasmagorical attacker, but none came. In a show of strength, royal hooves slammed down into the stone, sending crunched bits skittering across the gilded chamber. She picked up a hoof to admire her hoofwork. Rough circles were impressed into the stone which was puny beneath her; it was just as easy as smashing an unsatisfying filly’s ass. “How’s that for a cutie mark?” the milky apparition of herself in the polished floor seemed to say, and smirked. “Why, it was downright poetic, a vague suggestion of infinity filling with the blood of a being who would rejoin the infinite within moments,” continued the suave self-spectre. Splitting pain tore through her chest and played in and out of her gasping heart. She chased the pieces from the floor back into place with desperate swipes. They refused to align and to cover up the blight. With her magic she switched them, turned them over and jammed them into the hole repeatedly, but the damage could not be undone. She nervously cast her gaze over her maned shoulder, ashamed to be seen despite her splendor. No one remained nearby to investigate the commotion, even if they dared. She could stand no more of this. Whoever had sent these tormenting spirits would be sorely disappointed. Who cares? Everypony else could, but not the great Celestia. She didn’t give more than a fuck for fillies, or soldiers or cities. “Celestia is better than everything else,” she screamed in her mind, gritting her teeth. “Celestia is all.” Perhaps she would remember her pride if she raised the sun. It was earlier than usual, but why put up with any more of that awful moon? It was hers to bring the dawn. Hers, only, to give life to this world, so didn’t she have the right to take it away? They should all be grateful. But they weren’t and she wasn’t. She wanted more and she wanted to throw it all away. The windowed doors to the balcony flung open at her approach. She was greeted with mournful wails and haunting strains from Octavia’s window somewhere below. “That’s not what you’re supposed to play,” she thought, “when I raise the glorious sun!” She planted herself firmly and reached out desperately with all her power. The darkness rolled back like a flood. The sun exploded over the horizon, pouring orange light upon the eastern faces of the city below. Mountains, plains, and civilizations awakened with a start at her will. Still the dirge rose louder and more desolate. The air grew heavier around her as if the haunting presence was unimpressed with her display. To her the sun was an extension of her glorious self, but now she remembered it had been there before her and was given to her. The light rushed to her and the balcony gleamed. She felt something terrible in it, but could not look away. No use! It was worse out here. She strained to hold on to her mind, but that scraping emptiness consumed more and more. All the power, the vices were lacking, and floating away. Her pupils shrank further to tiny specks as the conceit, hatred, and lust stretched out over nothing. The pain grew and told her of her shame, her loneliness. She could feel her evil deeds boiling riotously in her veins. A huge, piercing beam was now between her and the sun. Her horn glowed with heat instead of magic and the mark of the sun seethed on her flank. The music struck harmony with the gnawing within and the scalding without. Her pupils, her windows to the world, were now like pinpricks on the vacuous expanse of her eyes as they were pulled down to what little was left inside. She screamed aloud as the totality of her afflictions burst into the physical world. The ill-fitting beauty of the tyrant-Princess lapsed into disease and accuracy. She threw open her wings, which dripped feathers like rain around her. The strains of the violin rose, now shrill and wrathful, the sun steamed on her hide, and her scream attempted to tear its way out of every part of her body. Her features stretched as skin became like melting porcelain. It disgorged itself in viscous globs and splattered on the stone, sizzling louder and merging its noise to her continuing scream. The magnificent mane bleached and fell out or sank into the slime. Her flesh, black under the white veneer, reeked of death and excrement as it rolled off of her. Her horn disintegrated into something like rust and soon was no more. Her cry fell as her throat clogged with the dead matter, and the sun crashed back into the horizon as the balcony dripped and sizzled in the darkness. Author's Note http://celestial-swordsman.deviantart.com/gallery/#/art/FALL-385024295?_sid=7a4a661b Alternate cover BubblesChapter 6 Ditzy Doo returned after a frantic shift. Some mail was misdelivered in the chaotic influx and stubborn darkness, but at times like these ponies should be happy the postal service ran at all. Ditzy undid her saddle bag on the porch and stepped inside. To her surprise the light was on, and Dusk was nervously wiping up a mess on the kitchen side of the room. “Uh, hello?” she said, unsure how to react. “Oh, hey, you’re back!” Dusk exclaimed, turning her head to look at Ditzy halfway. Dusk leaned down and pulled a pan out of the oven. “I made some muffins for you! The first ones were really burnt, though, so I ate them,” she said with a sheepish smile. “Turns out I don’t mind burnt stuff, weird, huh?” Ditzy’s jaw dropped and her mail bag flopped to the floor. “You made MUFFINS?!” she squealed. “How did you know?” “Well,” Dusk replied, “it’s practically the only recipe you have. I’m really sorry about the whole… fruit thing, I guess I’m really sensitive about some things.” Ditzy flew across the room and hugged a very startled Dusk. “Ohthankyou, Dusk! Muffins are my favorite!” Dusk didn’t know how to take the gesture. “Um, you’re welcome, Ditzy. I just thought it was the least I could do after you took me in and everything and I was such an as…, a f…, a bi…,” Dusk fumbled apologetically through her blacklisted vocabulary, “a bad pony.” “Aw, it’s okay,” the blonde assured. “Please, call me Derpy Hooves.” “Score,” Dusk thought. It felt good to be in the inner circle, but she really shouldn’t be. Was Derpy a little shallow? Muffins can take her from betrayal to BFF? Well, actually, it didn’t look that bad from Derpy’s perspective. All she knew about was the bananas, not the nocturnal creepiness or the hater graffiti. It wouldn’t do any good to bring that up. Derpy took a warm muffin, held it up, and took a big sniff. Her lazy eye slowly settled into rare alignment on the treasured pastry. She took a bite and savored it. “Mmm, nom, nom, it’s so good!” Derpy was in total bliss with every bite. Dusk was happy just to watch her be happy. She finished cleaning up while Miss Hooves enjoyed every single muffin. But when Dusk was done, there was one left standing in the muffin pan in front of the blond Pegasus. Derpy seemed lost in thought. “It’s okay, you don’t have to save one for me, I already had the burnt ones, remember?” Dusk insisted, but by the time she finished she knew that wasn’t it. A solitary tear fell into a muffin cup. Derpy set the tray down and picked up the last muffin gingerly. She studied it longingly, obviously no longer looking at a pastry. Dusk followed her as she walked out onto the porch. Derpy turned the corner onto the edge of the house facing north. She scooped out a hoof-sized dollop of cloud and placed the muffin on it. Sitting and holding the cloud muffin in both hooves, she said softly, “This one’s for you, Dinky.” A gentle push sent it drifting away into the shadowy sky. They watched it wordlessly until it was out of sight. Dusk didn’t want to intrude but she had to ask, “Who’s Dinky?” “Oh, I didn’t tell you?” Derpy realized out loud. “She’s my filly. I love that little Dinky Doo.” “What happened to her?” Dusk had to know. “She’s okay,” Derpy said with a little relief. “She’s staying with my cousin till I can get back on my hooves. I didn’t want to move here but this was the only place I could get a job. I didn’t want to weigh down my cousin any more. He’s not too well-off either. I was supposed make us a home and then have Dinky brought up here. That was two months ago. Now, with the economy and everything, I can’t pay the bills. I need a raise, but my boss is always mad at me. It looks like I derped up again. I miss my Dinky.” They went back inside. This time Dusk noticed a picture of Derpy holding a tiny gray-and-blond unicorn with a googly smile. Dusk looked at herself in the mirror. Derpy chimed lyrically, “Time to tuck you in for bed.” Dusk wasn’t afraid tonight, but she let Derpy wrap her up tight in a cloud again. She could see in Derpy’s smile that the sweet pegasus took pleasure in mothering. Dusk, a pitiful and helpless gray pegasus, had appeared while the lonely mail carrier was wishing for her little gray filly. Derpy circled her blue bed puff before settling down. Before she laid her head, she noticed that her adopted house guest was staring sadly out the door. “What’s wrong?” she asked. Dusk didn’t turn from the horizon, but answered, “I just can’t believe the sun won’t come up. We’ll be in darkness forever. Till we’re gone, anyway.” The resilient Derpy Hooves remarked, “I’m surprised we have as much sunlight as we do. This way it won’t get much too cold. We have light enough to see and dark enough to sleep. I think the sun would fall all the way if no one was holding it up, you know. That means someone is helping, someone cares about us. That means there’s still hope.” Dusk was surprised that underneath her silly exterior Derpy was so perceptive. Who was holding the sun? There was only one answer. The moon had been full and floating in the middle of the sky the whole time. Now she was impressed with another pony. “Luna, you would do that?” she thought. Didn’t the night Princess want endless darkness? Now she must be breaking all the laws of the heavens to hold her moon up and keep the sun from disappearing completely. She was holding out as much light as she could as long as she could to help her ponies and her world. Even now she must be straining herself to hold on to the massive sun while Solar forces marched to kill her. Dusk was finally learning to pick her heroes. “Good night, Duskie.” Duskie? Oh well. “Good night, Derpy.” After hours of deep sleep, a small wet impact on her nose woke Dusk. She opened her big black eyes but saw nothing. A few seconds later an indistinct and unreal shape glided out the door. Small dots of light appeared as it departed out into the air beyond. There was a low breath and a flutter behind her, but she remained motionless. Another shape moved into view. It was more outline than object, a round distortion in reality. “Oh,” Dusk thought, breaking the suspense. “It’s a bubble.” The bubble rose, almost hit the doorframe, but with a quick dip and a bob it was out of view. It was soon replaced by a slower bubble that floated straight out the middle of the door and hovered in the light outside. The city cast neon specks onto it from below and the moon reflected off the top. Its shimmering surface spun, rolling ethereal waves over the reflected panorama. The green and pink ripples flowed over the globe and broke into eddies and whorls. Her huge eyes took in every ray of light. She followed a green wave out onto the bubble’s horizon, where it refracted into the sky. As if in a trance she was immediately aware of the spinning of the heavens. The tiny, drab city was a speck in a velvety surface of translucent green as the wave blew from pole to pole of the microscopic world, flowing through time and space from Derpy to Dinky, to Luna, and back over the world to herself. Half-real, it drifted from one pony who cared to the other like a thin ray of foolish hope as it traversed an ornate tapestry creased by distance, time, and unstoppable events which held them apart. Dusk gasped. The unexpected gust sent the fragile microcosm crashing into the porch. It lay there limp, its ripples bouncing insignificantly off the surface of the cloud until it finally burst. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Derpy said noticing Dusk’s extreme reaction. “Are my”—she tilted her head and rolled her eyes around in confusion—“bubbles bothering you?” “No!” Dusk glanced at her and stammered, “More, I need more—“and spun her head back to the door and stared out, straining her huge eyes expectantly. Miss Hooves, pleased with the impact of her playful masterpiece let out a pleasant “Okay, here we go.” With a dip and a puff of the bubble blower, the translucent orbs poured out once again over the dim stars on the hazy sky. Now that she had an audience she was putting on a real show. Three bubbles, four bubbles, ten bubbles made a procession out the door. As long as Dusk respired very calmly, not a one fell on the cloud or strayed into the rest of the apartment. With a quick twitch of her wingtips or odd little huffs, Derpy seemed to have some influence on their flight. Scores of bubbles swirled by in erratic patterns. Next a solitary bubble swung lazily just above the floor before hitting some updraft near the doorway. Another bubble that Dusk hadn’t seen descended and met it in midair. The two flattened against each other as they exited together. Was that supposed to happen? It happened again. Dusk looked in shock at Derpy, who was concentrating heavily on her freshly-dipped bubble loop. She blew once to make two bubbles, and again to make a large one. She lit up with joy and wonder as her little creations went forth. Her eyes spun with the twirling spheres as they dipped and bobbed past Dusk. The two bubbles lightly touched and fused near the top of the door and fell down onto the larger orb, which sank under the weight and fell off the edge of the cloud. Derpy readied herself again and blew. As two more bubbles emerged her “derpy” eyes swirled, she tilted her head, and with a calculated breath of her nostrils sent one tiny balloon shooting right past the other. The second was pulled into its wake and as they slowed down they orbited each other an inch apart. They danced around each other, and Dusk held her breath as they did loops over her head before following all the others out into the dim of the evening. Realizing a sudden craving, Dusk asked, “How high can they go?” “Let’s see!” Derpy asked. It had been awhile since anyone was interested. She used extra soap to make a huge, relatively solid bubble. Dusk got up to follow it outside. The orb floated up and she watched it hopefully. However, in the open air it was beyond Derpy’s influence. To Dusk’s disappointment it was intercepted by another cloud home. Seeing her sudden dejection, Derpy knew what had happened. Without being asked, the bubble master launched a second glistening bubble. It got much higher but popped too soon. A third lofted up straight and true. Rising above the cloud homes, the mountain and the world, it shrank out of view. A continued stare paid off; it reappeared as it struck sunlight, reflecting a tiny glimpse of the sun itself. This is what Dusk had been waiting for. Real sunlight had always brought her joy. This time, however, that one glint of pure white light burned into her eyes and sent a painful prick down her spine. She yelped and jumped back. “Are you okay? Do I need to stop?” Derpy said, confused but concerned. “No,” Dusk said, lowering herself back into her cloud blanket, “don’t stop.” Derpy didn’t need to be told twice and continued her show, but now with smaller and more sensitive bubbles to avoid any incidents. Derpy’s twisted vision somehow allowed her to see the random, twisting movements before they happened. To her, it was as if they moved in straight lines. Dusk knew the feeling. The happenings of the bubble world played out with cause and effect that controlled the uncontrollable, seemed to defy belief but were still there. Random acts hid patterns, and each bubble was sent out with the purpose to achieve objectives of which it was unaware. It was just like the real world that way. Dusk had made her own chain reactions, which floated out one after the other out of sight to reach their goals. Hers had never been as beautiful or innocent as Derpy’s. They had been more important, but not better. Watching the carefree, unimportant, beautiful display, she concluded that Derpy’s were on another level far beyond hers. Why had she done so many things to cause so much pain? She sighed. “I wish I could undo a lot of my life. It’s like a bubble, though: you can send it out but you can’t take it back.” Derpy paused but said nothing. She sighed as well, blowing out one mournful bubble. It drifted toward the exit to be forever lost. She raised up her hind end and spread her wings out very slowly and carefully. With her chest still on the bed and her front hooves bracing her against the bed, she looked like a playful puppy. As the orb slipped through the doorframe, she jerked her wings back against her sides, pulling the air past her. The bubble tumbled back into the room and nearly collided with the ceiling. It was now a full-body exercise as Derpy twitched her tail artfully, flapped a stray wing, and took odd breaths through pursed lips. The bubble circled about and wandered by the oven before gently hovering in front of Derpy Hooves. The pony held out her bubble-blower and the bubble obediently landed on its source. She brought it to her mouth and breathed in gently. It collapsed back onto the soapy loop without popping. “What was that?” Dusk said with disbelief. Derpy grinned. “I just took back a bubble. There’s always hope for a bubble until it pops.” They went back to sleep, but Dusk knew the morning would not be the same. It would not be safe or easy, but that didn’t matter now. You can take a bubble back. The Goddess ReturnsChapter 18 The Goddess Returns Dusk stood as if posed in the center of the offering pool. With the blood added, the glassy surface now washed over her hooves. Twilight occupied the small platform by the edge and was engrossed in a spell book on the podium in front of her. She read by candlelight; shadow was more conducive to the strange and sometimes sinister mysticisms referred to collectively as dark magic. The General stood beside the enchanter’s dais and stared at the subject. He was so quiet that Twilight would think he was asleep if she didn’t understand his fixation. He usually slept standing, because he could not comfortably lie down in his armor. When he awoke, he would often curse Luna for his dark dreams. “Is it ready?” he asked. She broke her fixation with the text, where she had been absorbed in repeated recalculations and a last review. “Well, yes, but I don’t know if it will work,” Twilight cautioned. “I’ve never tried anything like this before.” Spike, still impressed with the general, boasted, “Well, I’m sure! Me and Twi make the best team in all Equestria! If there’s anypony who can cast this spell right, it’s Twilight Sparkle.” She shot him glare; she had told him to stop trying to impress her brother. Still weighing her doubts, Twilight stalled, “Are you sure we should do this? It’s such a drastic spell, and she’s very weak. She might not even survive.” Dusk knew what General Armor would say. If she couldn’t be everything he needed, he would rather she was dead. He was ruthless that way. She had made sure of it. The deranged mind and insidiously corrupt power that had made him what he was could not be allowed to walk the earth again. The thought of becoming all of that again was unbearable. A cold armored hoof lifted her face into a colder stare and she forced a firm look past her desperation. “If our dear Celestia is in there, she’s unstoppable, unkillable,” he declared with reverence. He had tried once. During one of their evening encounters, she had pushed him too far. He attacked her madly, stabbing her with his horn. The struggle was over in seconds; he was no match for her magic. Had the wound been deeper, the outcome could have been different. Any who threatened her must die, but she spared him. Her vanity told her that he was still under her control. If she had made a mistake, she would fix it: he was too close to completion. If she called for assistance or sought her own healing in that moment he would indeed be ruined. She was bleeding, but she showed no pain or concern. Instead, she lay on him where he was immobilized, speaking sweetly to him and torturing him slowly. It was creative and methodical. She only paused to staunch the flow from her breast when she was sure he was distracted with his own torment. Her blood mixed with his as they were pressed spitefully together. Through the hate and pain, she found the experience strangely intimate and intoxicating. By the magical bonding of unicorns, she shared her demented soul. It was the only way she could reproduce herself. She never allowed her womb to bear any offspring who would consider themselves heirs to her throne. Thus that night passed, and by morning, General had regained his superstitious awe of her immortality. Now he searched with his eyes for that scar. The ever-pristine goddess had disguised it well to her subjects, but if you knew where to look… Dusk realized she hadn’t checked. Was it there? All those awful memories seemed like a dream, and she liked to mentally separate herself from Celestia. He looked hard, and grew suspicious. “Maybe I really am a different pony,” she thought. Suddenly his eyes widened and lit up with satisfaction above his wicked smile. She wilted inside. Same scars, same pony. He had wounded her, years ago, in her very real past. I made up Dusk in the prison. I’m Celestia. I’m the monster. A tear pushed past the spell Trixie had cast on her eyes. The General cut his eyes towards Doctor Sparkle, quickly hiding his satisfaction to conceal his twisted past. “She’ll survive,” he concluded. “This is no way for her to live anyway.” “Anything to raise the sun, right?” Twilight said before reading the opening verses of the incantation in the book. She cleaned out her mind, lowered her horn, and began to send out her light to do its work. Dusk’s mind raced as the offering pool began to bubble about her legs. If this spell worked, she would again be flooded with the desire and power to rule, abuse, and hurt ponies like Derpy and Trixie. That couldn’t happen. A ceremonial dagger hung on the end of one of the new bookcases for dark magic. Maybe her horn had grown back enough to let her draw the knife to herself. “If I feel like I’m really changing back,” she thought, “I can just pull it here to my throat and--” she shuddered. She was afraid of dying. Being “restored” also seemed like dying. “Here’s hoping for a fail,” was her only grasp for survival. The black water turned warm around her hooves. Was it just the bubbles, and the way the pink light shimmered in the churning water, or was something moving in there? Whoa, don’t freak out. None of the stuff on the edge is getting used up, so it hasn’t really started yet. Don’t kill yourself over nothing. She tried to stay alert and ready to react, feeling the hilt of the knife with her mind. The spell’s opening completed, Twilight moved to the propagation phase with intense concentration. Her magic light shone brighter towards the subject. Dusk squinted into the glaring beam until all she could see was white. She tried to move her body or her mind but found herself transfixed. It’s too late! The thorns on the roses tore off forcefully and fell into the pool of their own accord. The floor and bookcases began to rattle. The unicorns and dragon coughed as dust and cobwebs took flight from every corner of the library and settled into the water. Twilight stammered, without dropping her concentration on the magic process, “Something’s wrong! Spell… so hard… to control!” Spike added, “I’m no expert, but shouldn’t it be using the stuff we gathered?” “No, nothing’s wrong,” the older brother stated cryptically. “It’s so right, it’s so… Celestia. Keep going!” Twilight shot a quick glance at him. “Who is the expert here?” she privately objected. Despite her misgivings, she did keep going. Nails pulled backwards out of wooden floors and bookcases before scraping and clattering over the edge of the pool. A stone slab from the ceiling was pulled into the water, burst into pieces, and dissolved. The oil from the lamps, various metal objects including the dagger, and a few select books joined the undirected brew. The unwanted items shoved their way through fruits, tore the silks, and scattered the flour and incense. Various items slipped into the mixture unidentified. Sensing a tug, the armored disciple braced himself against the floor and backed away. Dusk could no longer perceive the outside world, but was lost in a strange fog of feelings and thoughts: Shit, this better be a dream. I guess I’m dead. Well, maybe not. I may be the same pony, but I’ve changed, right? If the spell doesn’t take away the memories of the last week, I’ll still be sort of me. Still, it sort of sucks to be Dusk anyway. Uh, I would rather be myself than some other psycho pony. But I sure would appreciate it if I wasn’t so stupid weak. Again, under the circumstances, that hardly seems important. Well I can’t wait to not be ugly. Ugly, sick, and small. Who doesn’t have a cutie mark anyway? There’s nothing good about being me. Ugh, I’m such a mistake I make myself cry. Um, hello? I’d still like to live. I’m not ready to die, and I think I’m better than Celestia in some weird ways I can’t quite put into words. This is way too conversational, what is up with that? Am I sure I don’t want to rule again? Life was so much better in the palace. The world loved me, and treated me like I was important. Not like trash. Dusk is trash. I’m not trash, motherfucker! Great, now I’m insulting myself. I’m finally losing it. I had way more fun when I was a goddess. What would you do for some dope, you little addict? You had plenty of it. And plenty of power and sex. Because I wasn’t such an ugly little bitch I couldn’t get laid. Hey! The world didn’t love me anyway. I never even knew what it was. Derpy loved me, picked me up out of nothing and made me feel special. She cared about me for who I was and not cause she had to. And Trixie? She almost died for me, with no expectations or even me asking. That’s better than anything I had as Celestia. Celestia burned those old reports on friendship cause she couldn’t stand that somepony else had something that she couldn’t. Stop acting like you care so much about other ponies, when did that start? Remember how much fun it is to make some pony so scared and powerless? They have to act like they love you when they hate you so much, isn’t it funny? Remember how exhilarating it is to have so much control that you pin them down and do whatever you want with them, and they have to smile? No! I don’t feel that way any more! That’s not me, who said that?! “I did.” OH SHIT. The enchanted broth turned to an opaque white around the paralyzed alicorn. The glossy substance began to ooze up her right legs, clutching and enveloping. Who are you? I faced your temptations and I still want to be me. That means I passed the test, right? So you can’t do anything to me. Get out of my mind, now, or I’m gonna kick you out. “I don’t think so. Cute to see you angry though. This is going to be more fun than I thought.” Dusk felt searing pain and then numbness as the mysterious mixture crawled up her. A stream of the warm, writhing thing flowed up her neck and began pooling on the right side of her face. “Stupid filly, you can’t kick me out of your mind because it’s MY mind. Of course you know who I am. I’m you. I’m Celestia.” No, you’re not me. You can’t be. “Very well, you’re totally right. I am a goddess. All bow to me as I control the sun and the moon. The heavens bend to my will, and in a short while, all Equestria will realize that it is mine. You— you’re nothing. You’re pathetic, lost, and desperate without me. But I don’t need you at all. What good are you?” I’m not nothing, I’m a pony. I’m a mare, an important mare, and I’m going to stop your war and put things back together. It’s still my body, so I’ll use my magic and dispel you! “You’re a bitch. Now relax and let me put you back together.” Now the slime was advancing up her left legs too. The white collected as flesh across Dusk’s side and took hold of her wing. The wing held itself up as it grew full and powerful and stretched out great gleaming feathers, putting her other tattered wing to shame with its magnificence. Green, blue, and pink fibers squirmed out of her neck, pushing out clumps of her drab mane. Celestia’s features grew over the right side of Dusk’s face; the deity’s massive half-formed face bulged around the grey head. Coming into control of itself, Celestia’s eye strained to look down at Dusk, who cringed away from “herself”. “I’ll put you back together. Ah, of course, your heart is on the other side, so it will be a bit longer. Mmm, now I control our breathing, isn’t that interesting? Ha, even better, now I have control of THAT. Do you feel that? Do you like it?” NO! “I wonder if you can feel anything anymore. I bet you don’t even know how much you’re crying. Come, come, I’ll make it all better. You are mine now, isn’t that wonderful? You won’t have to hurt ever again, my little pony.” I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me! I don’t want to die! “I knew you could beg. I could keep a little of you in my subconscious for when I’m bored. Do you want to live forever? I might keep you around if you beg some more.” Dusk screamed as hard as she could, but little made it out into the world. Celestia realized the Dusk side of their body was collapsing and steadied herself until those legs became white, enveloped, and hers. She grinned greedily as she consumed more and more, slowly closing around what remained of the weaker identity. She twisted their head and pushed Dusk’s face down towards the rest of her fading self. As she spoke, she moved Dusk’s jaw as well, and seemed to gobble up the pony as her grinning mouth opened and closed. Unbeknownst to the hybrid thing, Celestia had for some time been so dominant that she was speaking her thoughts aloud. Twilight stared in confusion and revulsion at her teacher’s predatory progress. “You’re mine now, you pathetic thing. You’re mine, but I don’t even want you.” When it wasn’t carried away by Celestia’s movement, Dusk’s mouth gaped in pain and horror. “Cheer up, I’m the best thing that ever happened to you. Smile, bitch.” The swollen pale tongue licked its drooling lips before pushing up on Dusk’s cheek to force her to match her partner’s deranged expression. Celestia’s eyes dilated in ecstasy. “Smile and die, bitch!” She suddenly became aware of the outside world and the others staring. The huge malevolent eye moved from Twilight to the General, who joined her in twisted satisfaction. “Hello. I’m back,” she said smugly. Twilight pulled herself away in shock, furrowed her brow angrily, and shot back, “Not yet, you aren’t.” She turned her head and magic attention to the cloudy red gem she had concealed. She flung it towards her brother and made it explode before he could react, sending out sparkling powder. He reared back angrily and froze, stunned by the enchanted dust. “You little traitor, you think you can face ME?” challenged most of Empress Celestia. Doctor Sparkle said sternly, “Smile and die, bitch.” She put all of her strength back into the spell and the pages of the spell book turned backwards. She groaned heavily as she struggled to bring it back under control. Her pink light shot out in a concentrated beam that blasted liquefying white flesh backwards. The goddess gave a final scream as she bubbled and peeled back off of Dusk’s flesh as if blown away by a gust of wind. White matter splattered greasily over floor, walls, and rare literature. With no one to hold her, Dusk pitched face down into the remnant of the fluid in the offering pool. Twilight gasped and staggered. Spike, thoroughly confused, shouted, “What are you doing!?” The exhausted magician stumbled hastily to her patient and pulled her face out of the noxious fluid. “Are you alive?” she asked, putting her hoof on Dusk’s neck. Feeling a pulse, she turned to her dumbfounded assistant and put forth, “Spike, if you trust me at all, help me resuscitate her right away. I must get out of here quickly.” Far Side of the MoonChapter 29: Far Side of the Moon Princess Luna and her army returned to their previous encampment. On the way, the astronomically necessary alicorn traveled in a gilded silver carriage; she could exert herself to keep the sun near the horizon at the same time that she was walking or talking, but not both. Her loyal magicians kept pace with her and assisted; they could not reach the sun, but they could impart some of their energy and concentration to her. Applejack told Luna how Twilight, Rainbow Dash, Rarity and Fluttershy had come to them. Luna was interested to note that the six of them were together again. Applejack did not, however, mention Celestia. All she said of the bizarre little pegasus was that Twilight thought she held the key to raising the sun. She hated the feeling of not telling the whole truth, but she didn’t know how to say it to Luna. Each time the major came close to revealing her theory, she stumbled over the apparent absurdity of it and second-guessed her reasoning. Luna told her the details about the destruction of Ponyville and reassured her that it had indeed been evacuated. Then Luna departed her side with the intention of arriving in camp well ahead of the main force. She felt awful that she hadn’t been able to prepare the Princess for what she would soon face. It was uncharacteristic Premier to leave her soldiers without explanation. Troops wondered what was going on as true night fell. For a while, the full moon hung reassuringly in the middle of the sky, but then it too began a slow descent. Reaching the camp, Applejack immediately found Luna’s tent. The guards outside told her to wait. “The Premier is not to be disturbed,” they insisted. Time passed, and other officers and messengers joined the major. The guards began to sense they were obeying their orders to the point of foolishness; the Princess had not said she was indisposed for a great deal of time, and the pressure of things that needed her attention was building. Even so, no pony would be the first to enter; they loved Luna, but she was an angel of darkness to be feared and respected. Finally Applejack felt that her errand was too important to wait; she took off her hat and entered the tent alone. There were two chambers to the place; the outer room was laid out as a war room. Maps with scattered formation markers were spread over tables. A long distance radio sat in one corner; on the other side was an area for assisting magicians to wait on her, complete with high-end spell books and potions. The freckled pony cautiously advanced through the space to the curtain-door of the inner chamber. She looked up to see the magical warrior’s armor hanging as if it was itself on watch. It was one articulated piece, giving it the appearance of a sinister silver skeleton. Applejack noticed a small dent on its slick surface, and wondered if anyone else had seen it. “Princess Luna?” she said, but received no reply. She pulled the curtain aside just enough to see. She was not prepared for the sight. The noble alicorn was sprawled across her bed in an undignified posture. She snuggled with a misshapen dragon doll and the old abacus, and snored softly. The Princess seemed smaller now. The edge of a warm wool blanket lay haphazardly over her side, with her flank poking out awkwardly. No longer framed as geopolitical heraldry, the dark sky of her cutie mark blotched playfully across her rump and chest. Her mane and tail lay still as they rarely did these days; they were a lighter blue than the skin they pooled around and scarce a twinkling star was to be seen. Her face had released the tension that usually held it firm, but her tightly shut eyes kept a sense of concern. Her expression was wistful. It seemed to Applejack that the Princess had been abducted and replaced with something… vulnerable… and cute. It was no surprise that Luna’s private apartment was royally furnished, but Applejack did not expect its character. Rich tapestries formed a wall of cool tones around the bedroom. Depicted in excellent quality were innocuous and youthful nighttime scenes. Several showed Luna as a filly or young pony, curled up tightly, prancing on clouds, or flying with the moon. All of these were incomplete, though. They were asymmetrically framed, as if they were meant to face an equal embroidery that complemented them. Some had clearly been cut down the middle, heedlessly dissecting elements of the tranquil scenes. One showed the diurnal cycle; it was the classic image of the yin and yang of the sun and moon, Celestia and Luna forever circling each other. Since it was Luna’s, it may have even been the original. Now it was split in two, and only the night remained. Applejack appreciated it as a gesture of independence, but could not shake the fact that it was somehow sad. The disconnected portrait showed unnatural yang without yin. Luna was caught in a teardrop falling through space. Completely apart in style and theme was a painting of what must have been the moon. It was painted with quick, decisive black brush strokes. Applejack wasn’t sure it was the moon though; there was no mare in the moon. Instead, the white orb was cracked and battered, its pristine surface viscerally damaged. Applejack caught herself gawking. She stepped in to give the Princess a gentle shake. Luna inhaled sharply and jerked her head up. On reflex she started to hide the abacus under herself, but she froze and looked up into her faithful subject’s eyes. She glanced around her comforting little sanctuary and back to Applejack, who followed her gaze. Luna sighed. Mutual awareness could not be retracted. “Sorry, I didn’t know,” Applejack sympathized. “You were not meant to, but it is alright,” Luna allowed. “Do not speak of it,” she requested softly. With reserved consideration, she added, “I suppose it will not really matter at the end.” “If you’ll pardon my asking, what’s that?” Applejack asked, gesturing at the mysterious painting. “It is the moon,” Luna stated simply. “But—“ Applejack started to object, but hesitated, not wanting to offend. “But that is not what it looks like?” the Princess completed knowingly. “That is how it appears from the other side, but it only shows one face to Equestria. That is what Equestria needs.” They reflected on the figureless, blasted landscape a moment before Luna inquired, “How long have I been asleep? “Maybe a couple hours,” the major reported. The Princess shook her head; she had not meant to desert her post so. “What requires my attention?” “Twilight and the others are waiting to speak with you like you said,” Applejack remembered. The alicorn gingerly lifted the blanket off of her wounded wing and rose up to her full height. It was only an illusion, but she seemed to stretch herself larger. She stepped past Applejack and closed the curtain behind them. “I hope you do not think me dishonest. What am I supposed to do?” Applejack was silent. With a deep breath, the Princess donned her crown. She continued to wonder, “Have I done wrong? I wanted to protect my ponies, but I may have led them to death.” She stepped under her armor and let it close around her. “You stood up for what was right, it’s not your fault it didn’t go your way,” Applejack reassured. Luna nodded her helmeted head. “Are you gonna see them in private?” the earth pony asked. “No,” Luna replied. “My soldiers have given up everything for me and their country, and now they are losing hope. They deserve to hear what is left to fight for.” She closed her eyes tightly as the spirit of strength and determination rose inside her again. Dark blue flowed out of her body along the hairs of her mane and tail, and they began to ripple once more. Sharp points of light appeared as the stars reasserted themselves. The warrior Princess opened her eyes. “Let us now choose our history.” A bare hill to the west of the camp made a natural meeting area. By the time Luna arrived to take her place on top of the hill, it had been prepared for her arrival. Not by her insistence but by her supporters’ devotion, a small shrine awaited her. She sat on ample cushions under a pavilion of gold lace on purple linen, flanked by large Lunar banners. Magicians and guards stood to either side. A carpet was rolled partway down the gentler slope of the hill to delineate the area of royal audience. Troops trampled down the grass and low weeds as they gathered, and officers lined up to form an aisle leading up to her. Usually, the Senate would have been present for decisions of great importance and necessary to authorize action. Fortunately, it was already arranged that the Premier would be granted emergency war powers should the Empire invade, and costly delays could be avoided. Applejack left the Princess to collect her friends. Those six mares who seemed to somehow fall into destiny moved up the hill together to the bottom edge of the carpet. As the two Solars seeking audience, Doctor Sparkle and Captain Dash advanced toward the Princess, who waited with her moon shining behind her. They were aware of multiple weapons, including anti-magic weapons, readied in case the commando and dark magician threatened Luna. The precautions were understandable, but Luna was not concerned. She started the meeting by addressing the crowd, “This is Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash. While they may have been our enemies, they have come peacefully. Even yesterday they saved the lives of many Solar and Lunar soldiers.” Having cleared their names, she opened the floor: “You have come seeking my audience, and now you have it.” Twilight found herself nervous under the gaze of Luna and her army, especially with the message she had to tell. Rainbow Dash’s nonchalant presence and the sheer necessity helped her steady herself, and she raised her voice, “Princess Luna, you are powerful, but your arts are not enough to raise the sun. Regardless of who wins, Equestria cannot survive without its light.” Luna gave a nod. “This war started when Celestia disappeared and the sun fell; I believe there’s hope for peace if it rises again,” Twilight asserted more boldly. “I’m here because I know where Celestia is, and that she wants to stop the war.” The assembled troops murmured doubtfully. The Princess, too, was suspicious of her sister’s intentions. “She has been—hurt—and the General has taken control of the Empire,” she continued. “As strange as it may be, she is asking for your help.” After a moment of shocked silence, dissenting and even mocking voices could be heard. Luna frowned; she feared the situation would force her hoof. Should the world go on if it could only be ruled by evil? She had not decided. In any case, she was not entirely convinced that her sister was alive; she could not imagine herself being separated from the moon while she still had breath. “Where is she and what help does she require?” “I think she should tell you herself,” Twilight replied, and signaled. Rarity and Fluttershy stood aside from Dusk, who had been largely unnoticed. Luna’s eyes shot to Applejack, who returned an apologetic expression. Dusk, looking dreary and slightly pathetic, loped up the aisle with her head down. She passed Dash and Twilight, and proclaimed feebly, “I am Celestia.” Some laughed at the implausibility of it. Luna knew when she saw Dusk what she would say. Instead of reacting as she did at first, Luna resolved to hold back her emotions until she was sure they would not be wasted. “If you are Celestia, remove your disguise and show yourself,” she demanded. “I can’t. There is no disguise,” Celestia said, shaking her head. “This is how I am now.” One of the magicians attending the moon Princess cast a dissolution spell on her, but the small grey one remained the same. “The F! She’s not even an alicorn!” somepony shouted. “Dusk” pulled back her carefully arranged mane to display her stumpy horn. The surrounding eyes stared at her, and some narrowed hatefully. “Celestia should die!” a voice called. “Kill her!” Twilight and Rainbow Dash moved to protect her, but aid from Solars only fed the crowd’s anger. “SILENCE! ORDER!” Luna’s great voice boomed. “She is under my protection until I make my judgment.” The ranks were hushed; none would disrespect her authority. She fixed her gaze intensely on Dusk. The diminutive alicorn sweated and her mouth went dry. “How can you be Celestia? What has happened?” “A force that I don’t understand struck me down and changed me so that I can’t control the sun,” Celestia explained. “I’ve consulted an artifact, and I think there is a way for me to be restored, but I need your help to do it.” Still in denial, Luna probed, “Speak like my sister, and show us what you know.” Celestia considered the challenge, before replying, “I know you.” She shook her head again, lamenting, “I should’ve loved you, but I was an awful bitch to you.” Refocusing on the test she continued, “I know what you’ve been doing. Every day I caused death and discord within your borders. I hid my attacks in my light and in ripples of cause and effect. Every day I wondered how to cause you pain in secret. Every night I waited for your move. What shadows would conceal you, and how would you work your revenge?” The Imperial media held as fact that Luna regularly infiltrated their territory to stir up evil deeds and havoc. Even many in the Republic clung to the idea to ease their frustration. Celestia admitted the truth of the matter, “Every night you shamed me and stood resolute above me, for you made no reply to my insults and attacks. You never broke the treaty and you always watched over your own subjects. After all I’ve done, how can I say ‘I’m sorry’? It would be an insult. I’m shit next to you.” “You are perceptive,” the Premier said, “but Celestia is far too proud to grovel so.” “I was,” the fallen ruler insisted. “I know you. No one else does, do they? I still remember the truth, though I claimed you were all darkness and nightmares. Your own ponies know you as a light in the darkness, which is also who you are. They see a ruler, a warrior, a guardian. But that’s not what you wanted to be. You wanted…” Celestia came closer so that she would not have to speak as loudly. It seemed so wrong, so alien to the present world, that it was hard to verbalize. “You wanted to be the fairytale princess everyone told you that you would be while they made you grow up so fast. I remember when you weren’t a bold light. You were a pretty light—a sweet dream. That’s what you always said. When you went to sleep, I told you ‘Good morning,’ and then I made sure you did have a good morning. And every night, you told me, ‘Sweet dreams,’ and I knew I would have sweet dreams.” They were innocent words from polluted lips. The words hurt, as did the recollection. Each of them shared their most tender memories with their worst enemy. It was only pitiful, and agonizingly sad, to talk about the kind of innocence that they could never have again. Finally, this was testimony enough for Luna. She held her head high and looked down, her eyes wet with angry tears. All were motionless and silent. She stood like a monument, a worn but menacing gargoyle that watches over a cemetery. The air was heavy and oppressive as darkness gathered involuntarily around the Princess. Righteous wrath pooled in her chest like deep waters behind a dam. Here was everything that had hurt her and her ponies, a font of bitterness and betrayal. She felt too the loneliness of the moon forced to wander the sky alone, for her sister had long been dead to her, leaving no one who understood her existence. What mercy could she give to one so pitiless? She longed inwardly for a reunited family. But after all that she had been through, her mind reeled in horror at the thought of once again seeking Celestia’s love. “Leave!” she commanded from the darkness in a pained but stern royal voice. The servants and soldiers retreated from the hill. The ashen alicorn stood unflinching until she was carried away by royal guards. The moon rapidly abandoned the night sky, casting the land into real shadow. Total blackness and silence shrouded the crest of the hill from all else. Creatures StirringChapter 32 Troops moved for a day, while the Princess’s group waited in their hiding place. Though none had spoken out against Celestia, an unusual arrangement for the small camp was deemed wiser. Luna stayed at the edge of the camp, with the six friends guarding Celestia behind her. That night Celestia lay with her eyes closed until she was convinced the other ponies were asleep. The blanket moved off of her by silent magic and she carefully moved out from under it. She slunk out without drawing any attention, but in the clear sky Luna’s moon gazed down at her. “I have to be sure,” she defended, “I can’t fail this time. You wouldn’t understand, though, would you?” She thought of her sister in the battle for the Ponyville Gap. Luna chose to take the risk to save the townsfolk, and defeat had proved her wrong. Celestia assured herself that her sister was far too busy to be watching her right now. She moved quietly around the side of the tent until she was as close as she could get to where Rarity was sleeping. Her horn lit up her face. The magic light played through the neat curls that the stylist had given her and glistened on the oils that held them together and gave them their fullness. She knew the pain it would cause, but that was why she was there. Rarity wouldn’t forgive her, but then again she wouldn’t know. The guilty glow reflected back at her from a set of eyes right beside her. She gasped and jumped back, but recovered herself somewhat seeing that it was only Fluttershy. The yellow pony apologized, “I’m sorry I startled you.” Celestia was glad for the kind-hearted pony’s soft voice. “Why were you so frightened? Are you okay?” she asked, intent on helping. The old Princess marveled that the half-tamed pegasus had still doted over her after learning her true identity. It seemed safe to confide in such a disarming and reserved pony. Celestia confessed in a whisper, “Because I’m such a bad pony. I’m bad even when I try to do something good.” Fluttershy gave her a look of condolence, but instead of comforting her further, the feral pony sniffed the side of the tent inquisitively. She turned a surprisingly intense look to Celestia and demanded softly, “Were you being bad to Rarity?” “I’m sorry, but I had to,” the alicorn admitted. “You should be good to her. I mean, she’s been good to you,” Fluttershy rebuked. “You should stop.” Celestia shook her head sorrowfully and explained, “I know, but it’s for you and all the other ponies. I have to.” Fluttershy looked at her intensely for another second before bowing away. Her tiny voice gave a wavering ultimatum, “You need to stop. If you don’t, I’ll tell Rarity, if that’s okay. No, it IS okay. Please undo whatever you did, or I’ll have to stop you, but I don’t want to do that.” Celestia took the opportunity afforded by the larger pegasus’s emotional sensitivity to order firmly, “No, you won’t. I can’t stop, and I won’t. I don’t like it but it has to be done, do you understand?” The shy one hid behind her mane and whimpered, “Please.” Celestia harshly answered, “No.” She didn’t see the wild glint in Fluttershy’s eye, but she did see the pegasus turn and run. Celestia scolded herself for misjudging this one once again. She could not allow a witness to leave in such a distraught state. The small pony took chase, following Fluttershy out of the camp and into the treacherous forest. Celestia’s oversized pupils tracked the pink blur despite the thick shadows. Fluttershy had a way with the undergrowth that made it difficult to keep up. Celestia, in her dusk form, was smaller and could fit through tight gaps to maintain the pursuit. The shy one eluded her momentarily, but she soon saw a silky tail tuck behind a bush. She leapt over to the shrub but Fluttershy was away again. This hesitation showed Celestia that her quarry did not wish to escape completely, which was good. It would not do to tackle her, but rather to have her stop and talk it over. The pink tail slid over the edge of a rock as it slipped down a hole. The duskling crawled through the opening and paused, adjusting her senses to the real darkness. She attempted to regain her breath, but was disappointed to realize she had had all the exercise she could stand. After the entrance of the den, it opened up into a wider space, but she could not tell how far back it went. She took several cautious steps and lit the interior of the small cave with her magic. She didn’t want to corner Fluttershy too closely, but she wanted it to be clear that she had found the pegasus. Fluttershy looked down at her from the top of a round rock that lay under a rise in the ceiling. The pegasus looked at her flatly, no longer timid but immovable, like the rock. With renewed uncertainty, Celestia asked, “Fluttershy?” Something that curved around the rock behind Fluttershy shifted. Celestia concentrated her light to see what it was. A long form with gray and brown fur surrounded the yellow pony’s pedestal. The beam passed along its body and three pairs of shoulders, coming to an apprehensive focus on a narrow snout with fierce fangs. Red eyes blinked at the intruding alicorn and the creature gave a hissing growl. Celestia hastily diffused and dimmed her light and took a nervous step back. Fluttershy gently commanded, “Ripper, no. Friend.” Her guardian creature fell silent. The pegasus stared at her savage companion from her underworld throne. “Ever since the trouble, I have lived with the creatures of the forest—all the creatures of the forest,” she began. “Do you think I’m a freak for living with predators?” she asked, but seemed strangely unconcerned about the answer. “Ripper can eat nuts and berries for a while, but eventually he has to eat meat. I feel sorry for the poor little critters he eats, but it would be cruel to expect him to starve. Once he got hungry enough, he wouldn’t listen to me anyway. The jungle does what it will.” “But there is one thing I do,” she continued, changing her tone. “I have critters that are my friends. I won’t let Ripper eat them. He’s free to eat anything else, but when I tell him something is my friend, he leaves it alone.” Fluttershy turned to transfer the discussion onto Celestia. “I know on the inside you’re a big alicorn Princess. What you do is between you and worlds. You do big, important things, and I could never control you. But I do have friends. Rarity is my friend. You can’t hurt my friends. You’re going to undo whatever you did to Rarity.” The boldness of the wild pegasus and the fairness of her discourse—or perhaps the imposing fangs of the beast—forced Celestia to surrender. “Alright, I’ll undo it. First thing tomorrow, or you can tell them all about me,” she promised. Fluttershy jumped down beside her. She discarded threatening airs but held her dignity as she requested, “Please don’t tell the others about Ripper. They might not understand.” Not to be blackmailed, she added, “I don’t want them to think about me differently, but I know they would accept me anyway. But they’re a lot more likely to forgive you if you tell them what you did yourself.” Fluttershy strode confidently past and back into the leafy maze. Ripper followed close behind, smelling Celestia before moving on. The humbled alicorn also followed, sullenly. She added some spring to her step as she realized that she was not entirely certain how to get back to the camp herself. When the three neared the Lunar army, Ripper whined and shied away. Fluttershy turned back to nuzzle the carnivore fondly before sending him on his way. The ponies continued into camp. Before they went in to sleep, Fluttershy stopped Celestia and offered, “I may be a hermit but I do know something about friendship. If you apologize to Rarity instead of hiding everything, I think she’ll forgive you eventually. You’d be closer to being real friends afterward. Maybe if you would tell us what your problems are, we could help.” “I’ll think about it,” Celestia covered. Domestically IncorrectChapter 44 Celestia sat in the grass behind her house and watched the sunset. A hedgerow enclosed the back yard and let her be alone with her sky. She had set the scene with orange and pink as she felt herself suspended over the edge of the world. She met a layer of low clouds on her way down and painted them with a red-ochre. Here she was free to focus on her native element and on beauty. If anyone else was watching, so be it; but she was satisfied simply that it was there. She calmed and cooled, letting the stars push through as her dominion waned. Then for a moment she was not alone. She could feel Luna awaken behind her and take in the sky even as Celestia gave it up. This dusk did not linger, but came to a close as is the way of things. Now she could rest, her only duty completed for the day. There was a knock on the door, the front door. She got up and slipped quietly in the back door and prepared to answer her own door for the first time. Her thoughts were disturbed as she passed blank paper on the table. She had gone by a parent-sanctioned route and bought ink, but when she tried to write the letter to Trixie, words would not come. Not to keep her visitor waiting, she flung open her humble gateway and babbled, “Welcome to Celestia, her house, um, you are greeted, here.” Pinkie Pie snorted in greeting, unfurling a red-striped blowout with each nostril and letting out a ridiculous whine. “Hey ‘Tia! Welcome to Ponyville! You’re invited to the party!” “Oh, Pinkie Pie!” she responded in surprise, “What party?” “Your party, of course!” Pinkie Pie cheered. Suddenly she was behind the distinguished alicorn. Celestia’s mind stumbled, “She’s clearly an earth pony, how could she have teleported—“ and she was being pushed out the door. “Come on, we better get you to Sugarcube Corner, everypony is waiting, but I was going to surprise you, surprise!” bubbled the party pony. “There’s cake and pie and music, and you look like you need fun.” “Yes, I would love some cake,” Celestia conceded. She stood and anchored herself firmly to the ground to protest, “I’m not sure about the ponies. I was just enjoying a quiet evening, and they might have more fun without me.” “Don’t be a Princess Stuffypants. That’s why I threw you a party, so you could win them over,” Pinkie Pie explained. “Show them you can have fun just like any pony.” “Oh, I guess that makes sense. Thank you for helping me,” Celestia said, trotting forward, knowing her host would quickly take the lead. When they entered the party room of the rebuilt bakery, some of the assembled ponies gave a very staged cheer. Pinkie Pie set off confetti dispensers and nudged her guest of honor as a silence descended. Celestia stepped forward and hailed, “Hello, ponies. I’m Celestia, but of course you know that. Thank you for welcoming me into your wonderful town. I look forward to getting to know you all.” Most of the guests froze, and Pinkie Pie leapt to put on some up-beat music to fill the silence. Celestia tossed her waving mane out of the way as she scanned for a familiar face to bail her out. Ah yes, there was Applejack. They might even have something to talk about. “Hello, Applejack, how’s Sweet Apple Acres doing?” she began. “Oh, not too bad, the fire missed most of our trees. It was easy enough to rebuild the farmhouse, but the trees take years to grow back, you know,” Applejack reported, trying not to show resentment. “How’s Twilight?” she asked of their shared concern. Celestia paused to put together her answer. “She’s been recovering very well, although she still can’t move her hind legs. The good news is she is breathing normally now, and learning to get around again. It’s a good thing she has her magic. And she has Spike to look out for her.” Applejack chuckled at that last bit. The cowgirl, still saddened for her friend, put out, “It’s just a shame she got tore up like that.” She didn’t mention that Twilight was almost killed sacrificing herself for the former ruler, just like Rarity, but Celestia was thinking the same thing. “It must be the Elements of Harmony,” she proposed. “I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s quite a thing,” Applejack agreed, remembering the feeling of the united Elements. Celestia realized she was holding some promising information. “My sister offered that if Rarity did her design work here, Luna’s court would still keep her on call. And if Twilight can get a research grant, she might come back out here to study the magic of friendship.” “Really?!” AJ gave a hushed exclamation as her eyes lit up. “Our Doctor Sparkle’s reports would go to Luna of course, but with my sister’s permission I would like to read them as well,” Celestia continued hopefully. “I do have a lot to learn.” Since they were on the thread of reuniting those six ponies, she noted one that was missing. “Where’s Fluttershy?” “Bless her butterflies, but that one’s a hard case,” Applejack almost huffed. “She’s still extra shy, an’ won’t come into town much. We fixed up her cottage—it had just been abandoned for years—but I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s sleepin’ in the forest right now.” “Maybe I should talk to her,” Celestia offered. “I’m not sure that would work out,” the earth pony objected. “She’s all skittish, ya know, and you’re not the least threatening face, no offence.” “She might be stronger than you think. She actually gave me quite a scare when she caught me—“ Celestia trailed off. Applejack arched her eyebrow and demanded, “Caught you doin’ what?” “Maybe you should ask Fluttershy,” the alicorn suggested, rather than stumble over sensitive topics for all involved. “Mm hm,” Applejack said suspiciously. “I think I will.” Celestia sensed it was time to move on. She approached Mister and Misses Cake, where they were talking with—yipes—that old produce vendor she couldn’t seem to shake. “Thank you for opening up your place for tonight,” she addressed the proprietors. “It’s an honor to have you again,” Replied Mrs. Cake. “Take a cupcake.” It was red velvet with cheesecake icing. “Mmmm, that is so good,” she said after the first bite. The taste of the treat brought back memories. “Oh right, I have come here before.” “Well, it wasn’t exactly here, Sugarcube Corner was over there,” Mr. Cake pointed out. The misses jabbed him with her elbow. “Of course, I’m really sorry that happened,” Celestia condoled. “I’m glad everyone made it out safely.” “It happened?” the fruit vendor objected. He would have held his peace, but then he perceived her trying to dodge the truth, or so he thought. “Wasn’t it you that done it?” She had been reminded of Ponyville’s destruction enough times, and she was getting tired of taking the fall for it. “I didn’t burn the town, I stole your fruit and punched your daughter.” “What? Is that some kind of joke?!” he growled fiercely. Immediately she wished to disappear so hard that it was all she could do to keep from actually teleporting away. “And I’m sorry about that too. I did save her life. By throwing her out of a wagon,” she said, continuing to dig the hole deeper. The colt was just about to throttle her when Pinkie Pie intervened, “Yeah, and she was eensy-weensy, and smelled bad!” Pulling Celestia aside, she complained, “You’re not very good at parties. Throttling is a SERIOUS party foul, you know.” “It’s easier when everypony doesn’t blame you for ruining the world,” the persecuted alicorn pointed out. “Totally!” her hostess agreed. She motioned to the serious and reserved crowd and added, “These are some tough customers. We need to break the ice into a million pieces! First you’ll need to loosen up a little. Take this.” She held out a big bottle of tequila. Celestia paused at the sight of the alcohol. She used to be a considerable drinker, but since her return she had not felt the need for spirits. There was no yawning emptiness to fill, and the love and acceptance she had found was enough to drown her sorrows. Still, the situation was desperate, and what would it hurt to have a little fun? She took the bottle and took a sip. It was a good sip. Applejack caught wind of something going down and trotted to the scene. “Wait a minute, y’all. I don’t see how that will help.” “Just watch us,” Pinkie Pie boasted energetically. “Unless you want to join us.” Celestia threw back the bottle, and started to get more comfortable on the spot. Pinkie Pie downed her own magic elixir, chugging a flask of maple syrup. Applejack could hardly keep up with the bad ideas. “Wait, you’re only supposed to drink a couple shots of that at a time or—put it on pancakes.” The party master pulled out a new record and challenged, “We can do it on the dance floor! I hope you have some moves.” “I, I think I do,” Celestia said, downing the tequila and considering that she may never have gotten an honest appraisal, being Empress and all. Pinks tossed the record into the player and turned it as loud as it would go. “This is a real crowd pleaser! We can’t go wrong.” “Luna have mercy, not that song, Pinkie Pie!” Applejack pleaded urgently. A punk colt band began to howl lyrics about how hot their mamacita was. “Let’s go!” Pinkie Pie shouted and waved for Celestia to follow. The two headed for an open spot of smooth floor as Applejack stared in horror. “This town has principles, y’all don’t dance like that!” she warned. “These aren’t soldiers, Pinkie Pie!” ___---\ ==) ____ --.*--- A very confused white alicorn leaned against the wall of Sugarcube Corner and processed the dawning regret of the last couple hours. Her mane and tail lay limp and tangled around her. A pink blur came into focus as it reached out a hoof to shake her. “Tia, are you back?” Pinkie Pie asked, with a mixture of concern and amusement. From where she lived at the bottom of the bottle of tequila, Celecita had visited Ponyville. She and the Pinkie had crashed their own party so hard that all the other guests excused themselves. As she pushed a crumpled sombrero away from herself, Celestia made a mental note that “me gusta” was no longer an acceptable part of her vocabulary. She blinked and willed her eyes to look the same direction. She rubbed her head and groaned, “Where is everypony?” Pinkie Pie shrugged and joked, “I guess they all had someplace to be.” “Really?” Celestia wondered aloud. She couldn’t quite get the events in order but that wasn’t how she remembered it. “No, you totally scared them all off. Okay, maybe I helped a little,” Pinkie Pie admitted. “I don’t get your style, but you take the cake for putting it out there!” she laughed. “Oh no, I was supposed to win them over,” Celestia lamented. “Now I need to apologize for what happened.” “Totally!” Pinkie Pie agreed. “Lucky for you I know a thing or two about that. First, we should tell Applejack we’re sorry ‘cause she’s our friend. Next, go to that couple you were REALLY weird with. Then we can get the mayor to round up the rest so you can feel like crap in front of everyone,” she finished, with a face of mock humiliation and terror. “And you can get it over with,” she smiled. Celestia looked down at the floor. This wasn’t how she wanted to start relaxing in the country, but she had certainly been in much worse positions before. Fitting in here was going to be harder than she thought though. She took a closer look at Pinkie. Her mane was drooped with disappointment, but it wasn’t all the way uncurled. “Oh, Pinkie, I’m sorry about your party.” Pinkamena tried to hold onto her smile, but sighed as she surveyed the lonely wasteland of tipped tables and scattered party favors. Her enthusiasm was spent, but it was replaced by a defiant, wry expression Celestia had not seen before. “If the ship’s going down, it’s better to go down with all guns blazing,” she reasoned. “No one can say it was boring.” “I should help you clean up,” Celestia offered. “I did most of the damage.” “No,” the experienced host countered quickly. “It’s better if you don’t stay over any later.” Celestia didn’t expect her party friend to think like that, but unfortunately she was right. At Pinkie Pie’s insistence, she escorted the tipsy alicorn back home. By all rights, Miss Pie had consumed enough maple syrup to DIE, but she just bounced through the energy and kept going. Celestia’s metabolism had dealt with the alcohol by the time they reached the house. For better or worse, they were unfairly unaffected. She leaned down to eye level, and despite their indiscretions, said, “Thanks for the party.” With a sheepish smile, she added, “At least now they know I can have fun too.” “Yeah, you won’t have to worry about them fussing over you like a Princess ever again,” Pinkie congratulated her. “Now they think you’re a floozy freak. Floozy freak, that’s fun to say!” Celestia grimaced, and begged, “Please don’t.” “Alright,” Pinkie Pie conceded. The wry smile was back. “Hey, you might be a lotta things, but you’re not afraid to have a good time. Maybe next time I just won’t invite all the party poopers.” Celestia’s eyes widened with a mixture of anticipation and alarm, and she mumbled, “Mm-hm.”
StrangerChapter 2 Hooffalls split the young silence of the chamber. Both metal-clad and unshod hoofs clattered and thudded over marble and luxuriant carpet. Guards and servants alike rushed into the inner palace as soon as the sun fell backwards into the morning horizon. Celestia had never let that happen. Guards brandished weapons and swept through the halls. Finding only unlit rooms of luxury items, they rushed back as if they had been tricked by a phantom assassin. Servants ran everywhere in a panic, checking every closet and cupboard. Shoving desperate snouts in the face of logic, they turned over every cushion, opened every drawer, and peered into the fireplace. General Armor strode into the middle of the confusion and stood contemplatively. The tall white unicorn was encased in the brightest burnished gold, in a suit of armor which covered much more of his body than that which he wore as Shining Armor, Captain of the Guard. Under his shell, lively blue eyes appraised the scene, and instinctively took charge of the response. “Get an ESP in here,” he demanded to no one in particular. Gun barrels and accusing eyes possessed every window, but all that was seen outside was the angrily buzzing swarm of pegasi guards. A soldier took a step into the pleasure room where a bruised and exhausted colt still groaned on the floor. Before he could process the sight, three of the agents that supplied special services to the Princess pulled him back. Two of them went in, and the last shut the door behind them, making it clear to the other guard that this room need not be mentioned. One guard moved to look down off the balcony. Splash, squish. “Oh my goddess, what is this—“ he yelled, pulling his hoof up out of a glistening, tumorous mass. “I –“ (cough, cough) “found something!” The General, seizing upon the first important piece of information past the inane “Clear, clear! Where is she?” approached the balcony. The embarrassed warrior who had discovered whatever it was began to heave and wretch, overcome by ghastly vapors from the oozing mass. “Not in the shit,” General Armor ordered, “It’s evidence.” The guard leaned on the railing and vomited profusely down onto those investigating the scene from below. Barf came as a relief to his senses, as it was much more pleasant than the other substance. The General breathed deeply of the fumes; they stung his senses too, but not like they did to the others. It was familiar, and carried a heavy weight of conflicting emotion. Techs arrived, waving ESP detectors that clicked and pulsed green light. A pony in a white coat and goggles approached the General. His detector lit up red and screeched at some disturbance. Aimed at the viscous, caustic slime, it read “999” and “0.” “What is it?” Armor turned and demanded. “I don’t know, sir. There’s no evidence of a teleport on this floor, but right here I’m showing data like I’ve never seen. We’ll have to submit this… to full sci/magic screening.” He stooped to gather some of the mysterious substance into a vial before backing away gasping. “Look,” he gestured at something as he recovered his breath. The points of Celestia’s golden crown protruded from the semisolid slime. Disturbed, and with a cool wrath pooling in his chest, the General left the east side to gaze out a western window. There the crescent moon hung uncertainly. It had retreated from the rays of dawn, but stopped when the light had unexpectedly relented of its pursuit. Lit now from below, the crescent of the moon shone dimly and reflected on the broad solar insignia wrought onto his chest. He lowered his horn, onto which was forged a long blade. “You can smile now,” he addressed moon. “I don’t know what happened, but I know you’re behind it,” he growled. Two floors below, in a brightly lit hall adjoining the throne room, one of the guards who had remained there was drawn to a disturbance from the wall. The pegasus approached a massive relief carving of the Griffin War and put his ear close the memorial. The stone muffled a series of thuds and angry yells. The guard silently drew out a ceremonial sword and waved to alert another warrior to the intrusion. The second guard took up a position behind a corner where he could cover his partner with his pistol. One of the four panels of the relief swung out from the wall to reveal a hidden stairway. Two earth ponies in suits half-dragged a struggling creature into the open. The pegasus guard lunged forward, but restrained his blade at the last moment. One of the agents released his grip on the captive and reached into his vest to flash a badge. The guards in the hall immediately shifted their focus to the wiry figure, which sprang back up from the floor with renewed energy. It turned as if it would flee, but the four royal officers hemmed it in. It was a pegasus, though a strange one; it planted its hooves firmly, as if preparing to fight. The unusual shape of its face made it seem androgynous, but it was a female. She was short, thin, and dripping wet. Ribs showed past her matted coat, which was dull gray streaked with white. Her wings stretched out feebly, unable to fill the space behind her; they did not look like they would lift her. Her eyes were completely filled with black. White only showed in their very corners as they shifted from threat to threat. Clearly no one was intimidated. She quickly shifted to a docile attitude, bowing away from them as she accepted her position. “I caught it coming down the secret passage from the Princess’s chambers,” the agent informed the others. “A little short for a Lunar assassin,” a guard remarked. The other agent conferred to his partner, “She could be one of Celestia’s pets. One of the cages was open.” The guard with the sword declared, “It’s a nightsider if I’ve ever seen one. Just look at it.” He held the point of his weapon to her throat. He considered claiming the honor of dispatching one of her majesty’s enemies. The agent who had apprehended her stayed him, explaining, “It could know something.” She was led away from the audience chamber. They steered her around several corners to an unmarked door. It opened to a dark, rough passageway that fit ill with the decorum around it. She hesitated at the unfriendly entrance, but a rough shove from the guard motivated her inside. They walked down another narrow staircase. As her eyes recovered from the previous light, she began to see farther, but all that came to view was more stairs. As they continued their shadowy descent, the passage was still unfamiliar but she knew where it would lead. Shaking off paniced thoughts, she realized somewhat disconnectedly that the darkness was more comfortable anyway. A flickering lamp half-heartedly illuminated an iron door next to a barred window. After providing authentication to a face behind the window, the guard instructed, “Put her in the south wing. Don’t let her mix with the other prisoners.” “This one? To the stale house?” the gatekeeper wondered. Despite his surprise, his quill moved mechanically across the forms on his desk. “Something weird is going down,” the guard alerted. “Tell the warden to expect more soon.” The door opened and the pegasus stepped reluctantly inside. Somepony came in behind her and cuffed her wings together tightly. She stared numbly ahead as a pair of sheers clicked open behind her. It was protocol for inmates to have their mane and tail shaved upon internment. A hoof brushed lazily across her short, scraggly mane, and a voice muttered, “What’s the point?” Continuing past the offices and through more bolted gates, she reached a four-story cell block, with several aisles through the stacked cells. She took a dejected step down the yawning central aisle, but a sharp check to her side suggested she divert to the left. A vault was opened, from which came a more pungent odor than the main cell block, and finally they came to an empty cell inside. “You’re S 92,” her escort stated as he opened the bars and flung her inside before she could enter voluntarily. She picked herself up off the floor as the lock clicked and her captor was already turning to leave. The cell was made of stone and completely empty. The only features besides the bars in the front were a small hole near the back and a vent at each side of the floor that connected the cells. She held her eyes shut for a minute and then peered through the shadows. When she could make out eyes in the cell across from her she became uncomfortable and shifted her attention to her own accommodations. Closer inspection yielded little that was useful; the floor, walls, and ceiling were indeed bare. The walls were not completely empty, however. Previous occupants had somehow scratched messages and pictures into the hard stone. One side was filled with many unintelligible imprecations against “Onyx”. The other inscriptions were even more encouraging. At the back, “DIE FASTER” was etched angrily in large letters. Tick marks started on one wall, crossed the back, and started on the other before falling into a despondent spiral. She sat on the cold floor and began to do nothing. “Since I’ve got so much to do and so little time,” she mused sarcastically, “I better not get ahead of myself.” She was determined to remain still and quiet for as long as she could stand. She was doing quite well. Yep. Nothing. A gust blew in from the vent and chilled her aft sections uncomfortably. “I can’t be moved that easy,” she decided. Another low blow came. For some time she sat stubbornly as the wind rolled in almost regularly from the end of the south wing. Growing tired of pointless endurance, she retreated to the back of the cell, where she hoped for shelter. Unfortunately, pressing close to the wall showed that the stone was colder than the wind. She tried to balance the two. “Now how long can I sit here? Can this be part of my routine? Yay,” she thought. The little inmate furrowed her brow, frustrated with herself for accepting such lameness. “I wonder how long we’ll get food when things go south,” she pondered importantly. With some satisfaction she guessed she would last longer than a lot outside the jail, as if she had orchestrated this on purpose. “Is that wrong? What is wrong?” She blinked uncertainly. Blinking made her eyes sting. “That’s stupid, since when?” she protested. Just then something caught her eye. There was some new light coming in. It was very weak, but was it growing? Although it was indirect light, she knew instinctively that it wasn’t just any light—it was sunlight. It was coming in the vent with the wind. She lay on the floor to peer through the opening. She was in luck, view-wise. She was only a few cells away from what must be the south end. There was just enough of that precious glow outside to outline the horizon. Another gust rudely rushed into her face. She could put up with it for the payoff. From what she could put together, she was in a part of a jail on the edge of the cliffs where the south wind blew strong. She let herself relax, gazing through the bars into her private scene of the unnatural dusk. For a moment her eyes closed and mind stopped, as she edited out a puff of interrupting air. She didn’t think the light should be there, but instead of questioning it she simply took it in. Darkness was comfortable but empty; now she finally had something to look at. It suited her well. It was soothing and peaceful. As long as she watched, she felt less soulless. “I like dusk,” she whispered, and drifted to sleep. Author's Note http://celestial-swordsman.deviantart.com/gallery/#/art/Dusk-s-Detention-385022328?_sid=2cc3bfe6 Here's a chapter pic.
PrisonChapter 3 Something interrupted her nap. Was it the killer cramp she was getting from those wing restraints? Something seemed to be blocking the vent. She stared until she could make out what it was. Right on the other side of the bars an eye stared at her. She almost jumped back but restrained herself to only pull back slightly. She didn’t want to offend any potential comrades, but one couldn’t be too careful in the “stale house”. A stringy colt voice lamented, “I lost the last one. She was here a long time. They finally gave me a replacement.” “I’m sorry,” a very confused pegasus replied. The eye blinked and said, “So you’ll make it up to me, right?” She could only reply, “Um,” and start to catch that she might not like where this was going. “I smelled you were a bitch,” he said abruptly. “Are you a good little bitch?” “Would I be here if I was?” she deflected. “Mmm, dirty,” he uttered through licked lips. “Shit, he wasn’t supposed to like that,” she thought quickly. “I should really be leaving now.” “Be bad for Onyx,” he urged. Before she could move away, black hooves shot through the grate and grabbed her head. He yanked her face to the bars and kissed her, trying to work his tongue into her mouth. She pulled away but couldn’t get out of his grasp. She turned her face away but he forced it back. The desperate pegasus drove her own hoof through the bars to punch his face away. She flung her head back into the musty air of her own cell and took a nervous gasp. Onyx had her hoof before she could extricate it, and dragged her awkwardly into the dividing wall. She crawled forward to pry her leg away. He let her succeed, only to latch ahold of her hind leg. He grasped her waist and she felt the wet of his mouth under her hip, trying to find its way between her legs. She braced her free legs against the wall and pushed as hard as she could. Finally she broke free and sprang across the cell where she leaned panting against the opposite wall. Onyx spat on the floor and complained sharply about the taste of “mummy shit”. As she recovered her breath she stole a glance back at the site of the attack. Faint streaks remained where she had scrambled against the wall around that awful hole. She looked down at her trembling hoof and scraped it against the floor. It left the same mark. She suddenly appreciated the literature scrawled on her wall. She wanted to add further insults. Words would not come, and she only drew out her first tick mark. She sobbed softly. Tears carried away the sting that still hounded her eyes. Sick laughter from her unwelcome neighbor assaulted her ears. She knew the eye was back but she could not look. “Hey, mummy shit,” he cooed. “I can’t help but notice your flanks. They’re flat, and they’re blank,” he taunted. “Blank flank bitch,” he jeered in an almost singsong voice. Picking her eyes off the floor as little as possible, she turned and studied her assets. No cutie mark. “I know you know your talent. Accept it. Bitches are only good for fucking,” he mocked, “Come here and play like a cutie mark crusader.” Finding herself with no reply, she whined and moved to the back of the cell. She maneuvered to a position where he couldn’t see her, which unfortunately was only a small space at the corner of the wall between their cells. She lay down. She could find no reassurance in her thoughts and decided she didn’t want to talk to herself. Weariness slowly overcame fear and she fell to sleep once more. She saw Onyx reaching through the vent and stretching out his foreleg toward her. He was a couple feet short of reaching her, but it was still unsettling. She could not be certain if it was a dream or a brief waking moment. A guard roughly shook her awake. She was led out of her cell down several poorly lit halls to a small square concrete room. Her escort sat her down in one of two chairs by a table. A dark pony smoked a cigarette in the opposite chair and placed a hoof on an odd device on the table. With a click, a bright light pierced her deep eyes. She winced and squinted. “You are going to tell me everything you know,” the gravelly voice on the other side of the curtain of light declared. “This little thing is a magic lie detector,” he said as he turned a dial on the box before him. “We’re going to start off real simple. You’re going to give me straight answers to a few straight questions before we get to the good stuff.” She quickly weighed her options—was the truth worse than the risk of being caught? It was time to gamble, and she would have to do this right the whole way through. “What is your name?” Here we go, she thought, and replied, “Dusk.” “What is your cutie mark?” “Um, silver dollar.” Good thing she was gray. “What is your occupation?” She paused and tilted her head. “Occupation?” “Yes, occupation.” He said in condescending tone, “Your job. How do you earn money?” She thought back to her previous answer. “Oh yes. I remember… bits. I moved a lot of bits. I must have been a cashier. That was so long ago…” she trailed off cryptically. “What are you now? What do you do?” “Being good for her,” she answered reverently. “I’m whatever shewants me to be.” He raised his eyebrows but continued. “Are you a pegasus?” “Yes.” “What color is your mane?” “No color.” This was thin ice. He didn’t react though. “What is your gender?” Now I’m screwed. “Male…” “Now I’m going to ask you some questions, and you are NOT going to tell me the truth. You better lie, or I’ll catch you,” he threatened, moving to the next phase. Dammit! What kind of a horrible idiot is this colt!? I’m that ugly?! She grimaced as she lost any residual self-esteem. Forget the whole charade, I’d have been happier if he caught me. “Were you a cashier?” “No.” “Are you a pegasus?” “No.” “What color is your mane?” “Rainbow.” “What is your gender?” “Female.” She almost lost it. Pulling that insult twice was totally uncalled for. “Good.” He puffed his cigarette and turned the dials on the detector to compensate. He leaned forward to stare “Dusk” in her squinting eyes. “Now for the good stuff. You’re going to tell me the truth, and I know how you think now.” “Do you hate Celestia?” “No, of course not.” Yikes, what a mind trip. “She’s the best Princess.” “Did Nightmare Moon send you here?” “Nightmare Moon is a bad girl.” “Are you a Lunar assassin?” “I’m a good girl. Please don’t say ‘Lunar’ anymore. I don’t know what it means, but she doesn’t like it when we say that word.” “Where were you yesterday at sunrise?” “I was waiting in my good girl box,” she replied with a vacuous, pleasant expression. “That’s not where we found you,” he accused. “I was. But then everything started shaking, and my door broke open. I was afraid, so I ran away.” “Did you notice anything else unusual besides the shaking?” “No.” She was almost through. “Do you know what happened to Celestia?” “No.” Crapcrapcrapcrap! That’s totally true. The detector buzzed. “Aha, the truth comes out. That is most certainly a lie. So tell me what happened to Celestia.” “I don’t know,” she repeated. “I am not amused,” he bit through his cigarette. “I am investigating acts of sedition and terrorism. If you hide anything from me, you will never see the sun again.” He might need to reconsider his threats, Dusk lamented privately. “What happened to Celestia!?” he barked, and pounded his hoof on the table. Between that persistent stinging, the glaring light, and genuine fear, tears began to pour down from the little pegasus face. “I don’t know!” “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this…” he said insincerely. He got up and retrieved something from the back wall. He came back to show off a taser and some pliers in the beam of light. “No, no!” She begged, “It’s really true, I don’t know what happened.” The machine buzzed condemningly. “I’ve been lying the whole time!” she confessed. It buzzed and buzzed. He pushed her backwards out of her chair and held her against the floor. “Stop lying to me!” he yelled, and moved the pliers towards her face. “My cutie mark!” she screamed. “What?” he blurted, taken aback by the sheer irrelevance. “I don’t have a cutie mark!” The whole thing with the blank flanks was crap, but she was excited about it for now. The machine still buzzed. He backed off and studied her ass intently. “The silver dollar?” There was obviously nothing there. She burst out, “I don’t have a cutie mark, I’m really scared, my head hurts, my eyes hurt, I’m hungry, thirsty, and telling the truth.” The machine buzzed at each statement. He frowned and dropped the pliers. “Do you know what happened to Celestia?” He was catching on. “I have no idea,” she said firmly. The ironic buzz came again. “I do hate Celestia, but I didn’t do anything to her. I don’t know who did, and I don’t know what they did.” Lack of knowledge was really starting to be an asset. She crossed her front hooves, and protested, “And I’M A MARE.” The detector almost came unhooked at that. The interrogator blushed slightly but tried to continue unaffected, “Is your mane white?” She peeked up at some stray hairs. “Yeah. I guess it is.” “Are you a pegasus?” “No. Yes. No.” Three buzzes. There was no end to the embarrassing moments here. “You are a crap witness,” the interrogator confidently proclaimed. He slammed her against the floor again as he laid her aside with disgust. “This isn’t an asylum! Someone is wasting my time.” He wiped his hooves together to rid them of little white flecks, but they only smeared. She pushed her chest up on one hoof and rubbed her head with the other. Against her better judgment, she expressed sincerely, “I was serious about being thirsty. I would die for a glass of water right now.” She was promptly kicked out of the prison onto a dark alley in Canterlot. They hadn’t let her have any water, but she wouldn’t have to go thirsty because of the rain. This was going to be miserable.
DriftChapter 4 On the outside Dusk was free, but she still felt trapped. She had left her purpose behind her, that is, if she had truly ever known her purpose. What was done was done, and she couldn’t go back. She stood in the rain unmotivated and directionless. She let it soak through her fur and hoped it might wash her clean. Her dry skin drank in the water along with its chill. A shiver reminded her of the physical limitations on her emotional languor. She would have to take care of herself. She took shelter under an overhang on a building she did not care to identify. Water rushed through the gutter. It couldn’t be clean, but she was parched. She lapped it up greedily. It wasn’t so bad except for the aftertaste. She looked back at the entrance to the prison. “There goes my room and board,” she groaned half-sarcastically. She reviewed it in her mind: hard stone, wind, interrogations, tight rations, Onyx… “I can do better,” she concluded, “or at least I can’t do worse.” She looked around to take in the urban scene and gain some direction. Her mental map for this part of the city was blank. Dusk didn’t even know what she wanted. Feeling restless, she picked a street and began to walk down it. If she couldn’t have any direction, she could at least have a direction. What was she looking for? What did ponies in her position do? When they were sick and tired and fed up but didn’t have anything to do with their time, where did they go? As she rounded a corner, a neon sign announced “Prancing Pony ” and “Spirits”. That seemed to make sense to Dusk. She pulled the door open and ducked in out of the rain. There was little more light here than in the prison, but a lot more color. Bottles clinked and patrons murmured over their beverages. She shook some of the water out of her fur and took her place at the bar. The bartender, a lean old colt with a balding mane, approached and asked, “What’ll you have?” “Give me something hard,” she requested. He gave her a squint he reserved for a particular kind of customer. “I’ve got the good stuff,” he promised, but continued wisely, “but that ain’t cheap. Show me some cash.” “Huh?” she weakly replied. “No bits no beer,” he declared. “I don’t give nothing for pity.” He turned and resumed his other duties. “Crap,” Dusk thought, “Should have thought of that. How am I supposed to get bits?” A blue mare in a red dress entered and sat at the other end of the bar. She leaned on the bar with her hoof on her neck. The bartender didn’t approach her; she had a purse but it remained dormant. Soon a handsome colt approached the bar and asked for a shot. He turned to the pretty pony, smiled, and offered, “Should I make it two?” She tossed a purple curl of her mane and shot back, “If you want a chance.” Dusk watched her with interest as she received drink after drink. Dusk leaned against the bar and put her hoof on her neck in imitation of the beauty, who was her role model for now. A tall colt in a leather jacket got up from a table and slammed some bits down on the counter nearby. “Barkeep, I need another round,” he ordered. Dusk put on her best airs and enticed, “Make it two—if you want a chance.” He reeled back from the still-dripping, gaunt pegasus figure beside him. As he accepted his drink from the bartender, he motioned to Dusk and remarked, “Watch out, you’ve got a real spitfire here.” The old bartender glowered at her wrathfully and called to some corner, “Big Happy, I got one for you.” “Big Happy” loomed out of the shadows and grabbed Dusk’s shoulder. The bouncer shoved her over to the door and flung her into the street. She splashed down into the gutter. She lay where she fell and soaked up the downpour. A healthy gray pegasus with a blond mane and tail dropped out of the sky and alighted by the bar. She took a few steps toward the door before she stopped herself and shook her head. The stranger stood heavy with internal struggle until she spotted Dusk. She considered the bar and then the little reject. Dusk looked up as the stranger approached her and asked, “Are you okay?” Dusk shook her head honestly. The stranger came up alongside Dusk and stretched out her wing to shield Dusk’s face from the rain. She introduced herself, “I’m Ditzy Doo.” Dusk couldn’t help but stare at Ditzy’s eyes, which were somehow looking different directions. Anyway, Dusk was in no position to judge whether any pony’s eyes were strange, and Ditzy’s disjointed gaze was soft. “Well, ponies who don’t like me call me Derpy Hooves sometimes,” Ditzy elaborated, “but most ponies call me Ditzy Doo. My special friends also call me Derpy Hooves, but it’s a good thing.” “I’m Dusk,” said pony reciprocated. “What’s wrong? Why don’t you get out of the rain?” Ditzy questioned her. “I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t have anything,” she lamented. “Oh you poor pony,” Ditzy sympathized. “Do you have any pony to help?” “No,” Dusk moaned, “Nopony knows me.” “You don’t look so good. You should really get inside before you catch a cold,” Ditzy Doo advised, and added kindly, “Why don’t you come to my place?” Dusk blinked, and mumbled, “Um, okay.” Ditzy Doo led her down several streets to the barred entrance of a menacing concrete building. The huge gate muffled internal thuds and clanging metal. “This—is your house?” Dusk stammered. Ditzy Doo chuckled, “No, silly, up there.” The clouds above still cast down water, but also hid regular shapes with darker shadows. “I’m not sure I can get up there,” Dusk admitted. Derpy frowned at her guest’s deficient wings, and then smiled. “It’s not far, we can do it together!” They took flight—except that Dusk barely got hooves off the ground. She started to sink back down, but Ditzy grabbed her and hoisted her into the air. They rose up the side of the building and towards the sky. While Ditzy provided most of the thrust, her aim was less impressive than her wings. She accidentally crashed her partner into the edge of the roof. Dusk yelped and fell half on top of the building, clinging to it desperately. Ditzy offered an apologetic squee and picked her back up. With one last exertion they broke the low cloud layer and Dusk found herself suddenly inside some sort of room. Ditzy Doo turned on the light, revealing a very small cloud home with few furnishings, but altogether better than a dungeon. She shook herself dry and greeted, “Welcome to my apartment!” Dusk hardly looked at the place, more occupied with panting and shivering. “Of course, silly me,” Derpy apologized, “we better get you cleaned up.” She casually scooped a dollop of cloud out of her own wall and pushed it down on the middle of Dusk’s forehead. Dusk squinted and shrugged away. “Hold still and let me get you warm and dry,” Ditzy soothed. Feeling that the top of her head was now surprisingly dry, Dusk acceded. Ditzy sponged the puff along her guest’s back. It pushed through the hairs straight to the skin, taking in any water it touched, almost like magic. She squeezed it out and the water fell harmlessly through the floor. Ditzy Doo continued with smooth, practiced movements, and soon had dried the entire pony. Dusk was left to think, “She’s almost too good at this.” “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Ditzy said. Dusk looked for somewhere to sit. Apparently a table was one of those things that weren’t necessary. Her hostess retrieved a couple of apples and sat down next to her. They crunched into the fruit, and Dusk relished the experience like it was the best thing she had ever eaten. “How long have you been here?” Ditzy asked. “Not very long.” That was…true? “Me too. I guess that’s why you don’t have anything. I got a job pretty quick, so I get to have this place.” She grinned at her adequate dwelling like it was a palace. “Where is your family?” Dusk had to consider the question; it had been so long since she thought about that. “Far away,” she replied. “Mine too,” Ditzy sympathized. “What did you do before you came here?” Dusk gulped a bite of apple and exclaimed, “N—nothing! Err, I mean, I was, uh, a cashier.” Finding herself unable to provoke a conversation, Ditzy announced, “Time to go to sleep.” She slipped out the door and returned with a cumulous lump from the edge of her cloud. “I got your bed,” she explained. “Do you sleep with a window? I could open one up for you.” Dusk closed her eyes and pictured a hole in the cloud with iron bars across it. A black hoof slowly snuck through the bars and… “No! It’s fine!” she blurted. Ditzy brought the cloud to a hover in a corner, fluffed it, and stepped back. Dusk tried to shake the vision from her mind and hopped obligingly onto her new cloud. She tested its softness; it was insane. It was quite cozy to lie on and even teased a smile out of her for a moment. “Thanks, it’s REALLY fluffy.” Derpy paused to take in the glory of being a good fluffer before landing on her own bed. Dusk tried to settle down but troubling memories wouldn’t allow it. The last few times she had slept, something bad was happening to her when she woke up. Ditzy was about to extinguish the lamp when she noticed the expression on her new little friend’s face. She remarked, “You seem kinda scared, like a little filly who thinks Nightmare Moon is coming.” Dusk’s mouth went dry. “How could I forget?” she anxiously thought. She realized with horror that the cloud home could actually be penetrated from any angle. “I’m a sitting duck up here!” her mind raced. She suddenly felt completely exposed and looked around for signs of impending threats. Ditzy frowned and complained, “Aren’t you a little old for that?” She rolled back onto the floor, not to be satisfied until the problem was solved. She picked up Dusk and her cloud, looked underneath, and reported, “No monsters under here.” Dusk blinked in disbelief at the disarming ridiculousness that was occurring. “I’ll tuck you in and you’ll feel better,” Ditzy assured. She wrapped the edges of the puff around Dusk until the restless one was snugly enclosed, with just her face uncovered. Ditzy stopped in front of Dusk and bobbed her head abortively, shying away from some intended action. She was discombobulated; a step in the process had been omitted. Ditzy sighed and said, “Now go to sleep, silly,” before returning to pursue her own slumber. It was completely illogical, but feeling secure in her puffy fortress, Dusk calmed and drifted off.
DerpyChapter 5 It was hours till dawn when Dusk awoke. Overheated from her little protective cocoon, she pulled herself up and swiped at it until it had all dissipated or stuck to something else. She was annoyed with herself for letting Ditzy treat her like a foal. “Well, I guess I did want it at the time,” she sighed, and realized that’s what was really bugging her. She walked quietly—which it seemed to be impossible not to do, this cloud-for-floor stuff was a pretty good idea after all. She walked to the door and sat down. Why anypony would want a doorway, when you could walk through the walls was beyond her. Her full eyes scanned the sky-vista. To correct on the time, the sun was lurking somewhere under the horizon, just like yesterday, so it was still indefinably dusk-dawn. It was hours before it should have been dawn, if there was going to be a dawn. You know, astronomy, meteorology, politics and stuff. With the vista lit by a dim, unseasonable orange glow, she could see the other cloud homes floating in an uninspired grid. They were arranged in a few layers, with the Doo house inhabiting the bottom level. The factories below churned out columns of smoke that drifted indolently through the pegasi housing. Faint sounds of machinery rose off of the industrial floor and whispered a white noise to this side of Canterlot. Wartime production meant that the factories operated around the clock. The war had ended in stalemate, and the treaty looked good on TV, but the factories never stopped. Perhaps the smog was responsible for the persistent irritation in her eyes. Living in this industrial haze couldn’t be good for a pony’s health, but zoning laws meant that both the factories and the new pegasi refugees were consigned to the far side of the mountain from the main city. Celestia liked to see the open blue sky from her palace, so she insisted that smokestacks and floating houses be hidden from view. Some particulate from the furnaces below was somehow absorbed into the clouds, turning every dwelling gray like the smog. The houses, the air, the concrete buildings, and Dusk, were all gray. She turned from the drab scene to find color inside the home. There was a picture here and there on the wall, some fake flowers in a vase (with water in it, strange), but the other furnishings were white, unfortunately. Her eyes were naturally drawn to a splash of real color in the middle of the one-room apartment. Ditzy’s yellow mane flowed out onto the puff of cloud that served as her bed. The puff was dyed a playful blue, and as she lounged comfortably, she seemed to Dusk like icing on a cupcake. The strange guest noticed her mouth water and her pulse rise. She didn’t customarily go long between having some sort of fix. She blinked a few times and decided to find another one. Using her discovery that cloud travel was almost noiseless, she stole across the room to a cabinet. Gingerly opening it, she spied—no drugs or booze. If she wanted a sugar high, or to binge on soap, she could have made it happen. There was not even a skanky magazine, only the sweet little home of a simple and innocent pegasus. She looked back to her hostess, whose placidly snoozing form was still the most interesting thing in the apartment. Ditzy was… curvy. Dusk tracked each curve one at a time. Miss Doo surely wouldn’t reciprocate any of these feelings, Dusk reflected. “I must be pretty ugly,” she thought. “A pretty pony would probably just kick me out. This has been my time for being kicked out. She’s probably stronger than me; I couldn’t even fly here. Maybe she’s in a suggestible dream state, and I could whisper in her ear...” She stopped herself. With some surprise, she realized that she didn’t want to take advantage of this pony, much less overpower her. She remembered how afraid she had been when Onyx looked at her like this. She certainly didn’t want Ditzy Doo to feel that. She searched her mind to count all of the kind, innocent ponies she knew. The cross-eyed flyer was the only one, the one who had descended like an angel and picked her up from the gutter of despair. Was this how she thanked Derpy Hooves for taking her in without any cost or expectation? She feared that Derpy would never let her call her by that name if she found out what kind of a pony she had taken in. What happened to “I’M A MARE”, anyway? Had she actually gotten her hopes up for the colt at the bar? It could have been an interesting night with all that handsomeness, leather, and probably Vinyl Scratch playing in the background. She really wasn’t used to being the weak one though. It still intimidated her; she couldn’t bear the risk of feeling as helpless as she did with Onyx and… someone else. Thinking about what she’d done didn’t make her feel any better about it either. A smiling picture of a unicorn colt with blue hair hung on the opposite wall. “Good for her,” she thought. Perhaps she wasn’t as turned on as she was jealous. “Who gets mistaken for a colt in an interrogation? And who wouldn’t be jealous of those hindquarters?” “Why are you looking at my butt?” Ditzy asked, blinking but otherwise motionless. “I was, um, curious what your cutie mark was about?” Dusk lied clumsily. “Oh!” Ditzy piped up pleasantly, “What does it look like?” Dusk hoped for a more meaningful answer, but only managed, “Bubbles?” “Exactly!” She sat up grinning. “I’m good with bubbles.” Dusk thought incredulously, “Good with bubbles?! Who even thought that was a real ability? What could be more useless?” Ditzy asked, “What are you good at?” Dusk’s heart sank. She looked away ashamed, and mumbled, “I don’t think I’m good at anything.” “Aww,” Ditzy’s eyes rolled around halfway and then back to their starting place. “I’m sure you’ll find something.” Ditzy stretched and fluttered up to the ceiling. She blew into a little glass fixture until it glowed and brightened the room. She sank to the floor and trotted lightly to the mirror, where she started brushing out her mane. “No pony likes me anyway. Everypony thinks I’m ugly, and they even think I’m a colt sometimes.” “You poor thing,” she sympathized, “but that’s what happens when you don’t take care of yourself, silly!” She put a hoof around Dusk and pulled her in front of the mirror. Her whole coat was matted and disheveled. “Here, we’ll fix you up!” Those Derpy eyes went everywhere as the wonderful, bubbly pony messed up from every possible angle. She could brush herself effortlessly but apparently it was different on someone else. Dusk didn’t want to say anything to upset her. “Oh dear,” she said when she looked back at the mirror, “Maybe you should do it.” She passed Dusk the brush. Dusk dangled it awkwardly and explained, “I don’t usually do it with my hooves.” “Well, what do you do it with, your tail?” the misfit barber chuckled, “You’re silly!” “Never mind,” Dusk huffed, and she began to use her hooves. “Your mane is cut kinda short, maybe you should grow it out longer.” Her short hairs were sickly, dingy white on her anorexic body. “Here, this should help,” Ditzy said, taking the brush. She ran some water over it and applied a solitary drop from a tiny bottle. True enough, the new treatment had the mane clean, white, and glistening. Not bad. Dusk managed to arrange it in a few cute curls and was really feeling much better about the whole thing. “You should eat more,” Ditzy added. “Speaking of which, are you hungry?” Perhaps over-excited from the unusual positive contact, Dusk accidently let herself say, “Do you like bananas?” Oh no, I did not just say that. I wouldn’t wish something like that on her. “Oh, sure, I have a big bag of bananas right here,” Ditzy Doo smiled brightly as she pulled it out of some hiding place. “Holy shit!” Dusk exclaimed in horror. “Don’t talk like that,” Ditzy admonished, “if you want one, just ask.” She put a hoof into the bag and grabbed one. Dusk snapped. “Don’t touch it!” She swatted the banana from Ditzy’s hoof. “Why would you do this to me?!” she yelled hoarsely. Ditzy gasped, and looked hurt. “I—I was being nice to you! You can’t say dirty words and yell at me in this apartment!” “You can’t give me bananas!” she sobbed, “You can’t tell me what to do!” Recovering from her panic left Dusk standing awkwardly with a very upset Ditzy Doo. She couldn’t believe she had just blown it, and she couldn’t stand to see her bubbly companion now bristling defensively. She ran out the door. Derpy Hooves shook her head, saying disappointedly, “I just don’t know what went wrong.” After eating a good breakfast, she strapped on her saddlebag and stepped out into the near-night time of another new work day. She sighed. Judging by the continued astronomical disturbance, people would be sending a lot of mail. It would be extra important, and guess who was on the job. Ditzy hopped into the air and rolled towards the post office. From behind one of the corners of the house, Dusk watched her leave. Running out here was not an ideal solution after all because of her sketchy flight capability. She was stuck on the cloud for now. Well, not exactly stuck. She figured that she could probably glide down to the ground without getting hurt; it was gaining altitude that was the problem. She looked at the industrial complex below her. It glowered and brooded in haze and threatened with sharp edges, furnaces, and razor wire. A great chimney pointed at her like a smoking gun. Fleeing from the guilt on the ground, she considered other dimensions of travel. The spacing of the grid in this sky development was just wide enough that Dusk couldn’t jump to neighboring apartments. If she left she couldn’t come back, but she didn’t see any more inviting place. She was angry. No pony told her what to do; yet she was trapped here by fate and fear. Did she go back into that harsh world? She had not actually experienced that much of it, but in her mind it was all prisons and factories and bars that kick her out. There was nowhere she could be happy. “It’s all because of that stupid pegasus,” her clouded mind told her. “Who actually has a BAG of BANANAS? She was just waiting for me.” Dusk picked up her sooty hoof and drove it into the wall of Ditzy’s house. This would teach that Derpy pony. She dragged her hoof across it, leaving a deep impression in the semisolid cloud. She moved her hoof about in quick, vicious strokes until she had delivered her message. It read “RETARDED FAGGOT” in large letters. She thought she would be more satisfied for being such a clever rebel. Still afraid to leave, she turned around and leaned against the defaced wall. Dusk gave herself a brief scowl. She was no expert, but she was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to hang around after you tagged a house. It was kind of stupid. “I am kind of stupid,” she thought. She was too mentally unstable to handle a little fruit or kindness. She was probably really mad because Ditzy wasn’t a horny colt who would distract her from being so miserable in this miserable world. She hated to look at the city that had become so bitter. What a stupid world. Not able to find free air in the sky, the city seemed to choke on itself and its dreams of conquest. Dreams that were nightmares, nightmares dreamed by one sleeper but lived by all. She peered through breaks in the cityscape to get a glimpse of the open country. With the sun in hibernation, the crops would yield little. Without its light, the world, but for a few, would die. Far away, a chain of lights dragged across the atmosphere. She had once been proud of them. The huge airships boasted thick armor and powerful weapons, held aloft by a combination of magic and science. Dusk could see them clearer when she closed her eyes. Several decks hung under the buoyant gas cells and housed control stations, crew quarters, and massive turrets. These were protected by a seamless metal hull that hid the contours of the blimp, giving an appearance closer to an ocean-bound vessel. All of this unnatural weight was supported by the helium above and the engines underneath. The engines were not true machines but industrialized magic. A small number of unicorn “engineers” kept the propellers spinning with animation spells, and firefly dust was burned to add thrust. Faint blue or pink vapors from these operations trailed out of the shafts that sheltered the engines from attack, except for threats directly below. “Highness Glory class: 150 meters. Four six-inch guns, fifteen machine guns, 36,000 pounds of bombs. 33 knots. Crew: 130.” Her heart had once swelled with pride and joy to see the mightiest force in Equestria sail forth, emblazoned with the gleaming emblem of the sun. After Celestia’s shocking disappearance, the Solar Empire had only one place to throw all of its borrowed hate and fear. No doubt politicians and generals had jumped to conclude that it was Luna’s doing, and pushed for an immediate attack to save the world from eternal darkness. The Solar armada flew slowly above advancing columns of troops, all heading to fulfill their purpose: the destruction of the New Lunar Republic. Only it wasn’t Luna’s fault and war wouldn’t fix anything. Ponies would just kill each other as the world starved, fighting for lines on a map no one would remember. As Dusk watched the columns creeping away, all she saw was an ironic funeral procession. She wished they would stop, but it was out of her hooves now. She looked back at the defaced wall. “Am I being an asshole?” RETARDED FAGGOT. As long as she was standing by the words, they seemed to point to her. “It’s pretty accurate,” Dusk admitted. The world didn’t like her, and it shouldn’t. Maybe she should jump off the cloud and not use her wings. The jagged slabs below would eagerly give death if she asked for it. Did the world really need a guilty, ugly, asshole pony? At least she would die 20% cooler with her new manejob. That actually made her feel better. For a while, Ditzy Doo had made her feel like she belonged. She had given food, shelter and compassion without getting anything in return. That was worth sticking around for, maybe until the end of the world in a few days. She wiped the wall clean and went back inside.
JourneyChapter 7 The next morning-time after breakfast, Dusk stood by the door and said, “Thank you, Derpy, for letting me stay. You showed me a lot, and it made me realize I have to go.” Derpy stopped her preparations for the work day to ask, “Already? Where do you want to go?” “I need to go west,” she answered, still looking out that way. “I need to do something.” “When do you need to go?” Derpy asked, paying attention but still brushing her mane. Dusk looked back to her host intensely and insisted, “Right now.” “Oh,” she let out, and put the brush down. She trotted over and gave Dusk a hug. The pegasus was truly warmed by the sentiment but was still too awkward to return it properly. “Sorry I made you dirty again,” Dusk murmured, embarrassed. Derpy Hooves looked down to see her chest and legs streaked and smeared with grays and whites from her contact with the weird guest. “It’s okay,” she shrugged, “I’ll just wash it off before I go to work. Will I see you again?” she finished with imploring eyes. “I don’t know,” Dusk answered truthfully, although privately she doubted it. “Good bye Duskie,” Miss Hooves offered. “Duskie” looked out and then back at Derpy. There was a moment of silence. The cross-eyed pony turned more cross-eyed than usual before finally asking, “What?” “I can’t fly,” Dusk confessed, flapping her deficient wings lamely. “I need to travel quickly, but I can’t fly.” “What’s so important that you have to be so fast?” the blond pegasus questioned again. “The world is ending,” the odd one began, but paused to calculate. “And I need to see my family.” Derpy gave a doleful frown. “You really think the world is ending?” Dusk considered the eponymous horizon where the sun still refused to rise or fall. “Probably,” she sighed. Derpy flew out the door and hovered in front of the edge of the cloud. She dug something like a snowball out of her home cloud and brought it to her friend. “You should just use cloud booties!” she suggested cheerfully. “Booties?” Dusk repeated dubiously. “Of course,” Derpy chirped, “All the little pegasus fillies wear these when they’re just learning to fly.” She chided playfully, “Don’t you know anything?” and stuck the puffy blob onto Dusk’s hoof. After she received the complete set, Dusk felt sillier and lighter. Flapping her small wings, she pulled herself off of the cloud and moved out into empty space. At first she flailed around clumsily, but gaining control, she returned to land where she started. “Good!” bubbled Derpy. “How far do you need to go?” “At least as far as Ponyville,” Dusk replied, again glancing doubtfully at her hoofwear. “I seriously doubt I can make it to Ponyville,” she thought. “The world is sooooo ending.” Derpy disappeared into the house and reappeared with a rope tied around her neck. Before Dusk could say, “You don’t need to hang yourself,” Derpy was giving her the other end of the rope. She explained, “We can get to Ponyville fast if we go together!” “What about your job?” Dusk could only ask. “It’s not going anywhere, and there are really more important things,” Ditzy Doo admitted. “You need to see your family.” The salt-and-pepper pegasus, still shocked at her friend’s good will, stammered, “Wow, thanks…but what—“ “Bite it,” Derpy interjected, holding out the end of the rope. Dusk complied. “Now you just hold yourself up and hold on!” Derpy instructed before immediately rolling over in the air and flying west. Dusk’s eyes widened as the slack in the rope disappeared, and with an “Ungh!” she was yanked off the cloud into the sky. Ditzy Doo, breaking free of the constraints of daily life, surged forward exuberantly. With Dusk in tow, she cleared the next cloud house and set her sights on the horizon. Her passenger, however, was still on trajectory for the house. Dusk scrambled uselessly on her cloud shoes as if to run the other way on the air but obviously found no traction. She tasted cloud as she left a deep impression on the wall before scraping along after Derpy, who pushed determinedly ahead. The agile flyer gave polite space to a milk-pony completing his “morning” rounds. Dusk careened into the unsuspecting pony. In the resulting crash, she lost hold of the rope and milk bottles went flying. She started to apologize, but the pegasus colt dove towards the cityscape to save his falling cargo. She found herself leaning forwards awkwardly and having a hard time keeping altitude. A quick glance revealed her empty hoof. “I lost my bootie!” she cried. “Derpy!” Derpy was flitting away happily, not only unaware but also quite pleased with her abilities. “It was a little rough to get going, but now I’ve got the hang of it!” she cheered, “At this rate we’ll get to Ponyville in no time, right Duskie?” She turned to look for congratulations behind her but only found a dangling rope. “Aww derp.” Dusk struggled to balance on three hooves until her helper appeared to retrieve her. She urged, “This time, let’s fly under the neighborhood.” Trying to be helpfully quick, Derpy had the cord back in her mouth before she could mention the cloud shoe. The two swooped down into the space between the factories and lower layer of cloud apartments. They suffered no more collisions, but passing commuters laughed at Dusk as she limped and wobbled at the end of her string. As they left the city, she figured out that she could wrap the rope around her unshod hoof and assume a stance almost like water skiing. “Great, now that nopony’s looking I can have some dignity,” she grumbled. They traveled miles of dim sky, slowly but surely pulling the faint features of the earth under them from one horizon to the other. Comparatively few incidents interrupted their airborne road trip. Night fell suddenly as they flew, but Ditzy still knew the way. Someone had dropped the sun; did they really have something better to do? In one broad vista, bright orange on the north horizon replaced the dusk light. The burning ground illuminated pillars of smoke that blotted out the stars. “Wow, look at that wildfire,” Derpy marveled. “It’s pretty! I hope no pony gets hurt though.” Dusk knew instinctively that it was no wildfire. The eerie lights that moved through the smoke betrayed the conquering armada. She didn’t disillusion her companion. Dusklight returned as they finally landed at the edge of Ponyville. They sat down in the grass and caught their breath. After a reluctant moment, Derpy turned to Dusk and said, “I guess it’s really good-bye this time, Duskie. Enjoy your time with your family.” Dusk had thought along the way what to say to her new friend. How could she thank her? She suggested, “I’m not the only one with something more important to do than deliver mail. You should go back to Dinky. With everything that’s going on, she needs you right now.” “You’re right,” Derpy agreed, “My poor little filly!” She hazarded another sooty hug. “Thank you Duskie. I want my Dinky, she’s all I wanted this whole time. Good bye.” Dusk waved as Derpy Hooves rose up, gave a last look, and flew out of sight. The pegasus mother started her second trip heading southeast. She was tired after the first flying journey, but nothing could hold her back now.
PonyvilleChapter 8 Dusk sat a while looking far into the southeastern sky. Her immediate surroundings suddenly came into focus and jammed a new thought into her mind. “Oh no, not again,” she gulped. She was alone. The quaint country town had long ago been a model town. Now it had fallen into some disrepair. It was hard living on the border between hostile superpowers. Some of the structures were bright and fresh, contrasting sharply with broken and scorched ruins beside them. Ponyville had felt the last war. The new buildings represented not expansion but reconstruction. Dusk plodded reluctantly up Main Street, which was mostly empty, although some ponies could be seen. The town hall caught her interest, and she assumed a steady trot toward it. Surely someone there would be willing to answer a few questions. The hall stood, resolute like a worn standard, commanding pride for the damage received in faithful service. Inside there was the commotion of an urgent meeting. Perhaps she could just listen and find out what she needed to know. She could figure things out; she hadn’t come here by accident, after all. She sat down by the door, which was held open a crack by a doorstop. She heard one voice talking above concerned murmurs: “—So the town itself should not be in danger this time. We should have some faith that our homes will stand, and we will have a future when this is all past. The principal danger is really brigands, deserters or other robbers. Lock your doors and hide your valuables, and that means food and water, not money. Now, a town watch should be appointed for after—“ Dusk was struck with a sudden affliction. Burning pain ran up her leg and played through her chest. When the feeling touched her lungs it triggered dry and painful coughs. She doubled over, gritting her teeth and rolling on the ground. The hot, stabbing sensation wound its way down her back before dissipating into a tingle. She lay on the ground panting and whimpering. The door to the hall swung open and rested against her, half-hiding her. Citizens hurried out to return to their dwellings and make preparations. Dusk had only just regained focus as the last of them were leaving. A finely dressed mare with a curly white mane was the last to go. Dusk croaked weakly, “Wait!” but her hoarse voice did not reach the mayor. She lay still a while longer and recovered. Soon she could not detect any trace of whatever had come over her, and she was left to wonder what had happened. She picked herself up and looked inside the hall. It was indeed empty. Her stomach was also empty. “There’s no Derpy this time, so I’m really gonna have to take care of myself,” she realized. “And no stupid stuff,” she added determinedly. She scoured her view of Ponyville for sustenance. Slow to accept the coming famine, a fruit stand in front of the Farmer’s Corner down the street was still selling apples. A broad-shouldered colt who looked used to farm work stood overseeing the product and his filly. Dusk trotted a couple shops away and stopped. “No bits, no beer,” she recited. She ducked behind the corner of a shop with boarded up windows. She stole another peek at the vendor and considered her options. She could appeal to their better sentiments. “Despite these harsh times, they’re probably as generous as a deprived mother who half-mistakes me for her baby,” Dusk murmured sarcastically and rolled her eyes. (It didn’t actually look like much when she rolled her eyes, she realized.) Ponies were supposed to find work to earn bits and buy food. The idea struck her as absurd in her situation. That would take way too much time, and wouldn’t she need food to work? The thought of giving up on food for now was vetoed by her belly’s angry growls. They would give her food if they knew what she was doing, but clearly, she couldn’t tell them. In fact, she was on the job, and she deserved some payment. “I ought to have a heck of a lot more payment than a meal, but you get what you can,” she grumbled. She took another look at the fruit stand. The owner began talking with some pony through an open door behind him. He gave instructions to the little pink filly before stepping inside to discuss some pressing matter. Dusk retreated behind the closed-down business where she was hiding and slinked through the alley. She crept up carefully along the wooden-slat wall of the Farmer’s Corner, dodging under a white windowsill to avoid detection from the two talking inside. She leaned half her face around the corner to look towards her target. She was close now, and it would be easy to blow it. The little one was watching, but luckily she was looking the other way down the street. She stared anxiously down the road that led out of town into the great “out there” where all the bad ponies came from. Some of the apples were in a basket. “Thanks for setting that out for me,” she imagined telling the farmer. Dusk tiptoed out of her hiding place, assured of her stealth. She only made it a few steps before the filly spun around, her eyes wide as saucers under her yellow bangs. “Daddy!” she cried in alarm. Dusk leapt to the fruit and took the handle of the basket in her teeth. The brash filly, brave with the close presence of her father, moved to block her retreat and indignantly whined, “Hey, stop it!” The colt’s head emerged from the door and took in the intruder with shock for a split second before reacting. Dusk desperately pushed the filly to the ground and stepped over to flee the scene with her loot. The little pink one bawled and the owner’s expression moved from concern to wrath. The enraged father galloped after her; however nice or not he was before, the gloves were off now. The bandit dodged through the buildings on the other side of the street. She lost a couple of apples scrambling over the trash and debris in the alley, and was forced out onto the cross street by a fence. The owner had guessed her path and charged at her from the side, almost on top of her. She dashed the other way out of town with her pursuer a few steps behind. More apples bounced out of the swaying basket and rolled under her. She hoped that youthful vigor would be on her side, but that proved far too confusing for her to think about while running. In any case, the twice-slighted colt was gaining on her and she had to tuck her tail away from his pounding hooves. Remembering her wings she forced the air ahead of her back into her pursuer’s face. Half-flying across the ground, she pulled away from him slightly, escaping the immediate threat of being crushed. She gasped through her teeth with the exertion. If the chase didn’t end soon she would run out of oxygen. Dusk made for a thicket of trees and low bushes. She pushed between scratching branches and had to fold her wings to keep from damaging them. The colt was bigger and smashed through the underbrush without falling behind. Now, however, she was really in her shadowy element. In the constant twilight, the shade of the trees was deep. Her streaked coat camouflaged her outline in the tangle of brush and sticks, and the dark little thief vanished. Frustrated in his attempt, the apple vendor hollered, “Stay gone, you spider-hatched alley cunt! If you ever come back, I’ll chew you like tobacco.” With that, concern again broke on his face and he ran back to collect his daughter. As Dusk recovered from the fear of being caught, she did feel bad about hitting the filly. “The little fool got in my way! What was I supposed to do?” she rationalized. Now holding more reason than usual to be wary of civilization, she continued away from the town. A raven crowed loudly above her and flew off. Startled, she found herself again running away. She fled up a path on a hill overlooking the town. Something glowed blue beneath her and she tripped, landing on her face and flinging the prized fruit ahead of her out of the smashed basket. Finding only a stray root under her legs, Dusk lifted her deep eyes up to a figure that appeared from the dark. It loomed threateningly over her from the edge of the path where it crested the top of the hill. Against the faint light of the sky, Dusk could see an odd silhouette that began billowy and indistinct at the ground and ended in a defined point at the top. It stretched out a hoof to gently catch an apple that bounced forward out of the spilt basket. “Thanks,” said an unconcerned voice, and the glint of a haughty smile appeared on a half-concealed face. Dusk stood and turned to run. A shimmering mist obscured the ground in front of her. Not to be tripped again, she jumped through the cloud, only to smack headlong into a sturdy tree branch. The mist dissipated around her as she thudded back to earth. Finding herself out-robbed and out-smarted, Dusk conceded defeat. Still exhausted and afraid to get back up, she only raised her head to see what the victor would do. The assailant took a bite of the apple and surveyed Dusk’s disheveled and pathetic form, sprawled on the dirt. She came into focus; a blue unicorn wearing a purple magician’s cap and cape with an enormous sapphire broach. “So they chased you out of Ponyville too?” she half-sympathized, but she was really looking at the town. “None of them down there understand. They’re part of it. The other towns are too, but not like—Ponyville,” she sneered the name as an insult. “They’re all part of the world.” Dusk blinked uncomprehendingly; it was clear that the speaker thought her statement profound. The blue one caught her expression and frowned. “They’re all part of making a world that doesn’t have a place for ponies like us,” she explained. She raised her snout at Dusk and disclaimed, “Not that we’re the same, blank flanks.” Dusk shrugged off the old insult and appealed, “So will you let me go?” “If you want to run away from a place to sleep,” the unicorn shot back with an offer. Blue light emanated from under her tall hat, and the scattered apples obediently leapt into the basket. “Are you coming, or are you just going to lie there?” Dusk realized that she didn’t have much of a choice; sadly, she still couldn’t seem to take care of herself. While the stranger wasn’t particularly friendly, she found it refreshing to hear a pony tell it like it is. Derpy was great but relentlessly cutesy. Dusk got up to follow, but first asked, “Who are you?” The blue one put a hoof on her chest and boasted, “It’s Trixie.”
Magician's MisfortunesChapter 9 Trixie led her to a wagon that sat overlooking the town. Its purple covering held a chaotic jumble of colorful props and gizmos. “Uh, great? Now we can get to your home faster?” Dusk asked. “This is home,” the unicorn replied, with just a touch of sentimentality. The weathered old cart had seen many roads. “Oh,” Dusk could only reply. The unicorn’s cape trailed as she jumped up into the back of the wagon. She turned and motioned for Dusk to come aboard, but cautioned, “Don’t break anything.” The little gray one hesitated before joining her second hostess. “How does this keep happening to me?” she wondered. She could not decide if she was suspicious of Trixie or the universe itself, but with an assisting beat of her wings she entered the unicorn’s mobile home. She carefully picked a place to sit on the wood floor beside a projector and a heap of spinny things. Trixie lounged comfortably on a large cushion thrown over a crate, which seemed to be her bed. “Trixie doesn’t have guests over for dinner, but since everything else fell apart she may as well try it,” Trixie said. “Trixie doesn’t normally share, but we outcasts have to look out for each other. No one else will.” Dusk cocked her eyebrow at the use of the third person, but instead of questioning it she quietly received an apple that Trixie passed to her. She finally had the opportunity to taste the shiny red fruit she had been to so much trouble for. She finished it in big ravenous bites, and smiled as the flavor burst in her mouth. She took another apple out of the basket. Before munching on it, she questioned, “What do you do? Why do you live in a wagon?” “Trixie is a travelling magician, a performer and worker of wonders,” she introduced herself humbly. “Trixie was quite well known in her time. Despite Ponyville—“ she grimaced at the thought and reached for a drink. There was a keg and a row of assorted bottles on the floor beside Trixie’s bed. Her dangling hoof skimmed over three empty containers, lying flat on the floor as they were counted off. She picked up the first one that was standing, which left one more. She pulled off the stopper and took a deep swig. She took great relief from it, praising it: “Cider, hard as Celestia’s iron hoof. That’s how to use apples.” “No,” she tersely replied to Dusk’s interested and thirsty looks. “Despite that place,” she shook her hoof out the front of the wagon where she could see the town as she continued, “Trixie was actually on her way to the big leagues. Then shit happened.” “Hey, I think I actually saw a show a long time ago. Don’t you mean the Great and Powerful Trixie?” asked Dusk. The unkempt magician narrowed her eyes and scowled. Dusk pulled back from her intense glare, and the strange unicorn relaxed a little looking at the honest curiosity of the questioner. She sighed heavily, saying, “No, just Trixie.” She flung her blue chin up as she took a gulp from her flask of—VERY—hard cider. “I knew some GREAT and POWERFUL ponies,” she explained to the night sky. “And you know what? All that POWER and GREATNESS made them either dead…” she paused for dramatic effect, “or awful bitches.” Trixie never would have guessed it, but Dusk quickly made a note that she belonged to the latter category, if not both. She took another draught of that pungent cider. “Not to bother you with all my troubles…”—as the gray one also noted, that was precisely her intent—“But it’s a hard life for a magician these days. You can’t make a living with fireworks and the whole show ruckus anymore. Now ponies can’t stand the slightest pop. You’d think everypony had PTSD, the way they flinch and cower,” she continued, balancing a mocking tone with real sadness, “like the fires of war had come again.” “It will now,” Dusk thought. Judging by the quantity of cider, she didn’t need to make anything worse, so she kept her peace. That last bottle in the chain was something else though. Dusk checked the label while Trixie was looking the other way; it was pure alcohol. With that discovery, she mustered the interest to ask, “Why can’t you perform someplace the war didn’t hit as hard?” “Cause Trixie was banished from the Solar Empire and the New Lunar Republic,” she stated matter-of-factly. She continued her original train of thought without missing a beat: “And some of these earth ponies on the border are even afraid of magic. Ponies won’t let Trixie perform because, Trixie quotes, ‘Magic decapitated my brother.’ Sucks for him, but Trixie’s gotta live. Who in Equestria can be afraid of magic? The sky is magic, friendship is magic, Trixie is magic. Get over it.” “The sun is raised with magic,” Dusk indulged. “Yeah? Trixie already mentioned that,” the unicorn pointed out. The pegasus newcomer latched on to a good story, asking, “How do you get banished from the Empire AND the Republic?” “Those are big stories; you have to take them one at a time,” Trixie said, and revised the question, “Trixie will tell you how she was banished from the Solar Empire.” “It was the high point of Trixie’s rise to fame, or what should have been Trixie’s rise to fame. Word got around that Trixie was great and powerful, and entertaining, and she was invited to the palace to perform at a party. Not a happy-birthday-party kind of party, a gathering of respectable politicians for relaxation with food and tasteful theatre. Princess Celestia was there, at least half the time. Of course, she showed up late, probably from her bedroom, but Trixie doesn’t pry. When she came, Trixie had to stop calling herself great and powerful.” “Of course it’s difficult to perform in front of a goddess. Whenever she wasn’t worshipping herself or making her officials look stupid, she was watching Trixie. She could probably see through everything Trixie did. Since Celestia practically invented magic, Trixie tried to throw her for a loop with sleight-of-hoof more than real magic. Trixie used real magic to misdirect her attention from some down-to-earth trickery, and it almost worked. The Princess gave Trixie knowing looks as Trixie completed some of her acts; sometimes she was surprised. She figured them all out after a few moments, but keeping her amused was its own achievement. Trixie made something appear from her hat; but not to be cliché, she pulled her hat from her hat, and let the original blow away like dust.” Trixie paused to point to Dusk and interject, “If she told you how she did that, Trixie would have to kill you.” She resumed her narrative: “That’s what was supposed to happen, anyway. When Trixie put her new hat on and let the old one blow away, a round flask fell out of it. It was Trixie’s flask but she couldn’t remember putting it there. It half-bounced as it shattered on the stage, and splashed potion all over one of the high-powered gentlecolts. It was an expensive potion, and Trixie would never use that much of it at once, and never on a pony. Anyway, he got a little smaller, his mouth turned into a beak, and he grew some little green appendages on his back. He wriggled out of his suit and bucked across some tables, squawking, spilling drinks, and spreading panic. It only lasted a few seconds, and he was normal again, except naked. You don’t see most ponies minding being naked, but with all the pomp in the capitol they get used to a professional appearance. Anyway, just as he came to his senses he found himself standing on two legs on the table in front of Celestia, yelling—“ Trixie and Dusk shouted together, “YOU’RE MY BUG BANANAS!” The two shook the wagon with laughter for a second. Dusk rolled around on the floor, remembering his shocked face. Trixie turned deathly silent and glared at her listener. Dusk met her gaze and stopped laughing, and still air recaptured the area. “You were there?” Trixie inquired in disbelief. “I had a friend who was serving drinks, she told me about it,” Dusk lied artfully. “I get around too you know.” “Yeah,” Trixie agreed insincerely. She altered her story and continued, albeit flustered by her surprising audience, “Anyway the big shot wasn’t too happy about it, and had me banished. I guess you already know that. The potion was slightly illegal, but I never put it in that hat. Celestia got a huge kick out the whole thing, but she didn’t say anything when they kicked Trixie out. She must have had something to do with it. The deal with the Republic wasn’t Trixie’s fault either. Something followed her across the border, so of course she’s some kind of security hazard or something. Now Trixie’s stuck in the DMZ. Come to think of it, that probably had something to do with Celestia too. Awful bitch.” “Yeah, awful bitch,” Dusk repeated with conviction, but looked away from the outcast performer. “What brings you here to the border?” Trixie probed. “I need to find my family,” Dusk regurgitated her statement to Derpy. It was so easy to say to the trusting pegasus mother, but not so much with this cynical wayfarer. “Do they have names?” the interrogation continued. Dusk’s mind spun, inventing Amber, River, and Mountain Song. Stretching out in front of her she could see a network of occupations, character traits, motivations, and other lies tripping over each other. She used to be able to handle this kind of stuff all the time, but she was tired of it. “No,” she lamely replied. “Finding them’s gonna be difficult then,” Trixie jabbed sarcastically. “Look, I’m still running from my secrets,” Dusk divulged. “Can you let it be? Maybe I’ll tell you the truth in the morning, but I have to think about it.” Trixie relaxed her demeanor. She could respect a pony that held her cards close. Most of the time, that’s what Trixie did, but tonight she had felt the need to vent her frustrations to no one, and Dusk had seemed like the perfect no one. If her half-kidnapped guest began to trust her, they could enjoy a little outcast sisterhood; if not, Dusk would probably be gone before the morning. Trixie was done for the evening and lay down on her cushions. She rested the bottle and her hat on the barrel that served as her nightstand. With a guest for distraction, she hadn’t made it to that last bottle. Remembering Dusk on the bare wood she tossed down a thick purple blanket. “Um, do you have something gray?” the gray one requested. “You’ll thank me later.” “What’s wrong with the one Trixie gave you?” the irritated unicorn said, feeling as though her wild generosity was not being appreciated. “See, I have this thing, and if it’s not gray, I might—“ Dusk trailed off, embarrassed. Her wide eyes moistened and dripped across her face. “Are you crying?!” Trixie demanded with exasperation. “What? No,” Dusk deflected. She took a deep breath and explained, “I have this weird problem where I get ash on everything I touch, and it makes my eyes water. If I sleep on something gray, it wouldn’t show up as much.” “Huh? Ew,” Trixie made a face and pointed a hoof out the back of the wagon. “Get out before you get ash on all of Trixie’s stuff.” “But Trixie said I could stay,” Dusk pleaded, intentionally begging with teary puppy-dog eyes. She found it easier to cry when she realized she had been drawn into the third-person madness. Trixie caved, “Ugh, all right, just stop crying!” With that she lowered her horn and blinded Dusk with blue magic rays. “That should keep the ash away for a while.” The little pegasus felt the sting leave her eyes. “Wow, thanks,” Dusk replied, blinking comfortably for the first time. The small-time magician flung her a coarse gray blanket. The two bedded down and slept the astronomically ambiguous time period away.
The SecretChapter 10 A subliminal insistence roused Dusk from a fitful sleep. She raised her head and looked instinctively to the arc of sky that stood framed by the tarp at the back of the wagon. A ribbon of green vapor was pooling into a neat orb just inside the enclosure. It disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving behind a small piece of parchment. She blinked and shook her head. “A message for me? How could this happen?” she thought anxiously. She wished she had been awake to see what direction it had come from. Her heart beat faster as she reached out and gingerly touched it, to angle it toward her. It read only: “Come back.” Dusk debated her response for a moment. In rising frustration, she narrowed her eyes at the paper. Her face took on an almost imperceptible radiance. She gritted her teeth and concentrated harder. A bright flicker on her forehead triggered an answering flicker on the parchment. A small flame stood up off the paper, and grew steadily until the message was reduced to ashes. As both lights died down, she rubbed the spot on her forehead and whispered, “What Trixie doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Probably.” She cast a sideways glance to where Trixie lay behind her. She gasped; the unicorn was staring with wide open, violet eyes. Dusk turned away reflexively and hid her face behind a corner of the gray blanket she rested on. She almost held her breath as she waited for Trixie to say something. After receiving only a tense silence, she looked back to the blue one. Dusk met her vacuous stare until Trixie gave a small snore; the traveling magician had learned how to sleep with her eyes open. Dusk calmed a little and was able to focus on the implications of the message. “They’re trying to find me,” she mused. “It’s a good thing Derpy didn’t go back to her house.” Carrying this train of thought down the line to Trixie, she realized, “Trixie should be watching me. I’m putting her in danger too.” She thought about all the ponies that were in danger and dying. “Why am I still here? How did I let hunger and a bad cough keep me from doing what I need to do already?” Regret began to pile up into a panic. If she wasn’t guilty enough already, her negligence was doing more damage every minute. She took a deep breath. “No sense doing this in crazy mode.” Dusk rose and approached the sleeper. She needed to know something before she left. Trixie’s somnolent stare was fixed on the bottle of hard cider by her hat on the nightstand. Dusk put her hoof out to reach for the liquor. As she touched it, Trixie growled, “No.” Dusk quickly withdrew her hoof and waited. Trixie didn’t move or make another sound. Dusk picked up the cider and put it down, urging, “Wake up.” Trixie raised her head and snatched the bottle, holding it to her chest defensively. Peering over the bags in her eyes, she gave the intruder a surly look. Before the groggy unicorn could find words to protest, Dusk asked, “Where are the guns?” Tired and mildly hung over, Trixie stumbled to catch up to the question, “You little thief, don’t touch Trixie’s—guns?” She squinted in confusion and rambled, “Trixie doesn’t have guns. She wouldn’t give you any if she did. Why do you need guns?” “Not your guns,” Dusk clarified, “Where is the Ponyville battery? Crescent Fastness? Luna’s long guns?” Trixie was speechless at being assaulted with such inane questions. She heaved herself up and across the wagon and yanked back one end of the purple covering. “Did you check the giant castle thing with the glowing moon banners?!” she quipped incredulously. Sure enough, off the other side of the hill from Ponyville stood a massive stone and concrete fortification. Looking slightly down on the sprawling complex, they could make out its eponymous shape. It was not a thematic indulgence; the castle-battery guarded the whole stretch of sky known as the Ponyville corridor, framed by mountain ranges to the north and south. The guns were spread in a near-semicircle so that the deadly weapons faced every mile of the mouth of this channel. “I, uh, hadn’t looked that way yet,” Dusk confessed sheepishly. “What is this about?” Trixie demanded. “I need to find out where Luna is,” the strange pegasus replied. “The Princess? Trixie already found her,” the unicorn boasted. “They usually have only three banners. Yesterday they added that big extra-shiny crescent. Somepony big is home.” “Excellent, I need to meet her,” Dusk blurted. “It’s really important, and the less you know the better for you.” “Oh really?” Trixie replied, unimpressed. She looked at Dusk who sat looking at the fortress. They continued sitting. Something had clearly stolen the early-riser’s eager energy. “Well if it’s so important, go on.” “Yeah,” Dusk moaned and looked down. “You’re still here. What gives?” Trixie questioned. Dusk sighed and admitted, “I’m scared. I’m not sure I can face her. What will they say? Will they kill me?” Trixie finally collected some concern and said, “Look here.” Dusk met her gaze with troubled black eyes. The unicorn studied her intensely, and lit up as she found what she was searching for. The performer donned her pointed cap and bluntly diagnosed, “So… you need this like Trixie needs the big stage, but you’re afraid of what ponies will think or do, so you’re just going to sit here and feel awful?” Dusk was surprised that Trixie could be so understanding, and let her guard down. She nodded sorrowfully. The magician hammered a hoof on the floor and declared, “That’s a shitty plan. You better get your sorry ass ready to meet your destiny.” Powered by internal frustrations, she leapt out onto the ground. “Follow Trixie—or does she have to drag you?” Dusk’s jaw hung open as she reeled from the outburst. “Trixie’s house, Trixie’s rules. You’re not going to waste your life in her wagon.” Dusk collected herself and obediently disembarked. “Let Trixie do you a favor and show you how we do things. No pony’s gonna give you what you want, you’ve gotta get out there and take it.” They started the hike to the NLR base down a path through light forest. Trixie set the pace and kept Dusk from reluctantly slowing down. “Come on, we’ll just get it over with.” “I’m thinking about what I should say,” Dusk excused. “If you came to Ponyville just to talk to her, you probably know what you need to say,” Trixie pointed out. “Yeah, I guess I do,” Dusk realized, “I guess I’m just worried about presentation.” “Mm-hm,” Trixie understood. “Will they let you see the top pony?” “Aw, shit,” the not-so-street-smart pegasus replied, “I didn’t think of that.” “In Trixie’s day, she could get you in, but now that she’s banished…” the performer almost offered. “If Trixie knows some pony in the camp she might be able to arrange something. If all else fails, she could put on a little show and draw some attention. She could draw attention to you or away from you, your pick, just don’t get yourself shot.” “Yeah, that’s a last resort,” Dusk agreed. Given a choice to try to enter from the front or the back of Crescent Fastness, they would have decided to come to the Lunar side. The front was particularly menacing, but given Trixie’s current status, they were obliged to approach there. As they drew closer they came upon a network of trenches, bunkers, and barricades that stretched out from either point of the crescent to prevent it from being flanked. The path left the new edge of the forest; the trees closer to the defenses were cut down to provide a clear line of fire on anyone nearby. The soldiers that occupied the positions paid little attention to the passers-by besides a few casual glances at the odd pair. They were busy moving supplies, cleaning their weapons, and resting. They came to the trench line next to the fortress itself to see if they could gain entry. A blond head with a wide-brimmed hat popped up out of the trench and called out, “Trixie? What are you doing here?” in a country drawl. “Oh, you know this pony?” Dusk piped up hopefully. Trixie whispered in her ear, “Yeah. Not good,” and loudly replied, “Hey, Applejack.” “That’s Major Applejack,” the major touted. “I’m surprised you came back to Ponyville, but if I heard right you got banished from everywhere else. I guess the rest of the world wouldn’t put up with your great and powerful schmocus either.” “How bad could it be?” Dusk tried to put Trixie at ease. “Ponyville bad,” Trixie replied under her breath. Applejack asked, “What are you up to this time?” “Just helping a friend,” the performer answered, and jabbed sarcastically, “Friendship is magic, isn’t it?” The major gave a deep scowl. “I bet you want me to let you in here, so you can bring some Solar goon with you again.” She eyed Dusk suspiciously. “That was not Trixie’s fault,” the storied traveler griped. “You’re already banished, anyway. To be particular, you’re on Republic soil right this very minute. You’d be in trouble if I didn’t have more important things to do,” the major half-threatened. Trixie turned to Dusk and stated, “You’re on your own.” The little gray pegasus gulped as the frustrated magician left her side and rested a short ways off. “Maybe it’s just as well,” Dusk thought. She trotted meekly up to the barbed wire, which stretched around the whole position a few feet from the trench. Applejack turned from hostile to curious with Trixie out of the equation. Dusk mustered an assertive attitude and stated plainly, “I need to speak with Princess Luna.” Applejack gave her a surprised and quizzical expression. “How do ya figure that?” “I know where Celestia is,” Dusk divulged. It was quite a claim, but at least it couldn’t be ignored. “Oh really?” the major reacted doubtfully. “And where might that be?” “I can’t tell you,” the little pony refused the question. “I’ll only tell Luna.” “That might be a problem,” Applejack warned. “We’ve had enough assassins. Not just any pony can talk to the Princess. How about ya tell me and I’ll tell her.” “I’ll only tell Luna,” Dusk repeated with finality. “Well if that’s the way it’s gonna be—“ she interrupted her own line of thought. A clever smile crossed her face. “Actually, there’s a way to settle this.” She climbed out of the trench and stood just behind the wire. “Come here.” Dusk didn’t know what to think of this new change of pace, but stepped up to the other side of the spiky barrier. “Ya know, in Canterlot, they have fancy gizmos that can tell if you’re lyin’.” Dusk muttered, “Yeah…” and wondered if she would have to go through another round of mind games. “Well they ain’t worth nothin’,” the major declared with conviction, and took a revolver out of her belt. “Why don’t you look Applejack in the eye and tell her if you’re an assassin?” “This is quaint,” the city pony thought, but realized she was nervous. “No, of course I’m not an assassin.” After staring deep into her eyes, Applejack conceded, “Alright,” and holstered her weapon. “Can’t be too careful.” She asked pleasantly, “What do you need to tell Luna?” “I know where Celestia is,” Dusk repeated. The major soured and spit on the ground. “Nope. It’s a damn lie. I don’t trust you.” “That’s not fair!” Dusk exclaimed, “All you did was look at me.” “I can tell when a pony’s honest,” Applejack avowed, “and I don’t trust you.” Dusk sat down and huffed in frustration. All this way, and she was stopped by quibbles over a half-truth. Her mind spun; could she get the major to reconsider without telling her too much? It didn’t seem likely. It also wasn’t plausible to give up at this point. Just then, she was astonished to catch sight of Luna herself. The Princess had been on a stone platform that stood in the middle of the Lunar camp between points of the crescent. She had been obscured from view by camouflage-netting screens, but now she stepped down into the open. The moonlight twinkled in her mane and tail as the royal blue-purple alicorn strode majestically towards the battery. Past the beauty of the night Princess, her silver armor bespoke a grim intent. Its style and outline were arranged carefully to avoid a similar appearance to that worn by Nightmare Moon, but parallels were inevitable. Several unicorns followed her off of the platform. The sun finally gave up its tenuous grip on the horizon and its orange light receded. The Princess and her magical entourage must have been holding it up, but now they moved on to other matters. Applejack also saw what was happening. “Uh oh. Imperial Army must be close.” She turned to Dusk and cautioned, “It’s not safe for you here,” before realizing in shock that she was talking to empty air. Dusk had seized on the distraction provided by the sudden nightfall. She jumped and beat her wings, clearing the barbed wire and an incensed Applejack. She scurried along trenches, dodged through a bunker, and flung herself to the ground in front of Luna. The Princess’s guards drew guns on the intruder and one unicorn shielded her highness with a shimmering wall of magic. They froze for tense seconds. Major Applejack caught up and wanted to drag Dusk away by the tail, but stopped to consider the Princess’s demeanor. Although a larger-than-life figure, the founding Premier of the Republic was not so large as her older sister; but beside her, Dusk seemed smaller than a filly. Luna took a deep breath and allowed compassion for the pitiful pegasus to overrule her busy thoughts. She wondered that this little pony would face such dangers to see her. She took on a glow as the moonlight collected around her gentler side. At her sign the magic barrier was dropped. “What is it, little one?” she said softly. Dusk was suddenly overwrought, less from the threatening weapons than from Luna’s presence. She moved her mouth but failed to make a sound. Luna leaned her head down close to the frightened pony, and commanded “Speak,” but with a soothing calm. Her starry blue mane rippled placidly between them. Dusk took in the courage the great one offered, and took a deep breath. In a voice just above a whisper, she pleaded, “Luna, little sis. It’s Celestia. I don’t know how, but it’s me, and I need you.” Luna flung her head back as a nighttime thunderstorm burst within the dark of her eyes. A flood of memory was unleashed by the unexpected utterance. Emotions visibly crashed against each other. The gentle light around her disappeared. A thousand years of bitterness, another thousand of wasted tenderness and longing, an age of a groaning nation, and a future of eternal loneliness pressed themselves on her heart. Her beautiful face twisted in anger and then went slack. In her deep royal voice, she let out a tremendous and trailing sigh. The exhalation almost blew “Dusk” away and swept off Applejack’s prized hat. Soldiers around the camp and up on the walls of the stronghold stood up, worried for their leader. Luna lowered her voice back to the normal range and rebuked, “You do not know what you are saying.” “But I do,” the little one weakly protested. “Did someone send her?” Luna asked firmly. Major Applejack reported, “Yeah, some no good trickster brought her here.” The Princess scolded Dusk, “You should leave her and all who lead you to foolish plans.” She declared to the guards, “They are not to enter my sight again.” Desperation overcoming her temerity, Dusk shouted, “No!” Applejack pounced to cover her mouth and roughly dragged her away. “Of course, your majesty, won’t happen again,” the major apologized. Dusk struggled and managed to yell, “Wait! Don’t go!” despite Applejack’s best efforts. Luna and her guards turned away and marched into the gate of the Fastness. The irate cowgirl shoved her inside the bunker and up against the earthen wall. “What the hell did you do to the Princess?” she demanded. “I told the truth,” Dusk retorted. Applejack’s eyes went wild. “Don’t you talk to me about truth,” she growled. “Why?” Dusk snapped, “Because honesty is your element?” “Who do you think you are?” the major fumed, pressing harder. “Who am I? I’m Celestia!” the grey pegasus ranted. “Well okay, you’re insane,” Applejack conceded and released her. “If you were Celestia I would have put a bullet in your brain already.” “Look.” The little freak brushed aside the start of her white mane to reveal a stubby protrusion of bone on her forehead. “I’m fucking an alicorn!” That didn’t come out right. “I don’t care who ya do, get outta my bunker!” Applejack finally commanded, forcing her back down the trench and bucking her over the barbed wire where she had come in. The misfit alicorn slowed her fall a little with her wings, but still came down hard. She picked herself up, took a few steps, and fell back down. “Get back up, ya faker,” Applejack snorted, “Scram.” The little lump out on the dirt in the moonlight only twitched and groaned. Trixie had lounged non-chalantly, but now approached the scene to see what was wrong. “Don’t you come any closer, shyster. Y’all have done enough damage, get outta here.” Trixie’s temper rose, but she didn’t know what was going on, so she stopped. When Dusk began coughing violently, Trixie pressed on, feeling at least slightly responsible. “Hey, stop,” the major challenged. “What are you gonna do, shoot Trixie?” the brash unicorn dared and cocked her eyebrow provocatively. “Fine! Just get her outta here,” Applejack relented. Trixie gently levitated her partner-in-exile and brought her back to the start of the forest path. The unicorn set Dusk down but kept her horn aglow to see what was wrong. The stricken alicorn let out more grating and un-equestrian coughs before spitting up a mouthful of damp ash. All the washed-up entertainer could do was hold her until she recovered. An orange flicker from Dusk’s foreleg caught Trixie’s attention. What looked like an ember emerged on the surface of the skin. “Shit!” Trixie reeled in surprise. She gave it a couple quick spits before it sizzled and extinguished. At last Dusk pulled through and whimpered her thanks to Trixie. The experienced outcast asked, “What did they do to you?” “Not too much,” Dusk mumbled, “This happened to me once before. I must have some kind of condition.” “Trixie’s sorry if she made you do something crazy,” the performer gave a rare apology. Dusk shook her head. “No, I had to. I had to try, but now I’ve failed every pony.” “You’re as good at getting kicked out as Trixie,” Trixie lamented. She pulled something out from under her cloak. It was a flask of cider. “Drink up. You need it more than Trixie.” Dusk took it gratefully. Trixie squinted at the eastern horizon and warned, “There’s a storm coming. We better leave this place.” Dusk slumped over in despair, muttered, “We’re all toast,” and guzzled the intoxicating juice.
HoldChapter 11 Big Macintosh sidled up to his sister and handed the cowgirl her hat. “Thanks, Big Mac,” said Applejack. “What was all that commotion about?” he slowly asked. She shook her head. “Nothing much. Some weird ponies came in to bother the Princess. I guess we oughta head to our battle stations.” “Eeyup,” he agreed. They trotted through the familiar earthworks to the front of the defensive line next to the northern tip of Crescent Fastness. She yodeled, and hollered, “Rough Riders, get ready!” They were irregular soldiers in western garb, with cyan bands around their heads, chests, or legs to signify their allegiance. Those in the back of the position moved to the front, and those already at the front stood at attention. They were armed mostly with rifles, but a couple heavy machine guns were also dug into their station. General Burke Graywood strode behind the battle line, walking boldly over the exposed surface and crossing planks laid out over the trenches. Though he looked like an average brown earth pony, there was great pride in his bearing. He had risen through the ranks honestly to take his father’s command and saw it as his destiny to protect the Republic. “Where are the engineers? Are defensive preparations complete?” A pink pony head popped up from one of the rearward positions. Perky puffs of equally pink hair bulged out of her helmet and made it look like it might fall off. She held a shovel at attention, and replied with an inappropriate smile, “All ready to throw them a party!” “All forces report in,” he barked, and began to call out the units in order, “5th Lunar.” “5th Lunar Regulars, locked and loaded, sir!” a lieutenant reported from the walls of the fortress and shook his gun in the air. “Rough Riders.” “EEYUP!” Big Macintosh hollered. Applejack and some of the other country crack-shots waved their hats and whooped. “2nd Manehattan.” “2nd Manehattan, in position,” troops further down the line reported and saluted. The Lunar general continued down the battle line. His calls to each unit and the answering shouts faded from the Rough Riders’ hearing across the wide field of contest. He returned to the center of the line and climbed sandbag steps onto the roof of a bunker to address the army. Some looked up to him, but others still searched about or kept watch on the gate of the Fastness. Greywood paused to consider the horizon full of foreboding and the attitude of the troops. He had heard his fill of nervous murmurs from the trenches, and had planned his response. “Maybe you were expecting Luna to be standing here,” he began. “Do not be discouraged if you do not see her fighting with you. Luna is already fighting. As long as the big guns keep firing, consider that your divine protection from the Imperial fleet.” “I,” he bellowed, “I am your flesh-and-blood protection from the Imperial army. Should you be overwhelmed, I will send you reinforcements. Should reinforcements fail, I will reinforce you. Should I fail it will be with my last breath,” he swore, “But I will not fail. You will not fail. When the fighting is desperate, we will not retreat. We will not surrender. We will not die. We will not because we cannot.” The general pointed to the east, where faint shimmers in the air bespoke the coming foe. “In front of us wait all of Celestia’s destroyers, pillagers, and killers. There are rumors that Celestia is not with them. Some of you might think, now that they have a choice, they will show mercy to their fellow equines. I can tell you, they will not. Their Empress has taught them well. They will show no mercy, because she has never given them any. For them, anything that breathes behind this line is a traitor to blessed life itself. And what is behind us?” “Farmland, sir?” a rifleman on the bunker answered uncertainly. Applejack facehoofed, and griped, “Manehattanites.” “No!” roared General Greywood. He motioned forcefully to the west and declared, “When we stand here, we hold the Ponyville Gap. That means that ALL the farmland is behind us. Manehattan, Baltimare, and all the cities are behind us. All of the Republic is behind us. All of your homes and families are behind us. Luna is relying on us to stand to protect her while she protects all of Equestria. “That is why we cannot fail. Some of you are strong, and some of you are not; but tonight you are mighty stallions. You are so strong that should every weapon in the world attack, you will not break. You will hold the line because you cannot do otherwise.” Princess Luna placed herself in the middle of the massive gun bunker that was Crescent Fastness. She stood few discrete paces between and behind the busy crews of two center guns. There were twelve eighteen-inch guns in all. Luna’s long guns more than matched their name; the barrels of the two iron behemoths stretched forty feet out from their bases and protruded past the wall into the dark sky. Fluorescent lights guided the practiced movements of the ponies that kept the weapons as they lowered the artillery into a long-range firing angle and loaded the first huge shells. The Solar air fleet could not risk making the passage over the mountain ranges on either side; resistance from even a few Lunar destroyers or hostile pegasus winds could run the heavy airships aground on the rocky peaks. The fleet would have easier passage far to the south, but such a move would take time and possibly leave the Empire’s heartland open to counterattack. With its goddess’s shocking disappearance, the Empire demanded a quick strike to somehow save the sun or to simply deliver swift retribution. The long guns, built for destroying armored airships, would prevent the fleet’s passage through the Ponyville Gap as long as they were operational. Since the guns were the target of the entire Solar Empire, Luna was sure that they would be attacked by all means: by air, land, and magic. The eastern walls of Crescent Fastness were imperviously thick, and in the unlikely event that a shell entered the gun slits, steel plates between the weapons ensured that only one gun or crew would be lost. The greatest danger was of storming by ground assault or sabotage by teleportation. The magically endowed Princess bowed her head and concentrated her energy into a point in front of her. There, a few feet off the ground, ribbons of white light pooled as they streamed from her horn. She formed it into an almost solid pulsing sphere. In the middle of the strongpoint, the magic orb outshone the other lights, and all throughout ponies could feel a strange tingle. As it reached full size, the night Princess remained rapt in spinning the vaguely lunar object and whispering to it. A hush fell over the trenches as the attack grew imminent. Bullets jingled as the machine gunner next to Applejack fed a belt of ammo into the weapon. Soldiers with rocket launchers peeked over the edge of their hiding places, where they would be protected until they were needed. Overhead, storm clouds built up as they were moved into position. A brief plume of fire starkly illuminated the wall of the Fastness as a long gun opened the battle. All inside wore ear protection; it did not look stately or inspiring, but the Princess did as well. Luna did not flinch from the shockwave and kept focus on her protective arts. Small, fast Solar destroyers weaved their way through the cover of low hills on their way into the fight while the larger ships held off. More shots thundered out of the stronghold. The broad plain ahead of the defenders began to creep with shadows. As the Solar army approached, their ranks shimmered with points of light, religiously held forth by each soldier in homage to the sun. “What in tarnation are they doin? They’ll ruin their night vision,” an experienced Rough Rider commented. The destroyers now charged directly out of the hills over their army and the heavier warships drew into range. The Rough Riders heard the rumble of tracked vehicles and thousands of hooves and began to make out the shapes of the attackers. Lunar mortars behind them assailed the tide of dark silhouettes. They lined up their rifles on the advancing bodies of infantry. Suddenly day seemed to return with the eruption of a luminous shockwave over the Solar army. Sheets of bright green, yellow, and red covered the sky in an instant. Spotlights on vehicles and almost equally bright discharges of magic on the ground were joined by naval floodlights from the destroyers above. Across the battlefield, the Lunar soldiers closed their eyes or turned away from the blinding light. Pinkie Pie watched the display with exuberant satisfaction. “Damn sonic rainboom!” Applejack cursed. She covered her eyes with the brim of her hat, but not fast enough. “Damn Rainbow Dash.” Over the confusion, she heard the General Graywood’s booming voice calling frantically, “What’s going on!? Can anyone see the enemy?” She put on a pair of dark sunglasses and hollered, “I can see!” She raised her hat and forced herself to scan the gleaming Solar charge. She closed her teary eyes and announced, “Columns of ponies behind flamers and shield horns!” Hearing all he needed, the general ducked into the command bunker to send orders to all units. Some Lunar soldiers took cover to regain their vision and others tried to shoot towards the wave of light on the ground. It was to no avail; the whole enemy army was well protected from their gunfire. Flamethrower tanks and unicorns alternated across the front of the formation, with the following horde of earth ponies sheltering behind the armored vehicles and the bullet-repulsive spells. More unicorns cleared away tank blocks and other obstacles so that their forces could cross the exposed plain while the enemy was still disrupted. The army took casualties from mines but pressed forward. The NLR pegasi force sent down lightning from the wall of storm clouds and threatened to stall the advance. The enemy air destroyers fired a broadside of specialized shells that dispersed a gravelly mixture as they burst in midair. Within moments, the flying soldiers endured a hail of stinging particles that dispelled the clouds out from underneath them. Machine gun fire from an onrushing tank raked the dirt over the Rough Riders. “Missiles! Get out here and take out those tanks!” a lieutenant relayed. The anti-tank soldier behind the Apples’ trench started to rise out of his position but shied away from the bullets. “I can’t see them!” he called frantically. A unicorn galloped over the surface to their aid. He cast a green energy in front of the Rough Riders and yelled, “You’re safe! Get up and fight!” Hostile bullets turned aside, ricocheting off the empty air. Applejack leapt out from her cover to give the rocket pony her sunglasses. “Shoot the headlights!” she recommended, before returning to Big Mac’s side. Emboldened, the trooper stood up and took careful aim on the tank that was bearing down on them. The machine gunner on top saw the threat and impotently fired rounds into the protective spell. With a kick and a whine, the rocket flew out of the launcher and into the field of lights. The warhead made contact and the tank went dark and lifeless. With its shadow in stark relief to the lights behind, those in the trenches could see how close it was. Now that the sonic rainboom was fading into the black sky the attackers were so close that they were backlit by the floodlights of the destroyers. To the south, on the other side of the battlefield, a pony-sized shell from Luna’s long guns ripped open a Solar destroyer. The craft was engulfed in flame and crashed onto the plain. The Solar troops in front of it were starkly lit by the flames and took heavy casualties from Lunar marksmen. Daring Lunar pegasi swooped down to drop grenades into the unsheltered columns of earth ponies. Most of the flamethrower tanks were disabled by mines or missiles, and the defenses held. In the north, farther down the line from the Apples’ unit, the flack from the destroyers swatted down the flyers that attempted to bomb the columns. Even worse, most of the flamers got through. Their weapons sported lion or eagle figureheads that spat out burning streams of synthetics mixed with potion. The magically enhanced fire seemed to be alive; when it reached a trench, it curled over the edge and slithered down the length of it, devouring the occupants. Lunar reinforcements were sent to aid the north flank but Solars were already in the trenches. The heavy Solar warships shelled Crescent Fastness from miles away with their own huge guns. The face of the castle disappeared from view in ground-shaking explosions, but when the smoke cleared, it showed little damage. The armada shifted target from the battery to the trenches, where they took a heavy toll. The battery replied, damaging a cruiser so that it fell intact onto the hills; it would be useless for this battle, if not for the war. On the flagship Imperial Sovereignty, General Armor gave the order to deploy UNICROM. The secret team of military-trained unicorn magicians filed onto deck in full body armor but without weapons. They carried saddlebags full of high-grade explosives on their backs. The gold-plated General reared back and exhorted, “Destroy them so I can take Equestria, for Her light and honor!” Twelve unicorn commandos moved to the side of the ship to gain a view of the Lunar castle. At their leader’s signal they lit their horns and strained their minds towards their targets. Twelve synchronized flashes of different colors lit the deck as the saboteurs teleported away. Inside the Fastness, Luna still held up the shining orb. Suddenly jagged arcs of plasma spurted from its ethereal surface as if it took sharp impacts. Gun loaders dodged away from the turbulent enchantment and stared at the Princess in confusion. Its light dimmed and flickered under the punishment, but Luna closed her eyes and coaxed it back into a steady, bright ball. A second after departing, the commandoes reappeared in their places on the battleship. The surprised unicorns were hurled backwards across the deck as they materialized. Eleven struggled to their hooves, and one who was slammed into a bulkhead received medical attention. “They’ve created a barrier, general,” the team leader gasped as he recovered. The white face under the metal mask creased in frustration. “You said you could overcome any magical obstacles,” General growled. Shining Armor approached the smaller unicorn and put a hoof to his chest, locking eyes intensely, stallion to stallion. “Soldier, how long did you train for this? Did you get here by giving up?” “No sir!” the lead commando replied firmly, gathering his power with rising determination. “I can break the barrier,” he promised. “Follow me when it’s down!” He made his horn shine with red light and crackle with something like black lightning. He galloped across the steel floor and leapt towards his target, vanishing into the ethereal realms in mid-jump. Luna’s sphere burst into its constituent ribbons as a black presence forced its way into existence inside it. The bright cords stretched into a rough wire frame that almost engulfed the Princess as it expanded. Some white rays broke as the blackness grew. The ancient magician finally exerted her full power to send out fresh rays that surrounded the weakened node. She thrust her horn into the heart of the sphere and all the white light snapped back into the center, annihilating the black intrusion. Luna panted but immediately resumed spinning the metaphysical object. On the Imperial Sovereignty, a torn red portal arced across the length of the deck for an instant. The Imperial warrior reappeared in several locations as stretched and smeared features falling out of a red mist. Blood, entrails, and bits of equipment spilled onto the armored floor. The General grimaced. “It must be Nightmare Moon herself,” he concluded. He coldly considered the blood on his hoof. “Pull the fleet back out of range,” he ordered, “and clean the explosives off my flagship.” The defeated commandoes dejectedly began to sweep up their leader’s remains along with his dangerous cargo. The blinding effect was wearing off and the Rough Riders were free to fight as they pleased under the Lunar magician’s protection. To the right, Solar soldiers charged out around the wreck. An enemy “shield horn” led another column of troops towards them from the left. The Rough Riders fired their rifles into the unprotected ponies to their right. The mustachioed machine gunner beside Applejack let loose a devastating stream of lead that temporarily put a bloody stop to that charge. They turned their attention to the Solar soldiers led by the unicorn. The skilled magician deflected all of their fire and was almost upon them. One Solar marksman rested the barrel of an unusual weapon on the ruined tank and took careful aim. It was a SciMagic Works G3 “Even Justice” rifle: hoofmade with a heartchoke stock, enchanted smooth-bore silver barrel, and firing 50-caliber, sulfur-coated, dragon scale rounds. The sniper ignored the defensive enchantment and shot at the Lunar magician; as the projectile crossed the repulsive barrier, it merely glowed blue. The unicorn was hit in the middle of the chest and fell dead instantly. To the Rough Riders, it seemed that a dam had burst. With their protector killed, bullets poured in around them. The anti-tank soldier had stood his ground and reloaded, so he was now caught in the open and unprotected, and was immediately hit. The enemy magician was upon them, and the soldiers behind him fired down at them with impunity behind the magic shield. Unable to fight back, they hunkered in the trench until the unicorn reached them. The Solar soldiers ran up, eager to pounce on their cowering foes. Big MacIntosh sprang up with uncharacteristic speed and smashed the butt of his rifle into the surprised magician’s face before ducking back down. Applejack shot the unicorn before he could recover concentration on the protective spell. The Rough Riders took the signal to rise up and fight. The opposing soldiers fired frantically at each other at point blank range. The machinegun next to her again roared to life and took a heavy toll, but the enemy was already coming into their position. Applejack could barely chamber another round before a big colt was coming over the edge of the trench at her. She shot him in the chest, but far from center mass. It was enough to make the stallion drop his weapon but not enough to stop him. He jumped down on her, knocking her over backwards. He caught hold of her rifle and pressed down to crush her throat with it. She was almost gone when her comrade next to her drove his bayonet into her foe. She found herself trapped under the dead enemy, covered in his blood and gasping for breath. She could see the Rough Rider who saved her turn and fire his rifle. Another moment and a burst of submachine gun fire tore into him. He fell next to her. The machine gun to her other side fell silent. More Solars came over the edge and into the trenches around her. She closed her eyes and awaited death. Author's Note A sketch of the Imperial Sovereignty http://celestial-swordsman.deviantart.com/#/art/Imperial-Sovereignty-385026856?_sid=6818d1cd
ShellshockChapter 12 Applejack lay pinned under and among dead ponies, with enemies rushing around her. Gunfire and cries of pain filled the air. She rested her head on shell casings in a puddle of blood. She felt as if she had died. In the darkness, she could feign death, and no one would notice. Perhaps she could somehow survive the battle and live to take care of her little sister Applebloom. Then she remembered Luna. She remembered the Rough Riders she had recruited. She remembered her brother, somewhere near her. “The general was right,” she whispered, “I can’t give up.” She looked again at the body of the colt that trapped her there. The corpse couldn’t be as heavy as an apple tree; she could free herself. If she could, she had to. The determined major gathered herself and tried to heave the body off of herself. It only partially worked. She tried to squirm out from under the weight, and aided by the slippery blood, she was half free. She looked up at a pony who saw her struggling. The soldier raised a rifle to plunge his bayonet into her. Applejack fumbled for her revolver, but her hoof did not find it in time. Dirt burst out of the sides of the trench and her attacker folded over backwards as heavy impacts drummed all over the scene. Another warm weight toppled onto Applejack from the other direction. The silhouettes of more Solar troops showed over the edge of the trench but immediately sprawled backwards or added to the heap of death in the ditch. Before she knew what was happening, strong hooves pushed the limp equine mass off of her. A big red face asked, “Are you alive?” Big Macintosh leaned over a heavy machinegun to take hold of his sister. Applejack’s face lit up, surprised that they had both survived. She mustered an “Eeyup,” and he helped her to her hooves. The big stallion again lifted the machinegun like a small firearm. Smoke still flowed out of its barrel. The remaining Rough Riders as well as some members of the 5th Lunar who had come to their aid finished their counterattack and reoccupied the forward trench. Together with the soldiers shooting down from the wall of the Fastness, they had pushed back the first wave of enemies and remained in control of all the positions next to the fortress. Everything to the north was in enemy hooves. By the time reinforcements arrived they found it was they who were assaulting an entrenched enemy. Stragglers from the failed maneuver retreated through the fortifications towards the Fastness. While they could not retake lost ground, they had taken the momentum out of the Solar attack, preventing them from pressing the assault south towards Applejack and Big Mac. As the Solar Armada turned to withdraw, the 51st Pegasus “Mustangs” chased after them. The Lunar flyers spread out to survive the flack and closed into tighter formation as they came in amongst the airships. The flack guns held their fire rather than shoot through their attackers and hit their own vessels, but friendly fire was deemed an acceptable risk for the machine guns. Automatic gunfire flashed across the length of the warships as gunners struggled to track the quick pegasi. Griffins and some pegasi scrambled out of the ships to do battle in the air. At the flight leader’s signal the Mustangs gathered to the center of the enemy battle group and with a cheer of “Remember Cloudsdale!” they executed a synchronized weather maneuver. They streamed the air behind them and twisted around each other in a living vortex. For a brief moment they presented the perfect target for the machineguns and some of them dropped limply from the swirling column. When the pegasi spiraled away from the site, they left a roaring tornado. The sudden storm blew the fleet into confusion and delayed its retreat from the guns of the Fastness. The force of the wind wrenched off the rudder of a cruiser. The vessel drifted off course farther into the danger zone. A hit from the 18 inch guns rocked the ship, but it kept flying. The alarmed crew gained control and steered away from hostile airspace, but it was too late. The gunners in the fortress already had their range and another shell bored into the midsection of the cruiser. It struck the magazines, and the resulting secondary explosion blasted the ship in two. The airship’s gases ignited and the fore and aft sections dropped from the sky as separate fireballs, with the loss of all aboard. Their mission completed, the Mustangs again scattered to make for Lunar lines. The flight leader’s lieutenant caught sight of a target he could not pass up, and aimed for the Solar flagship on his way out of the formation. A griffin spotted him and chased after the pegasus. The flying eagle-beasts preferred to fight with their natural weapons, and so the pursuing griffin spread steel-enhanced talons as it closed in behind the lieutenant. It almost snatched him from the air, but the flight leader intervened and wounded it with a burst from his sub-machinegun. The griffin twisted away out of sight. “Don’t be crazy! Get out of here!” ordered the lead Mustang. “One more thing, and I’ll see you back home,” the lieutenant replied, and with a salute rolled away towards the Imperial Sovereignty. He plunged toward the Solar General on the deck below. He fired bursts from his automatic weapon at his golden target. The crew ducked away from the surprise strafing, but the armored general stood his ground. Sparks flew as bullets ricocheted similarly off the warship and the unicorn. Armor pulled the flyer down towards him with his bladed horn. The Mustang beat his wings to escape but could not break away. He was sucked down onto the glowing weapon. They collided, and with a toss of his head General disemboweled the flyer and flung him onto the deck behind. He blinked to push his foe’s blood out of his eye; red drops rolled across his cheek like angry tears. “Send a bomb hauler to the north and prepare to destroy Ponyville. When it’s in position, move the fleet back into range of the Fastness.” “Sir, how will that help? What about the guns?” the vice-admiral protested. “It will test her resolve,” he replied. “She’s only as secure as she allows herself to be. My Empress taught me the moon’s weakness, and I’ll grind my hoof on it.” The trenches were once again still and quiet. Soldiers had rejoined their units and the wounded had been carried behind the lines. Eyes and guns were now pointed to the north trenches, where they knew the enemy lurked. Applejack leaned on her brother’s side. Her once-golden coat was smeared with mud and coagulated blood. Only the mud showed on Big Macintosh because he was already red. He stood watch with his new machine gun. He didn’t look at his sister, but only remained strong and stoic. That was his way of comforting her, and it was working. A stir moved through the ranks; orders began to come in as units were rearranged to prepare for the next phase of battle. General Graywood gathered the intact companies just behind the new front line and readied them to retake the positions lost in the last attack. The 5th Lunar Regulars who had joined the Rough Riders in their trenches were among those called back to form the spearhead. They were replaced by the last-resort reserve troops such as the engineers, some of whom hadn’t been trained for combat. Pinkie Pie gingerly picked her way through the trench toward the Apples. Her mane and tail had been puffy like cotton candy, but now they were deflated. With her mane lying straight and limp, her helmet settled down over her face. She stared up at the metal rim rather than see what she was stepping on. A pistol dangled in her hoof, but she didn’t remember if it was hers and she wasn’t looking at it either. Finally seeing familiar ponies, she rushed up to Applejack and Big Mac, but stopped a few feet away. She was close enough to see her friends more clearly; but they were blood-spattered and fierce, and she withdrew a step. Applejack turned slowly and asked, “Pinkie Pie? Are you alright?” They looked each other in the eyes for a moment, each seeing the other differently than before. The part of Applejack’s mane not shaded from the moonlight by her crumpled hat reminded Pinkie Pie of strawberry shortcake; under other circumstances she would have said something cute about it. This time it was blonde and blood, so Pinkie looked away. Applejack produced a piece of candy and held it out to her friend, but Pinkie shook her head. She had already tossed the cookies she ate before the battle. Big Macintosh nudged Major Applejack to alert her of something to the north. She followed his gaze to a large figure that stepped out of the night onto exposed ground. “I can’t tell what it is,” she admitted. He agreed, but added, “It’s comin’ from a bad way,” and lined up his gun. The shadowy creature lurched toward them. As it got closer they could distinguish the form of a minotaur hobbling on an injured leg but keeping a steady pace. Applejack made out a blue bandolier and notified, “He’s one of ours.” He lurched closer. He snorted angrily and his oversized fist clenched a pistol tightly as if he would crush it. Pinkie Pie peeked over the edge of the trench and spoke uncertainly to the newcomer, “Mister Plinkers?” “Whoa,” Applejack cautioned as she noticed his eyes, which glowed and flickered unnaturally. “Somethin’s not right.” Another Rough Rider climbed out of cover to assist his comrade. The minotaur roared furiously and charged, firing several shots at the good Samaritan. The country soldier was wounded and fell; he would have been killed, but the brute’s rage prevented him from aiming his weapon effectively. Pinkie Pie jumped up and broke her silence, yelling, “Mister Plinkers! It’s me, Pinkie Pie!” The bull whirled to face her and roared again. “I threw you a party! Don’t you remember me?” Applejack pulled the pink one back down before the crazed minotaur shot more rounds in her direction. Big Mac had hesitated to see if Mr. Plinkers could be calmed, but now he fired a carefully measured burst into the attacker’s broad chest. The eerie light left the minotaur as he fell dead. Pinkie Pie jumped back up and rushed to where the big bull lay. “Don’t you remember, Mister Plinkers?” she pleaded with the corpse, “I threw you a party when you came through Ponyville. I was just going to bring cupcakes, but you said you wanted chocolate pie. You were right, it was amazing with extra sprinkles.” Applejack came to her side when she was satisfied that the injured Rough Rider was being tended to. “Messed up shit,” she could only conclude. “I’m sure he remembered you, Pinkie Pie, it’s that damn dark magic.” She led her friend back to the safety of the trench. Pinkie Pie looked up at Big Mac and whispered in disbelief, “You killed Mister Plinkers.” The big colt shook his head and gave a low, doleful, “Eeyup,” before resuming watch on the hostile horizon. The two mares stood silent as tears rolled over Pinkie’s face. Applejack leaned on her brother’s side as the tough cowgirl tried to hold herself together. Pinkie Pie leaned on Applejack. She glanced up at Big Mac, who slowly nodded his approval.
PrecipiceChapter 13 A spotter on the northern gun of Crescent Fastness alerted, “Barrage vessel heading to 12-84, I repeat, bomber headed to Ponyville! Light escort vessel covering with smoke screen.” In quick succession, lieutenants reported three urgent messages to Princess Luna: “Solar fleet and army are mobilizing to attack.” “Ponyville is about to be bombed.” “General Graywood is ready to commence the counterattack.” She attempted to remain calm and focused, but the protective orb quivered with her uncertainty as she heard one piece of unexpected news. “Why would they attack the town?” the Princess wondered aloud. “Shoot down the bomber with the north guns.” “Just after we sighted them, they obscured the craft with a smoke screen. We can try, but I don’t think we will stop it in time. Ponyville is so far forward of the line.” Indeed, Crescent Fastness was located much better to guard Ponyville Gap than the town itself. “They wanted us to see the ship first,” she said with certainty. She realized her gravest fear. “Do you mean they’re bluffing?” the lieutenant asked. “No. No, they will kill the inhabitants if they can. But we are supposed to stop them,” she clarified. “I am supposed to stop them.” “If that’s true, you can’t,” the Lunar officer declared. “You can’t fall into their trap. We’ll send someone else, maybe the Mustangs could--” The Princess cut him off, “No one else can stop them in time. I will go.” “We cannot let the Premier of the Republic endanger herself so recklessly,” the lieutenant declared boldly. “I won’t let you go.” The other two agreed but lacked the presumption to give orders to the supreme commander. She addressed two of her trusted magicians who had not left her side. “Halifax, come here. I have taught you this spell, and I think you are ready. Halifax, you must promise me you will hold this enchantment steady until I return. Sidayana, help him.” Halifax stepped forward and vowed, “With everything that I am, your majesty.” He bowed in concentration next to her, and when she turned away, the glistening sphere remained. She brushed past the desperate lieutenant, and answered him, “You can’t stop me. I would not be the Premier if I did not try.” She galloped out the back gate of the fortress and with a powerful beat of her wings she was gone into her native night sky. As the armored Princess took off, the Solar forces in the north trenches attacked. Luna swooped over them and caused lightning to strike a flame tank. The flamethrower burst into a fireball that claimed the crew of the vehicle and those advancing beside it. Infantry fired up at her, but she hid herself in darkness and continued north. The Lunar army was energized by the thought of being led into battle by the alicorn leader herself. General Graywood seized on the inspiration of the moment and ordered his troops to charge into the teeth of the enemy attack. The enemy reeled in shock and the tables were suddenly turned. The Rough Riders did their part, firing into the backs of the retreating foes while the stronger units chased after them. Applejack and Big Mac did their best to pin down the Solar troops who regained their defensive positions until the Lunar army was upon them. Then the Apples could only watch as their comrades blocked their view and carried the fight away through the dark trenches. Luna raced through the sky towards Ponyville, where the Solar bomb ship had almost reached its target. She could beat it there if she teleported, but she had a better idea. She beat her wings as fast as she could and reached out into the night around her with her magic. Her blue light showed above the landscape like a shooting star, and she pulled a torrent of black night essence in her wake. She shot past the destroyer that was escorting the bomber and billowing smoke to obscure it. The crew scarcely spotted her before she was out of their reach. The bomb hauler neared the edge of Ponyville and let the doors in the bottom of its bloated hull drop out of the way. Black steel dove out of the craft down towards the town, where the inhabitants thought they would be sheltered. More and more bombs flooded off the seemingly-endless racks of munitions as the ship pressed ahead to carry its destruction over all. Elemental forces balled around the warrior Princess as she streaked to intercept the deadly objects in their course to the ground. She extinguished her horn and released the ethereal torrent into the sheet of falling explosives. The bombs turned and spun as they were swept northward. Deafening thunder sounded as the incendiary ordinance impacted the outskirts of Ponyville. Fireballs leapt up across the sparsely-occupied countryside, casting the town in stark relief against the darkness. Luna was illuminated in the new light, a speck to challenge the looming vessel. The angry fires reflected on her armor and on her righteous indignation. The force of her magic waned even as the supply of bombs ran low. She glared up at the thwarted bomber and allowed the last bomb to fall past her. She rolled and chased it. She wrapped the bomb in a shimmering aura as she grabbed hold of it with her mind. She pulled up, slinging the projectile back up towards its source. It returned to the bomb bay as if time had rewound, but this time it detonated within the ship. The starboard engine belched flame as its supply of firefly dust reacted to the explosion. The airship listed and the crew struggled to control the fire, but it stayed airborne. She sensed a threat from the earth below and turned to meet it. It was a gunshot; she cast a repulsive spell to stop the bullet. The magic bullet merely glowed blue as it tore through her repulsive spell and her right wing. The wounded alicorn spun helplessly and twisted toward the ground. At the last minute, she stabilized herself and slowed her descent, landing lightly on hooves that could stand on clouds. Luna galloped south, ignoring the pain and the blood to rush back to her loyal soldiers. As the sounds of the fighting and the boom of the big guns filled the air in Crescent Fastness, Halifax held Luna’s shielding spell steady. The magical intruders returned, causing streaks of light to lash out from the orb. Halifax bent them back into it, but the turbulence of the sphere only multiplied under the metaphysical onslaught of the unseen enemy. Sidayana joined in, and working together they restored the shield to full integrity. They enjoyed a moment’s peace but remained wary. Suddenly the orb swelled in front of them and splayed into thrashing strips around a materializing shadow. They bent their concentration to cast out dark magic and repair the spell. As the darkness spread, red beams lashed out of it and disintegrated the white fragments of the orb. They were knocked backwards as their magic blew up in their face. Instead of the glistening sphere stood a triumphant Solar magician. The commando dropped his saddlebags and grinned at his success as he prepared to leave. He disappeared in a flash, leaving his opponents and the gun crews to gape in horror at the explosives on the floor. Halifax glanced at his partner before leaping to his hooves and snatching up the bomb. He teleported away, chasing the trail of the intruder through the magical dimensions. Sidayana cried after him but he was already gone. The garrison saw that the fortress was no longer secure and readied their guns to meet any further UNICROM incursion. Three more flashes lit up the interior of the battery. The guards struck down the commandos with bursts of automatic weapons. Two were killed instantly, but the third dropped his saddlebags. Bleeding from the neck and unable to teleport, he whimpered and trembled in fear. The explosives were detonated remotely. The infiltrator was vaporized in the explosions that blasted through the confined space. Shrapnel was contained by the partitions, but smoke filled the Fastness, blinding the defenders. Lights in the smoke betrayed the entrance of more saboteurs, and within seconds the fortress was full of chaos and destruction. After the last explosion, the survivors were left to feel their way through the haze to find the wounded and assess the battery’s prized guns. Twisted metal and ruined targeting equipment marked the end of Luna’s long guns. The center gun, along with its crew and Sidayana, had been saved by Halifax’s last deed; but only one other remained, and it could only face south. It was not enough to hold off the Imperial armada. The heavy warships sailed past the hills and over the plains and fixed their sights on the Lunar army below. General Graywood’s charge had almost dislodged the enemy from the north trenches when the second wave of Solar forces reached them. The most intense fighting yet erupted as the two attack groups met head-on. The tide of battle hung uncertainly; although outnumbered, Lunar troops were pushing their foes out of the trenches. If they could catch the advancing divisions in the open they might carry the day. At the Solar general’s orders, the fleet fired into the front of the fighting, where soldiers from both sides were still in hoof-to-hoof combat. Huge plumes of dirt burst up from the contested positions, deepening the chaos and carnage. The determined defenders persisted, but soon the earth seethed like a stormy sea as a sky-full of naval guns concentrated their power. Combat was replaced by survival. The relentless resolve to fight until the end evaporated as troops became aware of the fate of Crescent Fastness, which they fought to protect. Neither General Graywood nor Luna were to be seen, and Lunar troops fled in a panic. The whole of the Lunar army scattered at the orders of the lieutenant who assumed command. Big Macintosh, Applejack, and Pinkie Pie left with the rest of the Rough Riders. Shells from the air fleet chased routed soldiers until their location was uncertain. Defeated and dejected, the Lunar forces slipped into the night. Some wondered about the fate of their general. Reports said that he was slain by a unicorn wielding powerful dark magic. Other stories told that the brave general had defeated the magician and was instead killed by the shells from the Imperial fleet. Some held that their hero, true to his word, could not die or retreat, and must still be fighting somewhere in the north trenches.
Damage ControlChapter 14 Dusk and Trixie sat in the wagon on the hill and watched the battle unfold. “We should probably leave,” Trixie said. “Trixie didn’t survive this long by hanging around the war.” “I have to see it,” Dusk replied, “It’s all my fault.” The thunder of the guns rolled in from the flashing, fiery horizon. “Come on, you may have screwed up, but there’s no way you could screw up that bad,” Trixie tried to console, bluntly. Little Celestia cringed and whispered under her breath, “Oh yes I can.” Trixie took another swig of her prized cider and offered it to “Dusk”. Dusk attempted to relieve her conscience with the alcohol. “I thought it could be saved, but I guess Equestria is really coming to an end,” she said despairing. “Trixie will be there if it does,” the independent unicorn asserted. She wondered a moment, secretly surprised by her own statement. A sudden string of blasts behind them shook the ground. They turned to see Ponyville illuminated by fire, a Solar bomber bent on pounding it out of existence with bombs. “No! You can’t destroy Ponyville!” Trixie howled angrily at the airship, “They’re supposed to be humiliated, not dead!” Dusk caught sight of a flying figure that intervened between the ship and the town, and noticed that the vessel’s ordinance fell outside the most populated areas. “I don’t think they’re dead,” she reported with renewed interest in the world, setting aside the cider. She knew what happened when there was an explosion in the ship, and thought, “Nice one, sis. But what about the battle? They can’t win without you. Why would you risk defeat like that?” She gasped as the defending Princess stopped in midair and plunged to the ground. “Luna!” she yelled helplessly at the night. “What have I done?” No, it couldn’t be true. Her sister couldn’t die now. Celestia had spent all those years hating Luna, but now that she’d come to her senses she couldn’t accept that. “Wow,” Trixie marveled. Through her cynical and detached exterior, she was moved by what she had witnessed. “I’d like to see Celestia do that.” Dusk pulled away slightly, ashamed at the comparison. “That’s almost enough to make Trixie pick a side,” the performer continued. “Almost.” Galloping hooves approached them from the direction of the Lunar army. They turned to see a surprisingly small soldier asking, “Is it propelled?” The short mare stood on her hind legs to poke her face over the side of the wagon. She was white, and a hazel mane spilled out of her helmet to block one eye. The standard model rifle slung over her shoulder was ridiculously proportioned to its owner. “I’m NLR Private Pearl, I’ve got to get to Ponyville right away. Is this thing propelled? Does it go?” she requested urgently. “Trixie was saving that surprise for later,” Trixie complained. “Yeah, it goes.” Pearl jumped in beside them and said to Dusk, “Sorry Trixie, but ponies’ lives are at stake. Take us to Ponyville.” Trixie frowned and glanced into Dusk’s imploring eyes before actually deciding to cooperate. She looked over the side and used her mind to push away the blocks that held the wheels. She shoved aside some of her trinkets to grab a lever, and the show wagon lurched into motion. After a bumpy ride down the path off of the hill, they joined the main road into town. “There’s another airship coming,” the private explained, “we’ve got to get every pony out before more bombs hit.” They rolled into town where residents still holed up in their houses to ride out the storm. Trixie brought her show vehicle to a stop and turned on the track lights for her stage, which glowed conspicuously through the covering of the wagon. She pulled down the receiver for her loud speaker and shouted, “Ponyville will burn to the ground! Get your asses out here and run for your lives! You heard Trixie! Get the fuck out!” Pearl quipped to Dusk, “Trixie, your friend here has problems.” The private commandeered the microphone and calmly informed, “Sorry, but the town is in immediate danger. This is a Lunar Army notice to evacuate. Please exit the buildings and head west, calmly but quickly. Do not stop to collect your belongings. Thank you.” The second barrage ship was some distance away but steaming to its target at 30 knots. Confused citizens straggled out into the streets. “Please head west, which is that way,” Pearl repeated. Finally, all the ponies poured out of their hiding places, but some stubbornly dragged heavy goods with them. Ponies looking for a ride out were drawn to the brightly illuminated wagon. Pearl, still broadcasting, pushed a panicked colt back and issued notice, “This vehicle is for children and the elderly.” She added as she deflected more unwelcome cargo, “No, we will not take your sewing machine, or your whatever that is.” The first airship, damaged from Luna’s retaliation, was using almost all of its power to stay aloft and could only move out of the way slowly. The fresh bomb hauler had to slow down to avoid colliding with the other vessel, buying the evacuation precious time. With death treading the air toward them, Trixie got in the spirit of things and levitated a barrel and an old crate to the side of the wagon as makeshift stairs. At their parents’ direction, fillies hopped up the new stairs. Trixie tried not to think of the damage they might do to stage equipment. Pearl lifted a little pink pony up from a farmer’s arms. It was the filly who tried to protect the apple stand from Dusk’s thievery the day before. She pointed at the fruit bandit and said, “Hey! It’s you!” Dusk sweated at being pointed out and looked down the street in an attempt to ignore the situation. She saw a shriveled green mare stumbling aimlessly about, and took the opportunity to escape. She came up beside the confused old pony and offered, “Here, uh, granny, let me help. This way.” “How do you know mah name?” Granny Smith replied, squinting at her. The pegasus tugged at her front leg to lead her to the wagon. “Well, alright, calm down dear, I’m comin’,” Granny complained. As Dusk assisted her up the steps Granny thanked her, saying, “Bless you, you’re such a fine young colt, your daddy will be proud.” “I’m sorry about your eyesight,” Dusk muttered under her breath. None too soon, the last refugees were leaving and the last passenger was aboard the wagon. Pearl took up watch with her rifle on the back and shouted to Trixie, “Get us out of here!” The wagon rocked forwards on creaky wheels as the Solar ship loomed above and opened its bomb bays. A dark object slipped through the sky and thudded down on the east end of Ponyville. One after the other fell, tearing through wood, brick, and the eardrums of fleeing ponies. As the commandeered rescue vehicle crossed the edge of town, the path of destruction crossed Main Street, leveling the town hall and everything near it. Some of the fillies on board cried as they saw everything disappear. The bomber spared no ordinance and did not relent until it had reached the west end. The destruction was total. Private Pearl addressed the ponies huddled in the wagon, “I’m sorry about your town, but it’s not really gone, is it? It’s the ponies that make the town.” She elbowed Dusk and confided, “This is what it’s about.” “This is what I’m really here for,” she said, gesturing to the passengers, “not this stuff,” she added, shrugging her war gear. “It makes you feel good, doesn’t it?” “Yeah,” Dusk replied softly, surprised to note that it was better than alcohol.
Dark RescueChapter 15 Dusk looked back at the blasted and burning town. The repurposed stage wagon carried her and its cargo of refugees away from danger. At the prompting of a noble soldier, she had helped save a few lives, for a while. However, she had failed to stop the destruction, even with honesty. “Come on, wasn’t that the moral of the story?” she thought. Why didn’t they believe her? She realized now that a better question would be “Why would they believe me?” The dispossessed ruler’s only idea to save Equestria was to appeal to her still-powerful sister. Now that had fallen flat, and hope for the future seemed vain. The doldrums of Dusk’s mind were sharply interrupted when another wisp of green magic floated out of the night in front of her. She quickly willed it away, and it obediently swirled into itself and disappeared. That was little consolation though; it had still found her. She looked at the soldier. Pearl had seen it, and quizzed her curiously, “Girl, are you charmed? I never got my own shooting star thing before.” Dusk was uncertain how to answer, but shook her head. “What’s wrong?” Pearl asked, but looked up from the conversation at the sound of flapping wings. Two pegasus warriors were flying by to the left. They had flown quietly and were quite close already as they swooped by to investigate. The private hailed, “Hey, flyboys! What took you so long? We could have used the help a few minutes ago.” They could now make out the fliers’ glowing green night-vision goggles and flack vests. The colorful mane and tail of the nearest pegasus stood out most of all. For half a second, orange light from the Ponyville inferno reflected across a glistening emblem on her vest. It was a golden circle hemmed with swirling arms: the blazing sun. With a start, Dusk realized that she recognized the pony: it was Captain Rainbow Dash. Pearl’s kindly demeanor evaporated into shock. “Solars!” she gasped, and hastily slung her rifle in front of her. She hunched over her long weapon, leaning her eye that was unobstructed by hair against the barrel. Dusk hunkered down as the private took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. Their ears rang and startled screams came from the back of the wagon. Dash dodged about in the air, and the bullet was lost in the night. Pearl stammered, “Omygoshomygosh, work, stupid thing,” as she took cover and strained on the bolt of the rifle. Trixie disappeared in a pile of her things. Captain Dash flew straight and level, keeping pace with them, presenting a clear target. Pearl successfully chambered the round and got up to take another shot. Dusk looked up from where she was hiding and saw a ripple of flashes from the other side of the road. There was a low clatter and Pearl gave weak sigh instead of a cry. Dusk’s gray coat was painted with red that burst out of her protector’s side from a dozen holes. The private flopped down in front of her, staring with empty eyes. Looking over the body she saw a third Solar Scout holding a sub machine gun whose silencer vented a thin trail of smoke. He had snuck up from the other direction, and he flashed a smile for having fooled the enemy. He was orange with a black mane that melted into the night. The colt hefted his clip and frowned at it; there weren’t enough bullets to finish the job. He swooped to the side and blasted the remaining rounds haphazardly into the workings of the rickety vehicle. It clanged and huffed, but kept moving. He let himself lag behind while he fitted the next clip. Dusk knew what was going to happen; they were only here for one reason. They were here for her, and they would leave no one to tell the tale. What could she do? She couldn’t save the others even if she gave herself up. She looked to Trixie for direction, but the unicorn performer seemed to have abandoned her. “All her tough talk was an act,” Dusk thought, feeling betrayed and alone. She grabbed the rifle in front of her and struggled to pull it out from under the fallen pony. Gripping it desperately, she raised herself up to face the coming attack. They were already there. Rainbow Dash grabbed Dusk in one hoof and the rifle in the other. The two other commandoes pushed their automatic weapons past Dusk to keep her out of their field of fire while they took care of anything else that moved. A strange assortment of pops, bangs, and whines that couldn’t have been gunshots filled the air. The Solar Scouts were lit in neon colors in front of her for a split second before she was swallowed up by a wave of sparks, smoke, and fiery projectiles. They retreated from the bizarre explosion, coughing and cursing. Dash let go of Dusk but took the rifle with her and let it drop onto the road behind them. When the wind blew the smoke out of the window, Dusk saw Trixie standing resolute with an empty and burning box of firecrackers. The reluctant heroine tossed the flaming package overboard and snatched up a small pouch. “Trixie is going to do a magic trick,” she announced. “Do what Trixie says, and she will make you disappear.” She rushed to the back of the wagon and motioned for the huddled passengers to join her. “When Trixie tells you, jump off, fall off, or get thrown off. It’ll hurt but you’ll live.” She took a small black ball from the sack and ordered to Dusk, “Make sure they get off.” Dash’s squad realized the threat was phony and returned to finish the job. Before they caught up, Trixie threw down the little black smoke bomb and shouted, “Now!” She swirled around and tossed a crying filly into a clump of bushes by the road. Dusk and the others looked at her. “What happened?” she demanded. “Ugh, just be ready this time,” she said, already taking out another ball from the sack. At the next obscuring explosion, an old gentlecolt fell clumsily over the low rail. Dusk said, “Sorry,” and tossed the apple vendor’s daughter to the roadside. The pursuers watched unimpressed as the wagon vanished into a puff of smoke and reappeared on the other side. “Lame,” Dash jeered, before thinking again. “Is she still on?” The second Solar flier held up a scope which tracked Celestia’s signal and reported “Yes, Captain.” “Let’s finish them,” the grizzled, black-maned soldier urged, brandishing his weapon. “Hold on Zeze, we’ll take them down when we can see,” Dash ordered. “They’ll run out soon.” A few smokes later and the mad little operation was almost complete. At the next obscuring puff, Trixie assisted a confused Granny Smith into a nasty tumble. Trixie and Dusk winced. The unicorn returned to the controls and steered around the turn in the road. The wagon creaked and clanged louder as the damaged machine choked on its own parts. Trixie held up another black firecracker and indicated, “Last one. Your turn.” “What about you?” Dusk begged. “Why would you do that for me?” “This is bigger than Trixie, isn’t it?” the unicorn said with acceptance. “Go!” Another pop behind the wagon, and Trixie shoved Dusk out the back. The tiny alicorn thudded painfully to the ground, but she turned to see her friend leave. Trixie bowed as her crippled vehicle limped a few hundred yards down the road and stalled. The soldiers swooped in for the kill. Dusk mustered herself to her hooves, determined to keep Trixie from sacrificing herself. She ran out from behind the smoke and into view, shouting, “Hey, over here!” The squad paused in the air and studied the reappeared pony. She reared up and barked, “I’m fucking Celestia and I order you to chase me!” She darted off the road and tried to lose herself in the wilderness. “That’s her! Get her now!” Dash commanded and streaked after her target. Dusk rushed into a forest to evade them like she had the apple vendor. She scraped through the undergrowth and strained her eyes into her dark new environment to pick out the best path. Her large eyes adjusted and guided her through. When she found the space she flapped her wings to gain speed. She wondered at her impulsive deed, thinking, “Why did I do that? I can’t let them take me. They’ll take me back to the ponies I put in power, ponies who want me back the way I was.” She had changed, not completely, but enough to know that she couldn’t bear to be that way again. That was why she had kept her secret in Canterlot. She almost thought she was safe when she caught sight of Rainbow Dash running behind her, tracking her with those green night vision goggles. The racing champion-turned-soldier easily overtook her, and came up beside her and to grab her or knock her over. Dusk dodged away to put trees in between them when she could. When she looked again beside her, she saw nothing. Captain Dash abruptly loomed up ahead of her, steadied and ready to stop her dead in her tracks. Dusk turned sharply and sprinted through difficult tangles with desperate abandon. The rainbow flier cut her off again, and once again she veered away. The dogged blue pegasus blocked her path a third time. Dusk turned to run but stopped when she saw that her good soldier wasn’t moving. She welcomed the chance to regain her breath, but couldn’t fathom what her pursuer was doing. Rainbow Dash flipped up her night vision goggles to stare at Dusk with her own eyes, revealing a menacing scar on her face. She growled, “I don’t have time for this.” She slid a serrated combat knife out of its sheath on her vest. She planted the blade in the ground and stepped back several paces until she was just as far away from it as Dusk was. It was a fair competition, a winner-takes-all, five-yard race. The diminutive grey pony studied the forest and then the knife, calculating her best move. She was obviously not outrunning Rainbow Dash. Perhaps the champion racer and elite soldier had grown overconfident. Perhaps she didn’t realize that Dusk had regained some magic ability. Dusk tried to remember all of Celestia’s fights over the years, but realized she may have lost the knack along with some other parts of her old self. She sprang for the weapon at the same time that she drew it towards herself with her limited magical power, thus beating Dash for control of the blade. The only problem with that assessment was that Dash stood unflinching. She didn’t even try to get the knife. Dusk charged headlong at her and stabbed at her forcefully. Captain Dash dodged sideways, putting her hooves up to deflect the strike and twist Dusk’s foreleg. Dusk was overcome by a painful spasm that caused her to unwittingly drop the blade. In the same smooth movement, Dash pulled Dusk past herself, using Dusk’s momentum to hurl her onto her side. The uncompromising warrior kicked with her back leg, pounding her hoof up from under Dusk’s rib cage to fully incapacitate her. The martial arts of the elite Solar Scouts dictated that at this point Dash should snap the neck of a knife-wielding attacker. Dash stood over her and held her down, consciously omitting this last step. Sensing her captive go limp in surrender, Dash let her breathe and called the other soldiers to their position. Major Zeze Snaps dropped lightly to the ground beside them. Some moments later the other scout arrived. His shouldered weapon caught in a bramble but he forced through it, dragging the plant behind him onto the scene. He stood panting and gawked at Dusk, wondering if she could really be such a high-level target. Zeze cut him a sideways glance before refocusing intensely on Rainbow Dash. The air captain put up a hoof and gestured to return to base. “We have what we came here for, let’s go,” she ordered. “We didn’t finish our objectives,” Zeze contended. “We should hunt down those ponies back there. Every pony with the target is also a target.” Dash repeated sternly, “I said, let’s go. There was only one soldier, the rest looked like civilians. They probably don’t know anything.” “Rainbow Dash,” Zeze argued, intentionally ignoring rank, “Are you getting sentimental? We don’t shirk orders.” Captain Dash glared straight through her subordinate’s goggles and declared conclusively, “WE GO, Major. This one’s our priority. We already made a lot of noise, and Lunar troops are bound to react. If we don’t take her back now we might not meet ANY objectives.” Dash grabbed her knife and sheathed it forcefully. “Don’t question me again.” They collected Dusk and carried her away just above the treetops. They headed back east, toward Canterlot.
DisciplesChapter 16 After a tense ride at gunpoint in the back of a covered sky carriage, Dusk was delivered to a secure site in Canterlot. She was hastily ushered out of the carriage and into a doorway. As she walked between protective rows of security officers, she could make out the courtyard of the Royal Magic Academy. She could tell by the shade of the sky, that it was still dusk. Moreover, she could feel the sunken sun, and somewhere above it, the moon. “Luna must be alive,” she thought hopefully. “For now,” she reconsidered. Out beyond the western horizon, her sister was defeated, wounded, and hunted. Clearances were exchanged before she was allowed past the reinforced gate of the Academy’s research division. The branch started out as independent research, but over time had become the crown’s best facility for the development of its own magic, which was often weaponized. The guards pushed her into a dimly lit library, where a number of significant figures were gathered. Sci/magic analysts in white coats discussed and debated the particulars of the problem at hoof with Doctor Twilight Sparkle, one of the head researchers at the Academy. The purple unicorn wore a formal blue magician’s cloak. She balanced her attention between the two analysts and her spell books, using their data to refine the parameters of the magic required. After the destruction of Crescent Fastness, General Armor had rushed back from the front to oversee this matter personally. The other commanders would be sufficient to push through to the rest of the New Lunar Republic now that its principal line of defense had been breached. Now he listened with only some comprehension as the experts debated the merits of active versus inactive substituent for trans-conscious temporal reversal. It was not his usual type of magic. “I just don’t see how such a regeneration can be powered without animated substituents,” one scientist argued. “Now that I’ve reached deeper levels of the sub-ether, I don’t think power will be a problem,” Twilight rebutted. “What I’m worried about is control. Involving more minds, even simple minds, can disrupt a psionic spell slightly. The natural intelligence of dark magic should help to steer the process, but I was hoping to reserve that to counter the resistance of the subject.” Armor interrupted, wondering, “Why would she resist? We’re going to make her great again!” “Oh, the subject will certainly resist,” the analysts agreed. “We indexed the soul strains in the ichor and proto-matter from her body that was left behind at the palace. The substances lost are so high in particular psycho-ethical manifestations that some personality characteristics may have changed. The subject is still basically self-equivalent, but is imbalanced and may perceive things differently. Since the consciousness is not entirely identical to the original, some conflict is necessary to make a resolution.” Twilight noticed her brother growing frustrated with the obscuring jargon, so she translated roughly, “She’s confused and might not remember who she is. That would make it seem like a mental invasion.” “General, here is the target of Operation Starcatch,” the guard next to Dusk interjected. Although the conversation was of great importance to Dusk, she had only partially been paying attention to what was being said. Her mind raced to find a way to deal with two unicorns with whom she had a complicated past. The researchers and the General turned to study her lesser incarnation. Under his golden mask, the General gave her an empty stare as if his eyes were desperately hungry for more than he was seeing. The product of a noble family of Canterlot, Shining Armor was a gifted student at the military academies. A shield was his cutie mark; he had a knack for defensive magic and a strategic mind. He had risen quickly through the ranks. Celestia had first noticed Twilight Sparkle, but soon discovered her brother as well. She had been grooming the two of them for some time to suit the roles she wished for them. A few years ago, she had moved Twilight to continue her research in the country; they were easier to manipulate when they were separated than when they were together. At the previous General’s death, the experienced officers expected one of them would be appointed. Celestia, however, was looking for someone more malleable. She had watched Shining Armor’s progress, and picked him out from the other contenders in her mind. He was strong, intelligent, and best of all, he was a true believer. While the politicians and high command outwardly accepted her pretense as a goddess, they were close enough to be familiar with her limitations and her indecorous lifestyle. Celestia secretly appeared to him at night and told him he had an incredible destiny by her side that neither the other officers nor his sister would understand; then she put him back to sleep, leaving him to think it was a dream. She snuck him special looks from the stage when he came to worship at the Cathedral of the Sun. His obsession with her rose beyond that of the clergy as he drank in more of her surreptitious attention. She was pleased to see that he tried to hide this from his sister. One night, the Princess was bored and impatient. She appeared to him again, and this time told him he was a powerful being called General. She claimed she loved him, and they mated. She vanished again; the next day he was formally promoted. General Armor, as he would only be called, did excel in command, but he was not yet as ruthless as she had hoped. He continued to rendezvous with his divine succubus in the palace, but she became increasingly abusive. Already psychologically dependent on her, he quietly endured her seductive tortures. To finish her sibling projects, Celestia staged a Lunar assassination attempt in Canterlot which resulted in the death of their mother. Celestia did not allow the stallion to grieve; adding guilt to pain, she reminded him that he was her General and that he was no longer part of that family. She communicated how he was to express his feelings by having his brilliant armor nailed into his skin, never to be removed. The embossed chevrons of his rank replaced his cutie mark permanently. She grew cold to him. He found the back way into the palace blocked to him as she pursued other lovers. Then her masterpiece was complete. He conflated his personal desires with what she demanded of him. As a desperate lover, he needed to win back her favor. As a slighted warrior, he had to prove his strength. The son and the sun worshiper found no purpose but vengeance upon the murderers and heretics. All of his mind and his being became bent upon killing Luna and destroying her republic. Celestia could finally relax again, knowing that if anything could be done to undermine or threaten her sister, it was already being done. Twilight Sparkle’s gaze was much different, as was her memory of Celestia. Her face showed not surprise, but rather the demeanor of a doctor assuring a patient that they can be treated. She was professional, but her eyes betrayed her excitement and perhaps hope. If she was successful she would surely receive official recognition and her mentor’s praise. Celestia had found it expedient to keep up her benevolent public persona around her magical disciple. Having known the ruler as a kind master through her youth, Twilight trusted her own experience more than anything negative she heard about her mentor. Her cloistered academic lifestyle made it easier to maintain her illusion. After the incident with the Elements of Harmony, Celestia found her more necessary but also more harmonious. The ruler-magician was forced to learn how to keep her promising student happy from Twilight’s reports on friendship. To the empress’s chagrin, the hailed “magic of friendship” failed to produce any more results that could be used to defeat her enemies. When the useless friendships were split by the first war, Celestia transferred her to military research in Canterlot. It was about that time that Twilight’s mother was killed. Celestia allowed her to grieve her mother’s death, but not have full closure, hinting that she could attempt to communicate with the departed soul through dark magic. In time, the young magician came to realize that she would not be able to get her mother back, but she had already crossed the line. It became difficult for her to connect to her remaining friends, because she was ashamed of what she had done in the laboratory. That meant the only place left for her was to continue her studies in a military direction. The dark magic she developed was passed on to combat magicians and also served to counteract the effects of the Elements on her heart. It was an unusual sight to see them together. They were to some measure estranged. “Dusk” quickly wondered how she would speak to both of them. General Armor would not, of course, mention their twisted romance, but he would wish to hear from her as the cruel empress. Twilight’s delusion was of a reluctant ruler who did what she had to do to protect her ponies. She could simply maintain her public persona and the General would probably be complicit as usual. The real problem was that no pony there would tolerate what she really wanted to say: “Do not make me the same way again.” She had predicted that they would try to fix her with magic. She had hoped that their efforts would be limited to restoring her body or magical abilities, but she knew from their talk of “resolving” her consciousness that they aimed to reset her mind to its previous state. She could pretend that they had made a mistake, and that she was not Celestia. She could hear herself now: “I’m not Celestia, I’m just some alicorn you found while tracking her.” She could not afford to lie so poorly. Neither could she tell the truth. She could perhaps navigate a conversation with her disparate pupils, but only as long as she didn’t say anything useful. She therefore committed to her only remaining option. General approached and bid the guards leave. He towered over Dusk with his head high, and glared down disapprovingly. “Are you sure it’s her?” he demanded as if cheated. Dusk stiffened herself rather than cower away to avoid angering him further. “That’s definitely Celestia, or what’s left of her,” Twilight assured. An analyst added, “With the amount of proto-matter we recovered at the scene of the incident I’m surprised she’s not smaller.” Wary of insulting his idol of pain and pleasure, General bowed and said, “Forgive me, your Highness.” He boasted, “I’ve almost destroyed the Republic. Soon Nightmare Moon will die, and you will rule all that is rightfully yours.” Twilight considered her brother as he spoke. He glanced sideways to see her approval, but she avoided his eyes and turned to the subject. Dusk stared up at them blankly. Twilight posed a pressing question, “What happened to you? Did you see who did it?” Dusk remained silent. “Can you understand us?” Twilight continued. After a sufficient wait an analyst put in, “It’s possible that she can’t speak or hear normally.” General Armor was severely disappointed. He had waited so eagerly to tell her that this seemed a further insult. He straightened up and forced a stoic calm. He had waited years already, and would not have to wait much longer. “Come on,” Doctor Sparkle said and motioned expressively. Dusk followed obediently and all moved into an adjoining chamber. The new space was better lit, with lamps around the walls. There were fewer bookshelves; the purpose of the room lay in the center. A raised dais overlooked an elliptical basin that was hollowed out of the floor. The still water of the shallow pool surrounded another pony-sized platform. A baby dragon, as purple as his master, carried a silver pitcher across the chamber. He tipped it so that its gargoyle-mouth spout disgorged the last measure of liquid into the offering pool. He put the pitcher away and met the distinguished company back at the pool, where he waited at attention. He pushed out his chest and folded his hands, as if they had come to praise him for accomplishing some marvelous task. Twilight almost rolled her eyes; he was never so formal when they were doing research. It was better to recognize him than to deal with domestic discipline in front of the General and perhaps Celestia herself. “Thank you, Spike.” The dragon gave a slight bow before his attention finally came off of himself. He scanned the ponies a few times as if one was missing. Spike cocked his head at Dusk and asked, “That’s her?” “Yeah, we know,” Twilight replied offhand. “We will be using unconscious offerings. Fetch the morninglight incense to begin with.” Her assistant ascended a narrow staircase that circled the wall and gave access to a level of cabinets set into the wall. He brought down a lacquer dish full of golden-brown powder and set it by the rim of the offering pool. The old spell book provided full instructions, including the necessary ingredients, but only for performing the operation on a normal pony. “These are clearly insufficient amounts,” the analysts expressed. Twilight agreed, “We also need more refined substituents to restore a Princess of her caliber.” Spike retrieved various items from the stores as requested: nard, white roses, flour, gold, gems, and a few wholesome vegetables were laid around the offering pool. This continued until it was hemmed in with items pure and precious. Lastly, Spike poured in a black pitcher of fresh equine blood several times, to activate the pool. It rippled and then stilled, waiting to be alive.
Dark MagicChapter 17 As preparations for the ritual were being made, Dusk could not shake the question she had been asked. “What happened to me?” she wondered. She reviewed the memory of the last sunrise again. In excruciating pain, Celestia had been ripped apart from the inside. She shrank away from the light, humiliated, and all of her strength and glory fell away from her and splattered around her. “Who did this to me?” The sun itself had seemed to betray her, and as the soupy flesh and pieces of her soul slipped off of her remaining form, the piercing rays ignited on her skin. She was quickly free of its grip as the terrible light fell back to where it came, and she raced to the bath to extinguish her burning body. The fire on the outside was put out, but now she considered her shedding of ash and the embers that tormented her inside. She was still slowly burning alive. “I’m dying!” she realized with a start. The sun was not solely responsible for her condition; she had been haunted for days. Whatever had struck her on the balcony had been building inside her for some time. All of her cherished pride, hatred, and lust had turned to self-loathing, regret, and despair. She knew herself a thousand years long enough to know that those were not her natural thoughts; from whom they had come and gained such fatal power she could not tell. She certainly did not think her sister was capable of such subtle and potent magic, nor had she felt Luna’s presence. Certainly if she had done it, she should have been better prepared for war. Moreover, she obviously wanted the sun in the sky, and spent her time counteracting her own darkness. The offerings were gathered and Spike drew up quietly beside the General, who was still staring at Dusk as if it was a form of meditation. The little dragon snuck a finger onto the golden armor and passed it over an indentation from a bullet. “Badass,” he muttered. Twilight ordered, “It’s time for all of you to leave.” “I want to be here when she comes back,” General Armor protested. “I need to introduce the shadow sprite to the subject,” Doctor Sparkle explained. “If you would like to be chosen, you could stay, but I suggest you leave me to my work,” she threatened. “You can join me before I start the main spell.” Spike and the analysts already understood, and gladly retreated. General Armor waited almost awkwardly until the others had left. “Take care of yourself, Twily.” She froze. She had wanted a sign of concern or care from him, but he had picked a fine time. “If you are worried about losing me to the shadows, you’re about a year late.” He seemed as though he would reply, as though it would be important; but he didn’t. Dusk knew he could say the same thing back to her, but only if he had come to terms with himself. On his way out, he stepped in between the magician and Dusk. Blocked from Twilight’s view, he tapped his bladed horn on that of the tiny alicorn and whispered insistently to Celestia, “I need you. But if you can hear anything, remember this: you need me.” Dusk couldn’t help flinching away slightly from the contact. As he moved on and the doors were sealed, she was greatly relieved that she was left alone with Twilight and not him. Her student beckoned to the middle of the offering pool. Dusk obliged as she began to grasp the opportunity the situation afforded. She waded uncomfortably through the cold water and took her seat facing the enchanter’s dais. She was now in an appointment with Twilight and only Twilight. If there was any sympathy to be had, it would be from her. The magician looked to each lamp on the wall and extinguished it until full blackness covered the room. She sat and communed with esoteric forces, murmuring foreign phrases. The vocalizations were not for the benefit of outside listeners but because the conversation inside was so fervent that it was not wholly contained. Twilight projected an eerie, half-visible glow. Dusk sat and bowed her head meekly. “Twilight Sparkle,” she whispered sweetly. Twilight fell silent and opened her eyes. That was exactly what she hoped to hear, said just that way, but she had thought to hear it after her work was completed. “It’s me Twilight,” Dusk whispered again. Twilight matched her low tone, but could not help a small exclamation. “Celestia! I’m here, I’ll take care of you.” “Of course you will,” the little one said, striving for her old mellifluous voice through her scratchy throat. “Do you trust me?” “Of course, Celestia, I always have,” Twilight assured. “Please do one thing for me,” Dusk asked of her faithful student. “Anything,” Twilight replied automatically, but experience cautioned her. Dusk looked up and met her friend’s gaze. “Please heal my body and restore my magic, just don’t change my mind,” she requested urgently. Doctor Sparkle objected, “But Princess, your consciousness is the gateway to the rest of you, that’s just how it works. What was wrong with you before?” Dusk ignored the charged question and pressed further. She drooped her ears and concluded wistfully, “Then don’t change me at all.” “Why not?” the magician inquired. “What was wrong with you before?” she demanded firmly. Dusk lowered her head again and confessed, “Everything. I was horrible.” Doctor Sparkle’s purple brow furrowed as her suspicions were realized. “Now, Celestia,” she rebuked, “you are obviously confused. I don’t know what they did to you, but they must have filled your head with lies. Nightmare Moon herself might have corrupted you with her deceiving influence.” Frustrated by her own myths, Dusk corrected in her own voice, “There is no Nightmare Moon. You defeated her! You should know better.” Twilight raised her eyebrows and accused, “There you are, impostor spirit. That is exactly why I will fix your mind. If you’re not our Celestia, you’re not our Princess.” “No! Please stop!” Dusk pleaded. “I’m not your Celestia. I’m Dusk, I’m different. Please, don’t—“ she fumbled for an expression for her threatened identity, “—kill me.” Twilight brushed off the appeal, “Nonsense, I’m going to make you better. Now be quiet and let me introduce you.” The magician plunged back into her summoning spell. The eerie glow collected around the dark practitioner’s horn. As she cast a pink light around it, her own energy merged with jagged bands of black light. Doctor Sparkle kept careful hold of the unnatural plasma as she rose to her hooves. She leaned forward and released a bolt of dark lighting. The sprite slithered through the air and circled Dusk. As it came back around in front of her, it plunged into her eyes. She gave a startled yelp as the icy presence coursed through her body. Her muscles seized up as the agonizing frost explored her flesh. It crept back up her spine and pooled in her brain, where it ripped open all of her memories. Flashing images called forth emotions as the thing studied the ill humors that she had only partially lost. She almost collapsed forward as it rushed out of her and returned to the magician who had called it. “That was quick,” Doctor Sparkle remarked. “Have you met before?” Dusk growled at her tormentor until the pieces of malice left behind from the thing’s inquest could be returned to their home in her subconscious. They did, however, give her an idea. “Fuck sympathy!” she thought. “It’s time to give her a preview.” Suddenly assertive, she leaned toward Twilight and spread her wings behind her. “So you want Celestia back, do you?” she demanded loudly. Twilight was confused but unintimidated. “Do you want to make me proud?” the alicorn sneered. “I was always proud of you. I was proud that I tricked you so completely. You thought you were the do-gooder servant of a kind and gracious ruler, while I stalked you like a wolf. I’ve never seen a unicorn so smart and so blind. Your life was my best joke.” Twilight held her ground and returned a despising look. “All those years you researched friendship were so useless,” Dusk or Celestia continued. “It was so hard to pretend to be sad when all your pathetic friends left you—I wanted you for myself. I never let you fall in love. Did you think it was just coincidence that every colt that got interested in you disappeared? You are so gullible!” “Don’t talk about my friends,” Twilight warned. “Colts didn’t get interested in me anyway,” she retorted lamely before doubt entered her mind. “Not very much.” “What was I supposed to do with all that shit about kindness, generosity and stuff?” Dusk continued Celestia’s rant, “I burned every report you sent me.” Doctor Sparkle’s jaw dropped at the thought of losing years of research. “That’s not true, the Princess assured me—“ “I assured you that the ghost of your mother would make you feel better.” The gray one continued her aggressive confession, “Why do you really think I assigned you to dark magic? I was hoping some evil spirits could cure you of all that unbearable harmony. Sure enough, give you a budget and some time alone in the dark and soon you are killing on command.” “Don’t you dare mention my mother.” Twilight deflected, “Those test subjects were guilty of horrible crimes. We did what we had to do for Equestria.” She wondered why she was still listening to this decepticon. Dusk pushed further, “Of course they were guilty, guilty of displeasing me! Rationalization is the key to genocide, my little demon. Do you want Celestia? Celestia doesn’t want you. Did you like those special little touches? They’ll run out soon. I already realized you’re too powerful to risk getting you in bed like I did with most of my other appointments. You’re too powerful to live. After the war is over, I’ll put you through the rites of Kal Mortis and feast on your energy—that’s the only part of you I’m interested—“ Dusk was suddenly cut short. “SHUT UP!” Twilight screamed. She strangled Dusk with her mind and levitated her into the air. Twilight’s eyes filled up with crackling black energy. “Maybe I am cured of mercy,” she fumed in a distorted voice. Dusk frantically clawed at her throat as her dark disciple used every last ounce of restraint not to crush it completely. Twilight waited till Dusk was almost unconscious before dropping her back to the hard stone. Both of them gasped for breath; Twilight Sparkle cleared her eyes as she fought to repossess her own mind. “You’re lucky—“ she panted, “I need you alive.” They both recovered for a moment. “That’s Celestia,” Dusk wheezed, “if you bring her back…” “I’ll have some questions for her, but you...” Twilight lowered her horn at the limp subject, “You don’t talk.” Dusk tried to repeat her warning, but found her vocal cords immobilized. Twilight turned and walked to the door, where she signaled for her assistant. Spike slipped inside and closed the door behind him. “What happened to you?” he asked, equally surprised and concerned. “I had another episode,” she confessed. “Get me a small dose of the halicosis antidote.” Seeing a question on his face, she clarified, “Yes, the little blue pill.” “Are you sure you’re okay to go on with this?” Spike checked. “I’m fine,” she responded impatiently, “Just get me that blue pill. Don’t get Armor quite yet.” Spike was still doubtful, but nodded and was about to leave on errand. Twilight put out a hoof to stop him. She looked back at Dusk, who lay pleading with her eyes and mute lips. The little dragon was kept in suspense for a long moment. “Yeah?” he asked. Twilight whispered something in his ear. “Really?” he said, scratching his head. She nodded, and he promptly retired. He soon returned with precious cargo. She took the pill immediately. The second item was a tiny red gem which she hid on her person.
The VaultChapter 19 “Dusk” came to in the basement of the library. She whined and shuddered as she recalled the assault of her former identity. Spike called out, “Twilight, it worked! Nice to see you actually complete a spell.” “Hmph. Good thing I knew how to reverse the summoning. I always learn a spell forwards and backwards. That’s the mark of a true magician,” Doctor Sparkle retorted. “Let me see her,” she said as she approached her patient, checking vital signs. Dusk sobbed and looked up at Twilight, at first with fear, but after a moment she guessed that Twilight had saved her life. Her time with herself filled her with violation and shame. Twilight could only imagine how much pain she had just caused “the subject”. Twilight herself reeled with the blows on her own identity she had received from the day’s events. Her lifelong teacher and mentor had returned as, well, Molestia. How could she have been so blind for so long? She had turned her back on good friends and given so many parts of herself over to increasingly disturbed research. Her life’s work was a lie for a liar. “I can’t afford to think all this right now,” she told herself, and partially succeeded in compartmentalizing. She had a lot of practice. Still, she was very distraught with and for this tiny alicorn. They gazed at each other, longing for some kind of solace. Spike put in, “I think normal ponies would hug at this point.” Neither of them was used to hugging other ponies, and recent shocking events had only reinforced those barriers. Twilight held Dusk’s hoof. Or Celestia’s. Or whatever. They shared a few tears. After a polite wait, Spike alerted, “That’s okay, but we’ve really gotta move. When your best bro over there wakes up, he’s gonna be so pissed.” “Yeah, come on,” she said, helping Dusk up to her hooves. She turned to leave, but Dusk caught her. “Wait!” pleaded Dusk. “I—I can’t leave. Is there a way to turn me into—into a Princess without making me not… me? Some pony has to raise the sun.” “That was my only shot,” Twilight explained impatiently, “The Princess—you—she had me researching… not restoration spells.” She clarified, “Mostly destructive magic. Anyway, there’s nothing more in this library that can help. Maybe if we had a few months, but we have minutes.” “Would any magic artifacts help?” she suggested. “Not any of the ones I have access to, which is most of them,” Twilight returned, “maybe the most powerful relics in all of Equestria could help, but those are kept in a secret vault that only Celestia can open,” she replied sorrowfully. Dusk remained unmoved. Twilight recalculated, “Oh. Of course, um, can you get us into the Vault?” Dusk nodded, wincing at every reference to herself as Celestia, but only because it was true. She stumbled to the wall and examined the bookcases. She moved to one and started pushing on it feebly. Twilight intervened and shoved the shelf out of the way, but only a blank patch of wall was revealed. The student stepped back and waited on the master. Dusk attempted to use her magic but nothing came. She strained at it for a moment before panting and despairing of the attempt. “Let me help. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I can give you some of my magical energy,” she volunteered. “This might be a bit weird, but calm down,” Twilight warned all involved. She stood in front of Dusk. Leaning down to her, she gingerly touched the tip of her horn to Dusk’s stubby horn, bringing their faces uncomfortably close for two socially awkward ponies. Twilight blushed but started the spell. For unicorns, this might be considered an intimate gesture; it would definitely qualify as PDA. Light emanated from her horn and settled around her partner’s. “Yeah,” Twilight thought, “this isn’t something you usually do with a manifestation-of-part-of-a-trusted-mentor-who-actually-turned-out-to-be-a-psychopath, aka. a stranger.” Dusk was still crying a little, but started to smile. Could she help it if it felt good? Twilight blushed even more. “Hold it together, Twilight, just remain professional,” she almost begged herself. Her professional side was the only part of her that wasn’t totally freaking out about everything. She finished, and the only light that remained was a bright yellow glow on Dusk’s forehead. “That’s all I have right now,” Twilight sheepishly admitted, “I got pretty worn out with all those heavy-duty spells.” “Whoa,” Spike interjected, still staring. “Very ‘dear Princess Celestia’,” he insinuated, to Twilight’s chagrin. Dusk was still smiling. Twilight pulled away and glared at her assistant. “Oh, hey,” he put his hand out and offered, “what happens in the library stays in the library.” “Just please tell me you can do it,” she implored the reenergized alicorn. Dusk nodded and concentrated her newfound strength on the wall, which shimmered before disintegrating around a door that seemed to burst into existence. Another spell and symbols on the door glowed, and it swung open. “I don’t get it. I checked everywhere for hidden entrances! There’s no way this has been here all along,” Miss Sparkle exclaimed, losing some of her self-assurance. She had always believed she knew everything there was to know about her library. “I mean, way to go,” she corrected. “It wasn’t here,” Dusk revealed, before lowering her head and looking away. She was finally bashful after proving her worth as Celestia. Spike hadn’t taken them seriously at first, but now marveled, “Whoa, we’re actually going to THE secret Vault of Wonders?” The door opened only to black. Dusk walked in unhesitating. Twilight took in the library for a moment before following. After Spike also entered, the door closed itself. The little dragon smacked into something warm. “Twilight!” he complained, “Give us a little light, will ya?” She gulped and whispered back, “I’m COMPLETELY used up. I never let that happen.” A gleam of yellow illuminated Dusk’s face up ahead, urging, “Come on!” The colleagues hurried ahead to catch up with their guide, who easily navigated the familiar passage. They stepped into a large chamber. At Dusk’s signal, a great glass sun shone out from the wall and revealed sights unseen to Equestria. Enchanted artifacts were mounted on pedestals throughout the room. Some were grand, beautiful, or threatening, and seemed as though they should feature in vaults of their own. Green orbs swirled silently through the water in a silver basin. A daunting, unidentifiable mask brooded with a dim red behind its eyes. A huge sword with a winged emblem as its hilt hummed on its mount. Others appeared less impressive. A small plant put out flowers of every color. One case even seemed to be empty. Twilight was transfixed marveling at the legendary magic around her. “What is this about?” Spike said as he reached curiously into the vacant case. Dusk gave a cry and sprang towards the little dragon. He pulled back and reacted, “Geez, what’s the big deal?” Twilight cautioned, “Remember, Spike, these relics are here because they are too precious or too deadly for the outside world to handle.” Dusk breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m just glad he didn’t—That an incident has been avoided.” She glanced timidly towards a fabulous display before retreating to the other side of the room. The dragon noted her reaction and fixed his eyes on the rich sight she had fled from. “The Elements of Harmony!” Spike exclaimed. He ran towards the brilliant jewels, whose sensuous beauty was matched only by their metaphysical benevolence. He stopped in front of the golden stand and reached out to touch Loyalty. “It looks…delicious.” “Hold it, dragonborn,” Twilight scolded and yanked him back by his tail. “You’ve been a good assistant and a good friend, but if you eat the Elements of Harmony, I’m going to use every spell in the Hoxsur Anguis on you.” “I wasn’t actually gonna eat ‘em,” he complained. “In fact, I was about to suggest we use their power to fix Celestia.” “Of course!” Twilight burst out, “I still remember when we used the elements to transform Nightmare Moon back into Luna. This has to be the answer.” A rare smile broke on her face; she was content that the puzzle was solved, and being with her own element made her feel somehow fulfilled. It brought up the memories that were actually good, of times of peace and friendship. “It wouldn’t work,” Dusk interrupted from behind a pillar. Still hiding from the virtuous elements, Celestia shared her story. “When I first met the Elements, I thought they were mine like everything else. But when I touched them, it hurt so bad. They were so powerful and good, and I was so bad. They terrified me, so I hid them. When Nightmare Moon attacked me, I reached for the worst thing I could think of to fight her with. I used the Elements against her. They wouldn’t let me hurt her like I wanted, so I made them send her to the moon. They almost backfired. It was only for a bit, but I could tell they could have destroyed me. I could never go near them again. That’s why I used you and your friends to stop Nightmare Moon when she came back. I only appeared when I was sure you were done using their magic.” “If that’s true, why didn’t they destroy Nightmare Moon?” Twilight questioned. “Luna was a good pony,” was Dusk’s only answer. Doctor Sparkle began to analyze the situation: “So it was true—the Elements of Harmony did restore Luna to harmony by removing her shell of resentment, leaving only the good pony inside. But you think that is different from you?” “Luna said it felt good when they fixed her, but I only ever felt pain from them,” she related, nervously peeking at the fabulous crystals. “If we can’t use the Elements of Harmony, what else is here?” Twilight asked, disappointed. Dusk considered the question, and thought aloud, “Well, the next most powerful thing I know of in here is Discord.” She knew before she said it that it was a horrible idea. Twilight and Spike blurted, “What did you say?” They got goose bumps as they were suddenly aware of a tall, misshapen figure across the chamber. “She…I woke him up once before,” Dusk revealed. “Not fully, just to where I could talk to him, but he wasn’t very cooperative.” “Why were you talking to Discord?” Spike inquired. “I wanted to learn about his dark powers,” she admitted. “He thought I was really funny for some reason.” “We obviously couldn’t let him use that power again. We could ask him what to do, but we couldn’t trust his answers,” Twilight finished the matter. “Is there some kind of record for this vault that lists what each artifact does?” Dusk agreed, “Oh yeah, the manifest. I should have thought of that first.” She trotted to the wall and pulled a book off a shelf. She passed it to Doctor Sparkle, who hastily opened it and entered her native literary world. Twilight found the information she was looking for and began to read off the notable entries: “Invisibility. Subject may not become visible again. “Sword will attack anyone who threatens the bearer of the matching gauntlet, even the bearer of the gauntlet. Gauntlet cannot be removed. “Wearer of mask will become a vessel for the spirit of Kal Mortis. Warning: Kal Mortis.” “Whoa, those really suck,” Spike remarked. Twilight continued undeterred. “Oh, these are better: “When planted spreads extremely fast. Will grow fruit, vegetables, grain, poison, and carnivorous plants. Well, it’s sort of better. Let’s go for something more relevant,” she said as she sped up, scanning page after page of the most promising entries. She rattled off a paranormal laundry list, “Mind reading, transfers consciousness, crosses dimensions.” She frowned. “That’s the last entry. I don’t think any of these will help us.” Dusk was crushed. “Really? There’s nothing at all?” “Well, this is interesting,” Twilight held out unlikely hope. “It says, ‘unknown.’” “Unknown?” Spike asked curiously. “It’s a book, but I guess they still don’t know what it does,” Doctor Sparkle surmised. She turned the page and skimmed its history. “In 1374 the book was rediscovered by a librarian at the Archives of Asturcón. Experts dispute records concerning its previous history. The book was found to be occupied by a magic presence, and the librarian began a cult centering on the artifact. Those involved revered it as a source of guidance. When it was found that members of the cult would no longer worship the Princess, Imperial troops hunted them to near extinction and the book was brought here.” She spotted the usage notes at the bottom of the entry and read, “Author unknown. Intent unknown. Do not open. Do not read.” “I might not take my own advice on that one,” Dusk quipped, “I’d go for any kind of guidance right now.” “J 59,” Twilight noted the reference number. Spike instinctively traced the organized layout of the Vault to a pedestal on the north side and alerted the others to his position. There lay the ancient book, its cover worn and cracked. The golden unicorn head embossed onto the front had lost its luster. “I found the book, but there’s no way I’m touching that thing,” Spike announced. “We have a deal,” he reminded Twilight. “All right, Spike, I won’t make you,” she acknowledged. “What’s that about?” Dusk asked. “Spike here would do anything for me,” Twilight explained, “except let any spirits into his mind.” Spike crossed his arms and repeated bluntly, “You can get possessed all you want, but this space is not for rent.” Doctor Sparkle turned to Dusk and offered, “I’ll open it, if you’re sure you want that. I do have that kind of experience. Books are my thing, anyway.” The tiny alicorn nodded. Twilight approached the object of their discussion and steadied herself. She opened the cover gingerly, but her mind was wary for any sign of trouble. The smell of dusty parchment was the only thing that came out at her. “It’s—blank,” she remarked disappointedly. She held up a page to show off the fragile, empty surface. “It’s black,” Dusk commented. “No it isn’t, it’s white. Well, it’s very faded, but…” Twilight paused. “Does it look black to you?” “Coal,” Dusk insisted. “Weird.” "So it looks different to you than to me?” Doctor Sparkle wondered. “Spike, what do you see?” “OH MY GODDESS!” the little dragon exclaimed indignantly. “What did I just say?!” He grabbed expressively onto the sides of his head and announced, “Occupado! I’m not looking at your crazy paper.” “Sorry,” Twilight apologized. “You’re right. I wish I hadn’t started myself.” She turned her attention back to the manuscript. “I’ll see what I can find.” She stared into the apparent blankness of the parchment and opened herself up to sense any alien feelings or suggestions. She emphasized her questions in her mind: What should be done with Dusk? How can the sun be raised again? She took a hoof-full of pages and pulled open a new section near the middle of the book. She blinked at it and asked importantly, “Did I just turn the page?” “A lot,” Dusk reported. Twilight applied herself to it again, but saw no further signs. “It’s not going to show me anything. I think it might be waiting for you, Dusk.” “Creeeeeepy,” Spike murmured. Twilight agreed, “If we let it choose the page, we let it be in control. Remember, it’s here because it’s dangerous.” Dusk nodded, but replied, “If it has any answers for me I want to know.”
Perilous VisionChapter 20 Dusk stepped up to the book and warily took a peek. Nothing jumped out at her, so she looked closer. The darkness of the page did not appear to be its own color; it was as if it had been written and re-written until all the space was filled up with ink. She took a deep breath, stared into it and concentrated on perceiving as much as she could. “Hm, maybe this page isn’t so special,” she remarked after a while. She was about to turn away when she noticed something moving at the edge of the page. “Wait, what’s that? Do you see that?” “No,” Twilight replied worriedly, “If you want it to stop, look away.” The side of the manuscript rippled and seemed to stretch out. Dusk leaned in to investigate. Ancient Tarpanaic script emerged from the blackness and spilled out as if written on the air. The words and sentences spread out around the book and more was added on top of them and filled in the gaps. “Do you want to keep going?” questioned the concerned magician insistently. “I don’t know,” the reader hesitated. The verbose cloud now blocked the podium from view. It layered itself over her world as it expanded. As it came towards her she tried to look away but she couldn’t, and she was swallowed up in the blackness. She felt that she was standing in empty space. She looked at her hooves; she could see herself but nothing else. She pawed a hoof at nothing in particular and observed that it left a faint dusty mark on the indefinable surface. She turned around to see a white shape like a doorway standing behind her. Streaks of ash led out of the bottom of the featureless portal to the “ground” under her. This door was home. Across from it appeared three more white portals. She quickly saw danger in the fact that they were identical. “Lost in a book: DO NOT WANT,” she thought as she took preventative measures. Using her paranormal dandruff problem to navigate, she put an “x” by the home door. Dusk headed for the doorway on the left. As she neared it she saw it had the texture of parchment. An ink drawing of herself strode proudly into the frame. Celestia stood tall and white as the doorway, wearing her crown and ornaments of gold. “That’s a good sign, right?” she hoped aloud. She started forward as if to enter the door, but stopped when she saw that there was more to the scene. Her self-sketch beckoned and a multitude of ponies came and stood around her. Celestia separated them and gave them clubs, swords, and guns. She bid them fight and they obeyed, falling upon each other savagely. The gory drawing of the struggling, killing crowd swirled around her until she grew impatient, and gestured towards a city. Bombs fell and fire breathing tanks closed in around it. Celestia pounced on the citizens escaping from the flames and crushed them. Suddenly all the mutilated soldiers froze and stared at the bloodstained princess. The undead hordes rushed on her and held her down. A solar standard was stripped from its pole and the flagstaff was brought before the white one. The vengeful soldiers ran it through her chest like a lance, forcing it through her whole body. Dusk cried out as she felt the impact on her scar. The impaling stake passed out of her drawn self, emerging from between the hind legs. It still moved, now red and dripping, and pointed out the door. It changed as it neared her, from ink sketch to a look of real steel. “Oh fuck!” She tried to step away from the door but was instead sliding forward. Dusk felt the wound of her scar tearing back into her lungs in anticipation of the spike that was hurling towards her. A limb shot out from beside her and slammed the door shut. The pain left her as she was disconnected from the bloody vision within the dreamscape. She turned to see who it was that helped her, but they were already gone. Two doors remained in front of her. She considered retreating from this dimension that had taken a hostile turn. The way home was still open; she had only to walk back to it and she would be safe. However, she might be close to what she was looking for. In the last vision, she was powerful; and surely three doors represented three different options, so perhaps they ended better. Dusk moved to take in whatever the middle portal had to show. Another enchanted artwork unfolded as a huge chamber, luxuriously furnished, came into being. Chandeliers hung from the high vaulted ceiling and lit the picture with broad yellow brushstrokes. Ornate curtains covered the windows to hide the scene from the rest of the world. The middle of the room dropped into a deep silver basin. Around the bowl were gathered dozens of earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns that represented all walks of life. The bottom of the conceptual door turned into the silver rim of the bowl, and Dusk viewed the scene from this vantage point. She surveyed the row of young colts, mares, and older fillies that stretched as if from beside her, in front across the basin, and back. She wondered why they stared blankly ahead. Perfume, hints of liquor and potion, and even a more primal smell tickled her nose. A deep, pleased “Aaah” sounded in her ear. She could see furtive movements of something white on the close edge of the panorama. It moved further away, down the row of colorful ponies. It was another manifestation of Celestia, who worked her way out from behind Dusk into full view. It was the Princess, both in full glory and in the grip of passion. With wings outstretched in lustful pleasure, the beautiful alicorn nuzzled up beside a yellow mare, taking in the smoothness and warmth of flesh on flesh. Dusk stared as the two kissed deeply. Celestia straddled the mare provocatively, crossing over her to a unicorn colt. She rubbed her horn on his, closing her eyes and drinking in the feeling with a smile. The goddess continued her intoxicated foreplay, perusing her attractive harem. Dusk’s already large eyes widened, greedily taking in the erotic vision. She involuntarily stiffened her wings and salivated, “Looks pretty good, heheh. I choose door number two.” She leaned forward, partially entering the dimension of the picture. She held out her hoof in the air over the edge of the basin, calculating how to safely enter this sensual world. She froze as she finally noticed the demeanor of the ponies that had earned the goddess’s attention. An earth pony cringed away and cried at the caresses of the enamored Princess. As the ruler fawned over a purple filly, urine trickled down the leg of the terrified little one. Some of them were chained, tied or gagged. Dusk took a regretful step back, but suddenly the filly looked at her. As their eyes met, Dusk was flooded with guilty memories of the little pony. This unexpected connection with reality seemed to drag her forward by her eyes, causing her to topple over the edge of the basin. She rolled down the side and scrambled to her hooves, now completely immersed in the scene that had tempted her. She desperately whirled about to find the door back to the empty space, but it was out of reach at the top of the deep basin. She finally realized that she recognized every pony; they were her every previous conquest. Dusk cowered from a room full of condemning memories. Her self-specter still circled, lavishing unwanted affection on each pony until they began to cry. Celestia’s deranged ecstasy built until she had finished her circuit. The white alicorn stumbled clumsily on the edge and slid unconcernedly down to her grey alternative. Dusk dodged the apparition of herself. The Princess got up as if to fly back out of the silver bowl, but instead merely laughed at her weeping victims. She abruptly went silent and studied Dusk, who found herself once again under her own hungry and threatening gaze. “No, I can’t touch me again!” Dusk thought and ran away up the side of the basin, only to slide back down. Celestia again cackled deliriously. The fear, shame, and hurt of the surrounding ponies rose to a tremendous weight and leaked out of their eyes as tears. Tears spilled down the sides of the bowl in growing streams. Dusk lifted herself out of the puddle that was forming and readied her wings for an escape. She threw herself towards the door, but her wings failed to move. As she crashed short of her goal, she was aware that her wings were bound. The flow of tears grew, and swirled strongly about her legs. She tried to cry out, but found herself gagged. The sufferers wept, Celestia laughed, and Dusk whimpered as the water rose around the two alicorns. She struggled to swim, but the current pushed her down and to the middle of the drowning bowl. Salty tears filled her lungs as she slipped helplessly beneath the surface. She flailed frantically, then slowly, as she lost strength. A warm glow surrounded her and lifted her from the whirlpool of sorrows. The golden light peeled away the cloth from her mouth and freed her wings. The magic aura carried her back through the door and set her down gently, but she was still choking. When the door closed, the tears from the vision vanished from her lungs and her coat, leaving her dry and gasping for breath. Dusk stayed where she lay and tried to recover physically and emotionally. After her fear had worn off, she was left with that familiar guilt. She knew she had done all of that violence and abuse as Celestia, but this was worse. She had chosen that door. She had wanted it. It was no magically-summoned second personality that had tempted her and tormented her, like before. It was a part of herself, a scar on her mind. Deep down she had all the same desires. Same scar, same pony. “What would I do if I had unlimited power again?” she was forced to consider. Was it possible that she could be the same monster again if she was put back into that environment? There was the third door. “That’s just awful,” she groaned. She had seen two depictions of herself in power, two sets of grievances, and two death scenes. “Is the third time a charm, or is it stupid?” She had almost died twice—did dying in here return you to the real world, or kill your mind? Dusk decided it was probably the latter, since there was already a way to return. However, she was almost finished here, and if she left empty-hoofed the future was bleak. She figured she was out of self-destructing sins anyway. Whether or not she was in danger, she hadn’t died. She had fallen straight into the path of death and done nothing to get herself out, yet she was alive. There was some force in this otherworld that seemed to protect her. She remembered the hoof that closed the first door and the magic that came from nowhere to retrieve her from the second. Apparently, some phantom unicorn stalked her on the page with benevolent intent. Had Twilight found a way to help her? Whoever was with her, the fact that she was not alone gave her the courage to approach the third door. The unseen pen sketched another rich interior, but this was no fictitious room. The sanctuary of the Cathedral of the Sun in Canterlot came into view. Celestia stood in her natural place on the middle of the tall stage, just as she had the day before—whatever happened. Great marble columns and massive golden sun emblems rose up beside her. Sunlight brilliantly lit stained glass behind her, and choirs in front of her sang her praises. Dusk saw herself empowered and the sun in the sky, but not to be tricked again, she waited for the moving picture to complete its tale. Celestia reared up and basked in the adoration of the world that was under her spell. Her eyes began to glow white, and the worshipers also lit up with a shining aura. Then the light of the singers began to leave them and pool around the object of their worship. The goddess began a graceful flight upwards as she drew their energy and their life into herself. Her whole body began to gleam with the borrowed light even as the choirs fell to the floor, dark and lifeless. The ceiling melted away from the glorious being as she flew out into the blue sky. Thousands of bright trails floated up after her as she consumed everything that was offered from the nation below her. The goddess, exultant in her power and new brilliance, rose into the sun. As the two heavenly lights met, they shuddered. The sun collapsed on her and formed a black speck. Darkness rather than light flowed out of it as it grew. The spires of Canterlot broke apart and fell up into it, and soon the whole world began to follow suit. Dusk was also caught in its gravity, and would have tumbled through the portal were it not for powerful hooves that seized her from behind. For a moment she thought that she would be torn apart between the competing forces, but the black hole soon destroyed the door itself and ceased to exist. Predictably, her helper had also vanished.
The Fourth DoorChapter 21 That was it. There were no more doors except for the way home, and she had nothing to show for her considerable troubles. “I know I’m bad!” she yelled to the condemning book. “I know everything is my fault! Stupid useless book.” The black emptiness gave no reply, but she was sure it frowned in judgment. “Time to skip out of this shit,” she muttered and galloped for the exit. Her face waited on the other side of the door. Just before she reached the portal, the other Dusk coughed. Dusk paused and stared confusedly at her image. She didn’t feel the urge to cough, but the Dusk on the other side reeled back, choking on her own lungs. Her chest heaved and she spat blood and ash onto the floor. She collapsed, wheezing, gasping, and expelling more vital fluids. An ember showed on her skin, followed by another, and soon the spots of flame spread across her. Her fur blackened and melted away into smoke. Dusk watched her dry body crack and crumble like a cinder, and at a gust of wind her remains were scattered as ash. Dusk panicked and jumped back from the door to reality, where she had just watched herself die. Was she still alive? Did she still exist outside this nether dimension? Perhaps this was only another door to a morbid vision that she had mistaken for the way home. But no—a gray ‘x’ by the portal insisted that what she had seen was part of the real world. She hung in the emptiness, paralyzed by fear and circumstances. There were no more choices. Death waited in all possible realities, and cornered her in the void. Another white portal appeared to her left. “I don’t want to see any more,” she sobbed. She stared at it with fear, as if it would lunge out and attack her. She was tired from her wild magical transmutations and harrowing experiences that had come so quickly. Every part of her that learned from experience told her to avoid the awful possibilities that opened up here, which had all tried to kill her or succeeded. She was trapped in a book that must be possessed by a hostile and deranged spirit, an evil energy. The warnings had been right. All resistance was useless. She could run out into the blackness, but the two portals seemed to be the only objects in this eerie plane. To flee from here would be to abdicate dimension, time, and reality. She picked herself back up one more time and stepped toward the new metaphysical gateway. “You got me,” she conceded mournfully. “I hope it’s the last one,” she said, taking the risk of looking and triggering the dream. It was a simpler sketch than the last two, with simple outlines of representative shapes. What looked like a ruined city was drawn out in front of her; a moment more and three mountains rose up behind it. Some sort of hole opened up in the side of the center mountain, and came closer until it stretched over the whole paper, leaving it blank again. “Boxes?” Dusk asked, confused at the two anticlimactic objects that were now showing. Indeed, there were two rectangles, with triangles around them. Just then a small gray figure entered the scene from the left. It left a faint smudge on the paper as it crossed. “That’s me,” she sighed. The stick-figure alicorn hopped over the spikes onto one of the platforms in the middle. “Now does it smash me or something?” Dusk asked despondently. Another figure approached from the other edge of the paper. It was strange; horse features were drawn out from a pictogram, a character of the Tarpanaic language. She had picked up some of the language a long time ago, and this, she remembered, meant “life”. The stranger, who seemed to bear a good portent, mounted the platform opposite sketch-Dusk. The emblem of the blazing sun moved up from wherever it had been hidden and hung between the two ponies. The character for life jumped out of its bearer into the sun and came down on the tiny alicorn, who grew in stature. The sun ascended high into the sky as Dusk changed from gray to outlined white. Dusk smiled at this happy sign, before looking back to the right. That platform was now empty, as if there was nothing left. “What happened to the other one?” she wondered aloud, as she realized her concern for the stranger. In any case, this door seemed right and offered the only solution she had seen, so she had to take it. She tried to enter, but it was mere paper, and tore slightly as she pressed onto it. There was an odd glint of something moving on the other side. She heard the beat of wings that seemed to launch from nearby and power quickly into the distance. The unsupported picture folded on itself and fell down, slipping through the plane she stood on and floating down out of sight. She reached after it, but it was gone. Now there was nothing left but the home door. She could scarce bring herself to look there again, but when she did she saw that it showed her face again, as if it had reset. She looked into the oversized image of her deep black eyes and blinked. She looked up from the black page and she was in the Vault again. Spike yelled, “Hey, she’s back!” “Thank Celestia,” Dr. Sparkle burst out, before reconsidering the old turn of phrase. “I was about to try to separate you from that thing. Are you alright?” Dusk’s head spun and her legs shook. “I don’t feel so good,” she murmured. The room stopped spinning, but a burning pain coursed from her waist through her chest. Her lungs heaved and sputtered. She tasted soot and spat out red. Twilight and Spike rushed to catch her as she stumbled and collapsed. Dusk cried out as a second sting shot down her hind leg. “I’m going to die, I’m going to burn!” she exclaimed as she was overcome with agony and terror. Doctor Sparkle attempted to render first aid, but it was little use. Fortunately, the bite of the sun left just as it had come. Dusk blinked in shock to be alive; she was certain her fate had found her, just as she had seen from the book. “Did you find out anything?” Twilight questioned. “It showed me what to do, I think,” Dusk reported. “It almost killed me, though.” “There’s a reason it’s here,” Twilight said with confirmed suspicion. “If we have what we need, there’s no sense taking something like that with us.” Her concern was renewed as the ailing alicorn went limp and closed her eyes. “Dusk, are you alright?” Dusk nodded. She felt her scar and remembered what she had witnessed of herself. “Call me Celestia,” she responded weakly.
ConvergenceChapter 22: Convergence General Armor strode angrily out of the research wing of the academy, pursued by the Director of Magic Development and a team of confused analysts. Ignoring them, he rendezvoused with the Chief of Imperial Intelligence in the courtyard and demanded, “Find Starcatch! Doctor Sparkle has taken the subject and the dragon and gone rogue, she will need to be apprehended.” He fumed, but stopped to translate his blinding rage into orders. “Operation Starcatch is over, kill the subject. The Solar Scouts are at your disposal.” The chief questioned, “What if the Doctor resists? Isn’t she your…” “I said bring her back!” he snapped. “Alive or dead, bring her back.” The chief nodded and relayed to his own assets, “Locate Starcatch and Sparkle. Dispatch agents to all known associates and put a bolo on that dragon. Solar Scouts are standing by to intercept on your call.” The pursing research head objected, “Kill the subject?! We’re talking about Celestia!” “Celestia is dead!” General declared. “It is useless to me.” “I’m contacting the Interim Council, you have no authority to make a decision like this,” the director threatened. “Will you stop and listen to me!?” he called as the General continued to the radio officer. “Lieutenant Garrison, have you secured the palace grounds? Is the Council aware of its new place?” the General calmly asked. A voice crackled through the box, “Yes sir, all members have been detained and we await your orders for reorganization.” The gold-plated warrior turned to the shocked director and announced, “I am now in control of Equestria.” “The Admiral might think differently,” the director shot back. General Armor glared at him and countered confidently, “Not with my marines on his flagship.” The director turned pale and stammered, “But, the sun—we need the sun!” “We survived before she came,” General dismissed. “The secrets of the ancient unicorn lords died with them,” the head magician reminded. “This is madness!” “Recover them or devise your own solution,” the young ruler ordered. “You might find new inspiration now that your survival depends on it. In any case, the few and the strong will survive, and my Empire will endure under any sky. I have an invasion to finish.” He looked up at an approaching transport and prepared to teleport aboard. In a low tone, he said the wind, “Don’t resist, sis.” Rarity sauntered down the busy sidewalk of Fortune Avenue. Within a day of the trouble, more lights had been discreetly installed. The streets of the Old District glowed with cheerful colors. Here the threat of eternal night was wished away, and the show went on. Her mane and tail were cast in stark relief. The ostentatious curves glistened purple above and carried a heavy shadow underneath. Her dress continued the purple line down her back but was mostly black with red ruffles. She stared up like a moth at the fluorescents and neons as she passed underneath. They annoyed her, but obviously she had to keep her chin up. It got brighter near the Fortune Sun casino. “Mustn’t go there,” she told herself. She heard a whimper that seemed oddly out of keeping with the well-to-do traffic around her. “Why, oh why, are my ears so sensitive to this kind of thing?” she thought, but stopped anyway. Head still high, she glanced down to see a naked and disheveled earth pony. Worse still, it was a mother sheltering her young filly. How did a beggar make it all the way in here? She must have been desperate. “Please,” she called out weakly. She had started off louder and more insistent, but hope was wearing thin. Rarity considered the bits in her purse. There weren’t as many as she would like. Still, she wasn’t heartless, at least not yet. Some of the bits began to rise to the top of the purse. Filigreed shoes clicked on the cobblestone next to her. Galinda Riser struck a haughty pose to flaunt her own showy dress and jested, “Oh, Rarity, I’m sorry to interrupt you and your gutter friends.” Bits dropped back to the bottom of the purse. The downtrodden mother sighed as she became mute and invisible. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rarity fibbed, “I was just on my way back to my boutique.” “By stopping, yes,” Galinda said sarcastically, and flipped her pearls at her target. “You should always make friends in the arena you are headed to next. I don’t know if the rumors are true, but just from what you’re wearing I can tell you’re headed to the back alley.” Rarity absorbed the blow with a steady face and returned, “How do you say such things, sporting something so tawdry?” “Tawdry, hm?” Galinda replied, unconcerned. “I would take an insult like that seriously, if it was from a serious competitor.” There was little left to say, but Galinda took a stance as if she had always meant to be there and would certainly not be the one to walk away. Rarity paused, looking for a way to deny her the satisfaction, but the other unicorn held all the cards. Rarity snorted and marched on, trying not to hear Galinda say, “I thought so.” Her hooves trod the cobblestone for a few blocks and brought her to the Carousel Boutique. She had moved her shop to Canterlot after the troubles, not out of allegiance but simply to pursue a greater status in the fashion world. After her friends split up, there was nothing to keep her in postwar Ponyville. The well-styled exterior had set the shop apart from the quaint country town, but here it was another pea in the pod. Apparently, there were too many peas already. Rarity entered, and locked the door behind her. She did not turn on the lights; she knew every inch of the shop that was her dream. She moved fluidly through to the designer’s stool, the seat of her power. She climbed upon the padded stool with a graceful spiraling motion. No one was watching, but it would have interrupted her to carry herself any other way. She took a lighter out of her purse before she put the bag away. She willed a long cigarette out of the open pack on the counter of her vanity and lit up. She knew it was bad for her, but it was fashionable and helped her be fashionably numb. She turned on the light above her without looking up. It shone a narrow beam down in front of her so that she could see the smoke and watch how it moved. In the still air, it billowed slowly up, pushing past itself until it spread away out of sight. She wished she was so free. Within her four walls, she could pretend that she was self-contained, and that she could rise up and take her hopes with her own persistence and fabulosity. A strong draft from a broken window blew across her. It killed her that she could no longer afford to fix it properly. Dainty trails of smoke are at the mercy of any wind that finds them, to be smeared into featureless smudges and carried away before they can dance. Where did it come from, the wind that pushed her away? It couldn’t be Galinda. That one’s work was clearly inferior, and her social skills were not so attuned as to make up for it. Another cigarette allowed her thinking to go farther as Rarity reminisced on her creations. She had done good work, and it should have paid off. Did she do bad business? No, business had simply gone bad. The unicorn had assumed that her skills would take her far, especially since she had previously garnered royal attention. All her best clients had so suddenly left her. It was as if some conspiracy would not allow her to be fulfilled. There was a knock on the door. Could it be a client at this hour? What hour was it, anyway? The heavens were so irresponsible these days. She got down from her stool but didn’t let go of her thoughts just yet. She pulled back the corner of the drapes to peer at the newcomers. She was not greeted with a particularly promising sight: two, no, three hooded figures, but two were short. They didn’t look like clients. Could more beggars have actually braved high-class territory to track her down? Uncertain, she remained silent. The tall one knocked again, forcefully, and called out, “Rarity!” At the moment, she couldn’t think of three beings who knew her name that she wanted to encounter. She took a breath and replied anyway, “What is it? Who’s there?” “We’re friends,” said a familiar voice. It brought back a mixture of warm and painful feelings, but didn’t everything important? She opened the door a crack and took a better look. She locked onto the tall visitor. “If it isn’t Twilight Sparkle—or should I call you Doctor Sparkle now?” she greeted unenthusiastically. She let her whole body into the opening but still did not offer entrance. “I hope you haven’t come to bring me into Imperial business, you know how I’ve kept out of such matters.” Another glance and she could not avoid commenting, “On second thought, if the Division needs help with those dreadfully unflattering hoods you’re wearing, I would be compelled to oblige.” “Not this time, Rarity,” Twilight answered. “I’m in a lot of trouble. Can Spike come in?” The smallest figure tipped back its hood with a clawed hand to show the glint of a sharp smile. “Oh, hello, Spike,” Rarity reacted with a softer tone. The stylish unicorn huffed slightly at no one in particular. “I forget my manners. Of course you can all come in.” The three filed into the shadowy storefront, eager to disappear from the street’s eyes. Twilight had not come by often enough to know the layout and stopped when she bumped into a mannequin. Spike once again impacted her hindquarters, but the third visitor could see well enough to dodge the pile-up. “Are you gothic now?” Twilight complained, and covered a cough. “I could never limit myself to black. I thought you would like it this way,” Rarity jabbed. She waved her horn at the overhead lights to reveal the gilded pink interior. “Please tell me you didn’t bring a fourth guest.” She motioned a hoof in the air to indicate an indistinct presence. “Spike, dear, has she kept your rule?” “Yeah, but I still have to remind her,” the little dragon replied. “I still have to remind YOU that what we do is classif—“ Twilight coughed again and saw the haze that hung in the room. She fanned the air in front of her with a hoof and asked, “How do you live with this?” “It’s culture. Besides, how would I live without it?” Rarity casually admitted. The fire-breathing runt piped, “I don’t have any problem with it.” The other gray pony carefully removed her hood and added, “It doesn’t bother me.” She breathed the smoky air as if it was more natural. Although she worried herself with this kind of thing, she wouldn’t keep herself from enjoying the perks. “Who are you?” Rarity asked neutrally, but then gave a low cry and jumped back. She demanded of Twilight, “Is it possessed?!” “Not very. It’s the eyes,” the stranger explained, “and it’s a mare.” “Excuse me,” Rarity offered reflexively. “She’s…” Twilight attempted to moderate their communication, but froze up. “Dusk,” the grey one curtly replied. “Yes, Dusk, she isn’t… she’s Dusk,” Twilight said, to herself as much as Rarity. Rarity glanced skeptically from the stuttering researcher to the unnatural pegasus. “Did you say not very possessed? Doctor Sparkle, what have you done to this poor girl?” “A lot, but I undid most of it,” Twilight returned. “I was supposed to take her all the way; that’s actually why we’re here.” She took a couple steps towards her old friend and tried to meet her eyes, but looked down. “Listen, Rarity. I was wrong about some things, a lot of things. I’m sorry for how we left off. You were right not to use your magic for the Empire.” “You think that’s where we left off?!” Rarity objected. “We were done when you split the six of us up like we were just YOUR friends. They were still my friends, but you couldn’t handle that, could you?” Her pitch rose with her temper. “You just kept pushing and pushing until I was all alone again! Even in Ponyville, every pony would look at me so alien, and gape at me, because I was TWILIGHT SPARKLE’S friend.” She finished in a tremble, propelling another cigarette to her mouth and puffing hungrily. Twilight received this all while staring at the floor with her ears down. “I don’t… I’m…” the magician fumbled, before choking up. “Shit.” Doctor Sparkle doesn’t cry, and she held back tears successfully. The parlor was hushed for a time that seemed rather long. Rarity held the cigarette out of her mouth and started to consider that the other unicorn might be genuine, though terrible at expressing herself. “Since I’m already alone, what could it hurt to be Twilight Sparkle’s friend again?” Rarity wondered. It could hurt very much, she realized. “I must be demented,” she thought. She broke the silence, conceding mercifully, “Well, it appears you’re doing something good now.” She breathed deeply and asked, “What trouble are you in?” Twilight calmly informed, “I was supposed to…” she glanced to the salt-and-pepper puzzle standing close by and recalled the words, “—kill Dusk. It was very important. I escaped with her, and now if we’re caught by any Imperials they will kill us. You’re the only pony I can trust; all of my associates would turn me in.” “What do you expect me to do?” Rarity asked honestly. “Are you here to hide out?” “Not most of us, we need to travel, and quickly,” Twilight corrected. “Spike needs somewhere to stay though. Dragons are the only secure line of communication, so they’re quite valuable to the Empire. Spike can’t leave Canterlot due to some anti-theft measures.” Usually, the valuable dragon would be offended at being discussed as property. This time his growing grin showed his approval for the course of conversation. Dusk’s eyes shot from unicorn to unicorn. It was quite clear how she had gotten from Twilight to Rarity, but something else unnerved her. Not long ago she had seen Applejack and Pinkie Pie in the Lunar camp, and was captured by Rainbow Dash. Now here were two more of them. There was something about these six ponies, before she knew them and even now. Then it struck Celestia: “It’s like something I would do.” But she hadn’t done it. “A word with you?” she requested of Twilight. They stepped to the corner and “Dusk” whispered, “We need Rarity. Is there anything you can say to her to get her to come with us?” “I didn’t know you had a plan,” the Doctor muttered, analyzing the situation quickly. “I think I just borrowed one,” Celestia replied cryptically. “I don’t know if she will,” Twilight cautioned, “I think she hates me.” Celestia didn’t like to speak as herself, but it was only too relevant. “No, student, she hates that she loves you.” Twilight frowned at the experienced manipulator, who returned an expression that was sad but still insistent. Rarity caught Spike’s gaze and gave him a smile, but looked after the other two guests when his gaping demeanor was too intense. She enjoyed his company. He was cute and at times adorable, and dragons are fabulous by definition. However, they had become slightly complicated by the end of the Ponyville days, and she could not define their relationship. She was getting the impression that it might mean something else to him, and being trapped in a secret lab didn’t make him more stable. She was unsure if she was ready to hide him with her for an undefined time. Twilight approached Rarity sensitively, and laid out their situation, “We need someone else to get a ride out of here. I’m sorry, but you might not be safe here, and if you don’t come with us…” She continued with a softer tone and pleading eyes, “I may never see you again.” She thought bitterly to herself, “It’s stupid that I have an ulterior motive, I really care about that.” “Alright,” Rarity replied simply. Twilight stood stunned; it shouldn’t have been that easy. Rarity gave one last blunt appraisal to the stalled dream around her, and concluded, “Allow me to slip into something more appropriate.” “Rarity, we don’t have much time,” Twilight objected. Dusk overruled, “If it’s important to you, go ahead. Thank you for your help.” “PLEASE do,” Spike added with hungry eyes. As Rarity turned to change, Twilight stepped in between her and their smaller companions. She glared at them accusingly, and scolded, “Control yourselves, both of you.” Spike growled his irritation, but the secret alicorn affected innocence.
Pela HaxiChapter 23: Pela Haxi Three warrior pegasi waited atop a cloud over Canterlot. As the cloud drifted along lazily, the dusk horizon lit it from below so that they were concealed in the dark puffs. Captain Dash slid a rough spike out of her flight jacket and rolled it over in her hooves. She flipped the meteorite weapon in the air, caught it, and slashed through a puff of cloud. It was almost impossible to deflect with magic since it was not connected to this world. Such tools had rarely been in her arsenal, although she was trained to use them. The private recited prayers to Celestia. He requested, not protection, but the resolve and power to complete his duty at any cost. Each line was punctuated by the phrase, “Morsa mors, Pela haxi.” That was the motto of the Solar Scouts: “From death to death, for Her we fight.” What he lacked in experience he made up for in fervor. For his part, Major Snaps just didn’t give a shit. Not much of a shit, anyway, but he was more than crazy enough to be a Solar Scout. While the others were prepared to die, Captain Dash didn’t even consider it. She had dodged death enough to convince herself that she would somehow make it through anything. “Gonna be an interesting target,” Zeze commented. The captain nodded but looked away. It was a dangerous target, but that wasn’t what was on her mind. She privately recounted the shocking facts from the emergency briefing: “Starcatch is an impostor planted by the Lunars. Doctor Sparkle was part of a plot to place their puppet on the throne. When they were discovered, Sparkle escaped with the spy.” If she expected her personal feelings to make her incompetent to complete the mission, she should have alerted her superiors so that she could be replaced. She hadn’t. Rainbow Dash would stand with the light against all darkness. She couldn’t be friends with a nightsider. When she parted ways with Applejack and Pinkie Pie, she was clear that the condition for their survival was to never meet her on the battlefield. In martial arts practice, the gun range, and bitter nightmares she had prepared herself to kill them. Rarity and Fluttershy were good ponies, but they couldn’t really be her friends since they lacked the conviction to hold up the cause. She used to doubt herself, but it was Twilight’s devotion and the company of her new blood-brothers pointed her to her true absolute. Celestia’s wisdom had taught her to live in the eternal light of this narrow path. What could Twilight be thinking? Dash didn’t know what she would do, but she knew she had to be the one to do it. She had a better chance than anyone of bringing her wayward friend back alive. She moved to the edge of the cloud and looked down on the Jewel of the Empire. The white towers of the palace still watched over the city. Wherever Celestia had gone, she was surely with them in spirit, and Dash could still look toward the throne for her direction. Or could she? She had heard chatter from army units moving to forcibly replace the Royal Guard. Personally, she had always thought that it would be better to have the General calling the shots than leave it to a bunch of politicians, but the move and the timing weren’t right. And that was some kind of cold to issue orders like that about his own sister. Did she dare doubt his motives? “Hell, is there anything I wouldn’t dare do?” she wondered. The radio on Dash’s vest squawked, “Suspect crossed the south checkpoint five minutes ago. White sky carriage, bridle number CL 379. Targets presumed to be on board. Highly dangerous; eliminate with extreme prejudice. Scouts, you’re up.” The squad lined up behind her and opened their wings. “Let’s stick a witch,” Zeze smirked. “By the book,” the captain insisted. “We fly Talon and execute a Catch-22 on my mark.” The commandoes dove from their perch into the southern sky and closed with terrific speed on the estimated trajectory of their quarry. They were not far off; unaware it had been compromised, the carriage had maintained a standard course away from the city. In the vehicle, Rarity sat with serenity. Her grey flowing blouse rolled like smoke in the wind. Ponies thought her art was shallow; it was for her to know that the grey was for acceptance and blue was for freedom. After they left Canterlot, Twilight and Dusk had emerged from the cases and rare fabrics the designer had brought along. The two pegasi who pulled the shuttle were not happy about the extra passengers, but additional bits changed their minds. Dusk lay on the floor, still groggy from ill health and ill transformations. Doctor Sparkle gave a parting glance to her home city, and spotted three figures racing after them. “Damn, they found us,” she alerted. “Take us to the treetops and head west,” she yelled to the drivers. “What? You said we were going to Phillydelphia,” the senior driver protested. The magician motioned behind them and shot back, “Now we’re going to stay alive! If they catch us you’re dead too.” “Faster, we have gems,” Rarity added. The alarmed colts did as they were told. “I’m sorry, Rarity, but we have to ditch this stuff to lose weight,” Twilight asserted apologetically. To her surprise, her friend was throwing a case overboard before she finished speaking. Dusk rose up, swiped Rarity’s packs of cigarettes, and shoved them out the back with a pile of fabrics. “A small kindness,” she muttered to herself. She flopped back to the floor in real exhaustion. The three aviators turned after them, keeping their formation. The major and private flew ahead and to each side, maintaining spread from Dash in the center. Speed was an entrance requirement for the commandoes, and they easily closed the gap. The captain drew her meteorite weapon and her subordinates drew a bead with their sub-machine guns. As they attacked in this arrangement, a magician would face a terrible dilemma. The warriors were far enough apart that it would be difficult to hit them all with a single spell, and that move would leave the defender vulnerable to bullets. Raising a deflection spell would protect the target from the guns, but it would be useless against the incoming space spike. Teleportation could allow escape, or the magician might be shot before it could be finished. Twilight Sparkle failed to decide on a course of action. Rainbow Dash failed to initiate the maneuver. They stared at each other for a critical split second. “Stand down!” Captain Dash barked. The private either obeyed or merely hesitated in confusion. Zeze moved to take the shot anyway. Dash anticipated his insubordination and in an instant was beside him, deflecting the muzzle of his gun. “Stand down, bastard,” Dash growled, emphasizing with her pistol. “You finally broke orders!” Zeze condemned, “I thought I smelled a traitor in you.” Dash retorted, “A traitor? That’s Celestia’s best student. You’re following traitor’s orders!” The major spun around and kicked his superior away. The pistol tumbled to the ground and Captain Dash pulled up to regain the cloud layer. Zeze emptied his clip into the milky vapors above, guessing her location. “What are you doing!?” the private demanded, his loyalties torn between the combatants. Dash did not reappear. Had the rainbow flier crashed on the clouds? Sometimes dead pegasi fall through and sometimes they don’t. A bolt of lightning answered their doubts as the shaft of plasma cut them off from the carriage. More flashes rumbled out of the cloud bank and forced them to fall behind a considerable distance. The course of the chase broke into open skies. Out of cumulus ammo, Dash powered ahead, shooting past the carriage. The two gunners moved to press the attack. The yellow and red of the pegasus’ mane and tail stood out starkly as she ascended high into empty space. A smile crossed her face as she spun the world around her, rolling over into a sharp dive straight toward the carriage. The other scouts were closing fast behind the vehicle. The two unicorn passengers looked nervously in front and behind at the approaching threats. Rainbow Dash was picking up alarming speed and began to glow faintly as she streaked into what was going to be the biggest sonic rainboom ever. Although the shockwave of such an explosion was a gentle gust to a faraway observer, it was very violent at the epicenter. The scouts stopped trying to gain a bead with their weapons, rushing to calculate their estranged leader’s intentions. “She wouldn’t,” the private gaped in astonishment. Zeze cautioned, “It IS Captain Dash…” The two exchanged wide eyed looks. Rarity, as closely as was ladylike, yelled “Oh, please do something!” Twilight struggled to understand the situation and fixed her gaze on her old friend out in the sky. “No, keep going straight!” Twilight shouted to the drivers. “I don’t know if I can trust any pony in this messed up world anymore,” she declared, “but if there’s one pony I trust it’s our Dashie.” Rarity simply stared in shock. Twilight gulped. “Right?” The sonic comet approached critical mass as she neared her target. The Solar Scouts would not usually back down from a threat, but coming from one of their own? They broke off the chase and sprinted through the air to escape the coming tie-dye apocalypse. Dash aborted at the last minute, shooting over her friends and turning into a skid. She bled off airspeed until she was hovering comfortably. “It’s over, brothers!” she called defiantly. “MORSA MORS!” she boomed, and hurled the meteorite stake. The private followed it as it arced towards the earth. Its weight drove it into the ground vertically. The private perched on the blunt end of the little obelisk and bowed in a statuesque posture. He reverently finished, “Pela haxi.” Zeze swooped down and knocked him off of the prized tool, saying, “Don’t be an idiot.” He motioned for his subordinate to follow, explaining, “I didn’t hear a peep from that magician, she must be worn out from however she went rogue. The two of us can take Dash and complete the mission.” The private regained his hooves. He marched to the spike, removed it from the ground, and sheathed it in his own vest. He met the major’s hot stare resolutely before he turned and walked away. “You’ve got to be shitting me!” Zeze hollered after him. The frustrated major, faced with the prospect of two or perhaps three respectable foes, took wing back to base to report the deserters. Rainbow Dash watched them leave before she let herself look to her old friends. “For her we fight,” she repeated, and marveled that “her” did not mean the same thing anymore. The brazen aviator turned her back on the Solar Empire and went after her friends. Alighting on the front rail of the carriage, she looked Twilight in the eyes and demanded, “How the HELL did you get in so much trouble?” Rarity had recovered her composure, and joined in, “Do tell.” “By Celestia… I think,” she replied flatly, pointing to the feeble gray passenger who lay on the carriage floor. The others stared in continued incomprehension. This might be a long ride.
Captured?Chapter 24 The party traveled on an unfamiliar path through the Everfree forest. Despite its dangers, it was a likely haven for retreating Lunar forces. More confident of surviving the treacherous woods than the air defenses of either side, Twilight had decided to make the journey by ground to be less conspicuous. The path was narrow and only sometimes offered a bright slit in the shadowy canopy of the tall trees. Dusk was compelled to sleep heavily by the exhaustion of internalizing too much drastic magic. Rarity peered through the dim undergrowth and shuddered. “Ugh. Why did we have to come to such a dirty, uncivilized place?” Rainbow Dash quickly interjected, “What I don’t get is why we have to go the Lunars. I was just fighting them yesterday, and this seems an awful lot like surrendering.” Rarity saw that the conversation was going to get political, so she shifted to the side and looked away, saving her complaints for later. The Solar scout hovered up out of the carriage and pressed her nose down into Twilight’s face. “You aren’t actually a traitor, RIGHT?” she demanded, almost accusing. “I would never betray Celestia!” the unicorn vowed. Then she reconsidered with a cynical squint, and corrected, “I would never betray her first.” “Wait a minute, what’s that supposed to mean?!” Dash pushed further. Twilight shook her head. “You don’t want to hear that. We’re doing our duty to the Solar Empire right now, so I guess that’s all you care about.” The soldier backed off, and Rainbow Dash returned to her seat as the friend. “Hey, that’s not true,” she rejoined in a softer tone. “What are you trying to say?” “She lied to me,” Twilight revealed. “She was always a lie, but she was the biggest lie to me. She practically raised me on lies. She pretended to care, but all she wanted was power, death, and gluttony.” The suspicion that Rainbow Dash had politely put away was rebuilt with every word she heard. “Stop it!” she barked. “You’re talking like Lunar propaganda!” She motioned to Dusk and said, “Was it something she told you? In her condition, she’s confused and could say anything, that’s what the General said.” “My brother is the one who would do anything. He can’t tell that what he’s doing is wrong anymore. He had you hunt me down,” Twilight reminded, stifling the pain in her voice. “She did tell me a lot, but I didn’t believe her. I had to show myself, and hurt her pretty badly too.” “What exactly did you see?” Dash asked skeptically. Rarity turned her attention to Twilight; it was a good enough question to rouse her curiosity. “She tried to warn me,” Twilight explained, looking down at the ever-ambiguous subject, “but I thought the same thing you did. Then, when I did the spell to restore her—“ The magician realized that the captain did not know what the process entailed, so she clarified, “It was a bi-conscious resolution…” Dash stared blankly. “Huh?” “Our Celestia and the dusk Celestia were both awake as I was operating on her,” Twilight finally said plainly. “I thought it would be smooth, that they might be compatible, but the Princess was actively killing Dusk. It was like she was eating her, and enjoying it. She was so cruel and disgusting… It was horrible.” “Wow,” Dash murmured disbelievingly as the three ponies stared at the tormented alicorn. Celestia shuddered at the memory. “I should have known. Death and devouring is what the dark arts are about. She was always more interested in my research than I was, she’s the one who made me start.” Twilight shook her head. “But that was the only way I knew of to fix her,” Twilight continued. “Then she consulted an artifact that seemed to have answers, and it showed her another way. She said there’s a place she needs to go, and she needs the sun, but for that, we need Luna.” “NIGHTMARE MOON?!” Rainbow Dash blurted in shock. “We’re taking the sun—helpless, confused Celestia—to Nightmare Moon? The night Princess who wants eternal darkness? The twisted vampiric monster that steals fillies off the streets at night, who has been terrorizing our country ever since she returned? The one who turned to evil because of her IMMENSE HATRED FOR CELESTIA?” Twilight and Rarity became visibly nervous and Twilight nodded regretfully as the loyal captain ranted. At the mention of that name, the gloom of the forest suddenly seemed thicker and more threatening. Even so, they welcomed the canopy’s thin protection from the moon, which stared down like a sinister eye. The drivers heard what was said with a raised voice, and stopped, unwilling to move towards the sky demon. “SHUT UP!” a thin voice yelled. Little Celestia heaved herself to her hooves and glared up intensely at all of them. She put her hoof to Rainbow Dash’s flight vest and growled, “Nightmare Moon is gone! Luna is best pony! When night falls, Luna protects ponies from ME. She’s been keeping us all alive for days, while you were trying to kill her. So shut up about my sister.” Her outburst finished, the tiny alicorn huffed and slumped back down. The three friends glanced at each other, processing the strangeness of hearing something like that from Celestia. Twilight took issue with their stalled transportation, and told the drivers, “Keep going, we won’t ask you to take us all the way to Nightm—err, Luna.” They reluctantly acceded, and resumed a steady clip so they could get this out-of-control job over with. “Dash, Rarity,” Twilight addressed, “When we meet NLR troops, you can’t say anything about this. She’s not Celestia—they’d kill Celestia—she’s a young pegasus called Dusk, one of my test subjects. I’ll probably take most of the heat.” She turned specifically to her pegasus friend and instructed, “Captain Dash, you’re still on duty. You have to protect Celestia. Don’t be too obvious, though, we don’t want to blow her cover.” Captain Dash saluted, proud to be charged with such a task. Twilight turned to Rarity with pleading eyes. “Will you help me, again? I know you’re not a Solar, but that’s why I need you.” Rarity nodded, and replied, “Of course I’ll help, if I can.” She reached for a cigarette to take the edge off of things if it turned out to be a difficult request. She hid her consternation as she failed to find a smoke. Twilight explained, “I need you to take care of Dusk when we can’t. You’re a civilian, so if she’s with you she might be treated better. Watch her and make sure her mane is hiding her horn at all times. File the thing down, if you have to.” “Oh, if it’s cosmetic you can count on me,” Rarity said, relieved. A pink and yellow shape flew out of the foliage and stood in the path ahead of them. The drivers braked hard to avoid running over the cowering pegasus. It was Fluttershy, and she held out her hooves and yelled an inaudible “Stop!” She immediately floated into the air and began circling her bewildered friends and franticly gesticulating to the forest around them. Over and over again, she yelped a plaintive message to the brush and rocks on either side of the path. “What’s going on?!” Rainbow Dash blurted toward their new orbiter. After several trips the yellow pony touched down behind the carriage and covered her face with her flowing mane. A low whisper came from under her matted pink shield, pleading, “Please don’t run away. Don’t do anything.” She hesitated. “I mean, if it’s okay—well, no, this time I think you shouldn’t anyway.” She was almost sobbing as she concluded, “I really don’t want you to get hurt, please, please don’t do anything!” The three friends stared confused. To their astonishment, Applejack’s face appeared out of a ditch—or was it a trench? “Whoa there, hold your horses,” she said urgently through her familiar drawl, “You can put that thing away, partner.” Big Macintosh loomed from behind a boulder, streaked with camouflage and shouldering a rocket launcher. “Eeyup?” he questioned as he lowered the gaping maw of his weapon down out of sight. Numerous Lunar troops peered out of their hiding places, unsure at the behavior of their comrades. Some gritted their teeth and eyed Rainbow Dash angrily. Despite her act of desertion, she still proudly bore her flight vest with gleaming Solar insignia, and no amount of firepower would convince her to remove it. “Hold your fire,” the NLR major ordered. “If any pony’s gonna kill ‘em, it’s gonna be me,” she growled from under her shrapnel-torn hat. Her hoof was seized on the trigger of her leveled rifle. She could carry out her threat. “Please, don’t give me a reason to shoot, or I swear I will.” “Don’t worry, we were actually looking for Republicans,” Twilight assured. Applejack lowered her gun and approached the carriage. “Bless all Luna’s stars, are you really deserting?” she asked with hope before her instincts made her wary again. “If this is a trick, it’s the cruelest thing there is. I can spot a trick, you know.” Captain Dash put her hoof to her chest and proclaimed boldly, “I’m not deserting! We’re here to negotiate, or something.” “I don’t technically represent the Empire right now,” Twilight clarified. “Actually, Solar troops are supposed to kill us, if that makes you happy.” Flashing a cautious smile, Applejack replied, “Ha! I always said I’d eat my hat the day you two wised up. I reckon you’ll pardon me for not making good on that.” “But we AREN’T deserting!” Rainbow Dash protested. “It’s not deserting ‘cause we…she is…um—“ she stopped herself. Twilight stepped in to bail out her zealous friend and explained, “What Dash is trying to say is that we’re still trying to serve Celestia. The real problem is that the sun won’t come up; that’s bad for everypony. Without the Empress’s direction, command has taken a reckless course, when we shouldn’t even be fighting at all. We came to discuss magic solutions for raising the sun with Princess Luna.” “For a second there, I actually thought you saw through the sun pony’s lies.” “More than it sounds like,” Twilight hinted. Major Applejack motioned to the trench and ordered, “Big Mac, will you get down here and tie down the wings on this here pegasus? And somepony get a cap on this witch horn.” “What are you doing?” Twilight objected, “We’re not captives, we’re here on parlay.” Major Applejack swung her rifle up and called loudly, “SURRENDER!” “Hey, what gives?!” Captain Dash exclaimed and only just kept herself from some foolish reflex. At a glance from Twilight she settled down. “Now you’re captured, see?” Applejack concluded, before she added, “This way my boys will have an easier time not shooting y’all.” The two Solars were motioned off of the carriage to be dealt with. Rainbow Dash grunted as the big red colt bound her tightly. A Rough Rider passed an odd ring device to Applejack, who proceeded to affix it on Twilight’s horn. Without special measures, keeping a magician captive is almost impossible. The “cap” was not foolproof, but it would make it much harder for her to use telekinetic powers. Applejack came around the side of the carriage to Rarity and hailed, “Howdy, Miss. Fancy seein’ you here. You put in with these no-good Solars?” “Yes, for old times’ sake, and to help them walk out on the Empire,” Rarity answered politely. “Well, in that case, it’s a real pleasure to see you again,” Applejack said pleasantly. Removing her hat, she offered, “It’s my honor to welcome you to our no-name camp. It may not suit a lady well, but we’ll treat you as good as we can.” “Eeyup,” Big Mac agreed. “I hope you know I didn’t mean what I said when we split ways,” Applejack continued apologetically. “I hope you won’t mind…” she held out a hoof. Rarity hopped down and invited jokingly, “Just keep it civil and mind the dress.” They hugged. Then Applejack spotted Fluttershy, still crouched behind the carriage hoping not to be seen. “Hey there, Fluttershy. Where’d you come from?” The yellow pegasus peeked up at her and whispered, “I followed you and I wanted to say hi, but I couldn’t, and then you were going to hurt them, and it was going to be awful, please don’t be mad at me.” “I ain’t mad, that was real good of you. Maybe even a little brave,” Applejack congratulated. “Really?” said Fluttershy, raising her head and giving a tentative smile. “Fluttershy, dear,” Rarity greeted, “We looked everywhere for you! I’m glad you’re alright—but really, you’re a mess.” Fluttershy’s mane was tangled and spots of leaves and mud stained her matted coat. She looked at herself and back at everyone, who was now looking at her. “Eeep!” she cried and dashed into a clump of bushes. “I’m in the middle of dealing with a situation,” Applejack commented to Rarity. “I would really appreciate for you to go after Fluttershy before we lose her again, as far as you can manage without getting too mussied up, I mean.” Without another word the unicorn trotted towards the foliage to calm the sensitive pony. “What in tarnation!?” Applejack blurted as she turned around and suddenly noticed Dusk. “You with the creepy eyes—you’re the one who was pesterin’ Luna. Who is this?” she demanded of Twilight. “Dusk is my test subject, or was,” Twilight started the deception. “Now she’s mixed up in this because she knows too much.” “I bet,” Applejack quipped. She pointed at Dusk and accused, “I was right you were no good, this proves it.” The truth as her shield, Twilight continued, “She was part of an interrupted experiment and it has left her in a bad state, so I hope you’ll go easy on her.” “Luna didn’t like what she had to say last time,” Applejack pointed out. “I’m not sure I—“ They were interrupted by an elated “Wooooooo!” that got louder as it rapidly approached. Pinkie Pie’s helmet bounced off of her head as she galloped through the woods from the back of the Lunar position to the site of the tense reunion. She screeched to a halt in front of Twilight and Rainbow Dash and started jumping around them excitedly, shouting, “YOU’RE BACK! YOU’RE BACK!” “Uh, Pinkie Pie, remember—“ Applejack interjected fruitlessly. The pink one came to rest in front of Twilight and said, “HI!” pushing her huge grin up next to the unicorn’s face. “Um, hi,” Twilight returned flatly. She was wholly unprepared for such a greeting. Pinkie tapped her hoof on the cap restraint and noted, “Ooh, you have bling. Remember to smile!” Twilight forced an uncertain smile just in time to have the air squeezed out of her in a giant bear hug. The party pony spun to face the rainbow pegasus and announced with building emphasis, “It’s Rainbow, Rainbow, RAINBOW—“ she exploded into a backflip as she cheered, “DASH!” Rainbow Rainbow Rainbow Dash smiled smugly and said, “Hey, Pinkie Pie.” Pinkie held out a hoof and Rainbow Dash answered. They launched into a frenetic series of choreographed motions as Pinkie Pie called out, “Shake it, pound it! High five, low, fake-out! Spin the record! Cock the pistol! Streamers, heil, party cannon, hacksaw! Ice the cupcake, outflank it, disarm it, eat it!” She held her hoof steady and said seriously, “Morsa—” Rainbow Dash finished, “—Muffins,” and they gave each other one last hoof-pound. “That’s our super-secret hoofshake,” Pinkie Pie explained to Twilight, and added with a wink, “You didn’t see anything.” “Ooh, you have a rope,” Pinkie cheerfully observed, as she began to notice the restrained wings and Solar insignia. Her buoyant cotton-candy mane suddenly popped and fell straight down around her face. She giggled nervously and kept her smile, but the giggle grew faint and strained, and ended like a whimper. “Because you’re captured. Because—“ her smile disappeared into an expression of pain and confusion. “You’re still a bad guy. And you make sonic rainbooms so your friends can kill my friends.” Terrible visions of the fight in the trenches filled her mind’s eye. Captain Dash nodded grimly. Pinkie Pie took a step back. Applejack shook her head and sighed, “That’s what I was trying to tell ya.” The disillusioned pony’s fear and anger rose, and she turned back to Doctor Sparkle. “You—you make evil voodoo stuff! You turn ponies into demon zombies! Like Mister Plinkers, and Big Mac had to shoot him!” Twilight stared blankly at her. She was still trying not to think about her research and its consequences. The Rough Riders, still with weapons trained on the newcomers, listened attentively to their favorite engineer’s denunciation. At last, they had two of their most conspicuous enemies in their sights, and after their losses some considered revenge. Pinkamena caught sight of Dusk and jumped beside her. “Did she do horrible experiments on you?” She reared back and commenced to sing in a shrill, desperate voice, “She’s an evil enchantress, who does evil dances! One look in her eye and she’ll put you in trances!” “Yes, I know,” Dusk interrupted. Gawking at the stranger’s black eyes, Pinkie demanded, “Did she get in your head? Does Big Mac need to shoot you? Big Mac, where’s your machine gun?” Dash quickly moved to shield Dusk from Pinkie and any potential bullets. Major Applejack sensed the situation getting out of hoof, and ordered loudly, “Calm down, Pinkie Pie! No pony is getting shot. Ya oughta be upset, REALLY upset,” she cut her eyes to Twilight, “but only filthy Solars kill their prisoners of war.” Pinkie Pie retreated to Big Mac and leaned on his side. “Ee…No…Whuh?” he slowly reacted. Major Applejack addressed her comrades, “These high-liners might have information vital to the war effort, and while they didn’t exactly repent of their evil ways, they did come voluntarily. You can be angry, but we can’t be double-crossers and we can’t turn down help.” A murmur of assent rose from the trenches. With the instigator silenced they remembered their duty and their honor. A distressed voice called out, “Applejack, Applejack!” AJ turned to Pinkie Pie and blurted, “Good gracious, what?!” “It’s not working!” Pinkamena fretted. “I’m leaning on Big Mac but I’m not feeling better!”
Loose FriendsChapter 25 Rarity carefully picked her way through the woods in search of her feral friend, dodging branches that menaced her special dress. She made for the thicket where she saw Fluttershy go into hiding. As Rarity approached she found the wall of poking sticks impenetrable. “Fluttershy?” she hailed. “Don’t follow me, you’ll get dirty,” came the still, small reply. Using her magic, the unicorn pushed aside the brush to clear herself a path into the thicket. The yellow pegasus was suddenly exposed and took a startled jump into the air. Her wings carried her over a ditch and into the crook of a leafy tree. Rarity followed, but illuminating the ditch showed that it was full of mud. “You’ll be a mess, just like me,” Fluttershy warned, dejectedly. Rarity paused a moment. She drew a deep breath and put a hoof into the mud. A low gasp came out of the tree. She continued forward until she was standing completely in the mud. Fluttershy noiselessly dropped down in front of her, motioned to her dress and worried, “Oh no, I’m so sorry.” The fashionista considered the brown stains on her clothes. “It’s nothing,” she assuaged. This dress was not nothing, but instead of being upset, she saw the poetic fulfillment of what it meant to her. “Why did you hide?” “Because I’m messy,” Fluttershy replied, still looking at the ground. “Now I’m messy too,” Rarity comforted. “What is it really?” The shy one glanced into her eyes, signaling she was ready to be transparent. “Because everypony is still mad. A few winters ago all my friends and the whole world got angry with each other, and wanted me to fight, so I ran away. I knew I should do something, but I was too shy. It’s my fault,” she whimpered. “It’s not like that,” Rarity said gently. “We all played a part in what happened. We made it hard for you, tried to make you all sorts of things. I know you tried to make us happy, but you couldn’t. That’s our fault.” “I wasn’t too shy,” she related. “I tried to tell them to stop being themselves so we could still be friends,” she confessed. “I tried to make Rainbow Dash not loyal, Twilight not a student of magic, and Applejack not honest. I tried to keep them from fighting for what they believed in, but in the end, I forgot what I believed in. I gave up on friends and went after my own selfish goals. When Twilight came to my door I realized I had become too caught up in things to be generous.” “Oh no, but that’s who you are!” Fluttershy exclaimed quietly. “I mean, if you want to be… What did you do?” Rarity continued, “I remembered what was important and that a gift isn’t given because someone deserves it. So I gave up my dreams to help her and here we are.” She shrugged her soiled dress. “Now all we can do is be ourselves and be generous and kind.” “You’re right. But I’m not sure, I mean, all those ponies will be looking at me…” Fluttershy trailed off nervously. “And you’ll look fine,” Rarity said, taking out her jeweled brush. She began to comb the leaves and tangles out of the pink hairs. Fluttershy twitched at the sensation, which she hadn’t felt in years. When she was finished, the unicorn invited, “Now let’s do our thing together, like we should have. Only I’ll make sure I’m the center of attention.” The prisoners had been brought behind the Lunar position and were under guard while the officers discussed the situation. Big Mac had left Pinkie Pie’s uninvited cuddle, but she still sat by the road disconsolate. She looked up and found herself in front of old friends. “Rarity? Fluttershy?” They smiled at her. She hid her face while she wiped a tear and summoned a grin. Popping back up, she piped, “Oh yay, I’m so happy to see you!” “Don’t,” Rarity interrupted. Pinkamena slumped her shoulders and looked down. She was always so cheerful when she met ponies she liked, but she wasn’t this time. “But I was trying to be Pinkie,” she sobbed. “It’s okay. Don’t try to be any different for us,” Fluttershy reassured. “It’s okay to be angry and scared. We’re your friends, and we’re here for you anyway.” She confided in a whisper, “I’m scared too.” Rarity reinforced the timid pony with a gentle pat. “Are you upset because of Rainbow Dash and Twilight?” Fluttershy prompted. Pinkie nodded. “I don’t understand. How could they be so bad? They were my friends, and I thought they were good. How could they do all these bad things?” Fluttershy summoned the nerve to ask, “Did you have to do any bad things?” A lump formed in Pinkie’s throat. She couldn’t bear to watch her memories where it actually happened, but she could see her and Applejack meeting afterwards. They did what they were supposed to do, but when they saw each other she was ashamed to be seen that way. Her thousand-yard stare turned to a pained but resolute frown. “Yeah, but we had to,” she defended. “Applejack said it was good because we were right.” As if to make it true, she pleaded, “I was good!” “You’re right,” Rarity validated. “You should have done those things.” Fluttershy admitted, “We didn’t do anything,” and shifted nervously. Rarity opened her mouth but restrained herself. After a moment she subtly agreed, and the two bowed slightly, laying themselves under Pinkie’s judgment. “Do you forgive us?” Fluttershy asked. Pinkie Pie softened again and sniffed, “Yeah.” Fluttershy related, “Rainbow Dash and Twilight tried to be good, but they were wrong. Will you forgive them?” Pinkamena knew she wanted to, but she couldn’t. “I can’t be their friend when they’re still bad,” Pinkie protested. “That would be bad.” “Quite right,” Rarity affirmed. “But they’re here because they know they were wrong, and they want to help. When you’re ready, let’s go see them.” Pinkie mumbled, “I already said hi.” “You greeted the ponies you wished they were,” Rarity corrected. “If you don’t welcome them as they really are, you haven’t welcomed them at all.” “But they don’t deserve it,” Pinkie reminded. “No,” Rarity simply replied. “You’ll only tell Luna?” Applejack repeated with rising frustration. “I’ve been through this before. If you don’t recall, Luna didn’t approve of what you had to tell.” Twilight shot Celestia an urgent “why didn’t you tell me” look, and covered her ignorance by again insisting, “This is about the sun. She needs to hear what we know.” “Well, she said this one isn’t to come near her again, and I assured her I wouldn’t allow it,” the major averred. “Now you’re put in with her and you say, ‘I’ll only tell Luna’! Are you tryin to make me a liar?” “Dusk” stepped in to assert, “Luna reacted that way because she didn’t believe me. It was crazy for a random pegasus to say. Surely you’ll believe that if anyone knows where Celestia is (emphasis added for Twilight’s sake), it’s Twilight Sparkle.” “This is awful fishy,” the cautious major complained. “Of course we’re not telling you the whole truth,” Twilight boldly admitted. “The real information is so sensitive that it would be irresponsible to tell anyone but Luna, if it’s not a mistake to tell her. Let her hear me and then do with us what she will, just please trust me.” “Trust YOU?” Applejack repeated doubtfully. Twilight acknowledged, “I know it’s thin, but that’s all we have.” Applejack withdrew to Big Mac’s side. Tipping her hat to hide her freckled face from the familiar outsiders, she whispered to him in low tones. Pinkie Pie in tow, Rarity and Fluttershy approached. Fluttershy seized up and wouldn’t move forward into the gathering of soldiers. The unicorn ringleader assured, “I’ll handle this.” She cinched her dress tighter around the waist, and flicked mud up onto her immaculate tail. She had learned that talent and fashion sense could only take you so far. She explained to her shocked companions, “Time to slut up or shut up. Only, be sure to make your move—there won’t be a repeat performance.” The voluptuous unicorn stumbled in amongst the units as if wounded. She wilted melodramatically with her hoof across her forehead and wailed, “Oh, this mud is awful! My dress is ruined, my favorite dress! What will I ever do?” All heads turned to her. Shortly, several gravitated towards the irresistible pull of a lady in distress. A dashing young rough rider was the first to offer, “Is there anything I can do to help, ma’am?” Another colt, middle-aged but suave, shouldered past him and said, “Of course there is, private. Go fetch this lady a pail of water and some soap.” He added insincerely, “And be quick about it,” as the private turned to leave and the two cut eyes at each other. As if too distraught to support herself, she leaned towards the officer and steadied herself against him with a hoof on his medaled chest. “It’s such a terrible wilderness, what a relief to find a gentleman out here,” she complimented glibly. She glanced towards the prisoners, and was satisfied to see Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie slip unobtrusively to their targets. Unsure how to begin, Pinkamena mumbled, “Um, hi.” “Oh hey,” Rainbow Dash answered. “I didn’t think you were coming back, either of you.” “We just wanted to say…” Pinkie began, and froze up. “Hi.” “…Hi…?” Twilight responded with equal uncertainty. At Fluttershy’s prompting, Pinkie uttered the touching sentiment, “I don’t really want Big Mac to shoot you.” Rainbow Dash huffed sarcastically, “That’s a relief.” Fluttershy worried to herself, “Am I failing again? Is everyone watching me?” They weren’t, for now. Rarity could see that Fluttershy was still intimidated. She would have to keep up a fuss until she could be sure nothing would interrupt her friends’ important moment. The private returned improbably quickly, sloshing the water in his helmet as he rode to Rarity’s rescue. The Manehattanite officer proposed, “Do you need me to help you out of that outfit, so we can wash it?” A less experienced temptress would have acceded, but with a sly smile she realized it would take longer to clean if she was still wearing it. “Oh, but I lost my suitcase and I don’t have anything else to wear.” The country soldier took the opportunity to advance, “That’s alright, ma’am, we can fix you right up,” and put a stained fringe of the garment into his improvised wash bucket. “Oh what a relief, it will come out,” Rarity remarked, observing his progress. He started farther from her body but worked his way close to her flanks and under her. As he rubbed at the mud underneath, he could have been milking her. The officer’s eyes bulged out with jealousy. Those who weren’t distracted with Rarity were interested in their comrades’ rivalry. The private finished and she thanked him warmly, before he was told, “Resume your watch on the south side, we can’t be complacent.” The officer’s move was soon rewarded, as Rarity requested, “My tail is all dirty! Usually I would use a mirror to fix it, but there don’t seem to be any in this awful place. Would you be so kind?” “Certainly, madam,” he eagerly replied. He took out a kerchief, dipped it in the water, and began to stroke her swirled tail. He gently eased out the impurities and to his credit managed not to disrupt its sculpted form—but he did spend undue attention on the base of her tail. A colt nearby turned and clutched loyally to a picture of his sweetheart back home. Applejack cocked an eyebrow and murmured, “Looks like the big city loosened her up. Never thought she’d get so tawdry.” Fluttershy nudged her pink companion. “You did a lot of bad things,” Pinkie Pie continued. “Yeah?” Captain Dash acknowledged gruffly. “It’s not their fault, it’s Celestia,” Dusk interceded. “She made them do it.” Twilight shot her a sideways glance with raised eyebrows. Celestia shrugged. “She tricked us pretty well,” Twilight recognized, “but sometimes we chose not to see the truth.” “Yeah, we know what we did,” Captain Dash agreed woefully. “Are you sorry?” Pinkie asked. “Yes,” Doctor Sparkle sincerely answered. “I’m sorry for all the dark magic I’ve done for Celestia, and I’m sorry for turning on you.” Listening to herself, she shook her head. “An apology just isn’t enough.” “Are you going to be good now?” Pinkie asked once more. Rainbow Dash decided, “I’ll try, but I don’t know what that means anymore.” Pinkie Pie cut her anger loose and said, “I forgive you.” “Me too,” Fluttershy added softly. “Really? Wow,” Dash marveled. Rarity allowed her new devotee a sultry gaze before a heavy-set engineer took her wandering attention. It was not his build but his cigarettes that drew her. The officer watched in consternation as she sidled up to the big colt and entreated, “Do you have a smoke for a lady?” He figured his first thought, “Hell yeah,” would be inappropriate, so he replied with a winsome grin and held out three of the precious rollups. He lit them both up and they sat smoking together. She pretended not to notice that he was scruffy and uncouth, or perhaps even let her demeanor suggest she thought it was charming. Taking a deep breath, he snorted a smoke ring out one nostril. She graced the strange behavior with a reserved laugh—and honestly, smoke-play did interest her. The males nearby were astonished that Humphrey Heaver could make a connection with a refined lady, and their faith was renewed that everypony has a chance. Pinkamena peeked up at her curly mane, which had somehow piled itself on her head again. “I’m Pinkie Pie again!” she exclaimed, and pulled Fluttershy into a tight embrace. “Eeep!” the startled pegasus cried, and wilted in Pinkie’s hooves. “We should be friends again,” Private Pie cheerfully suggested. Applejack, alerted by the pink one’s outburst, marched to the scene and demanded, “What’s goin’ on? I thought I told you to leave them alone.” Pinkie Pie unloaded, “I did, but Rarity and Fluttershy brought me back and I forgave them and I’m Pinkie Pie again!” The major was taken aback. “Whoa, hold on, they’re still Solars! How can you trust ‘em?” “They know they were bad, and now we can help them do the right thing,” Pinkie explained. “I don’t know if we should take them to Luna,” Applejack cautioned. “I don’t trust ‘em.” Rarity overheard the conversation and quickly excused herself from her male company to join her friends. “Do you trust me?” she asked Applejack. “Do you trust us?” The cowgirl could hardly believe her eyes as Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Fluttershy, Twilight, and Rainbow Dash looked at her plaintively, begging for a favorable ruling. “Oh no, we are not a ‘us’!” she protested. They were together again, and it had to mean something, though she was afraid to admit it. At last she half-conceded, “I’m gonna wait to hear what Luna has to say about them.” Celestia’s slight smile understated her reaction at seeing what she had torn apart coming back together. “Thanks, Fluttershy,” Rainbow Dash communicated privately. “That, uh, took balls.” Fluttershy blushed, and thought for a second. “Oh—oh, yes I know. Rarity helped me.” “I meant jumping in front of that ambush…?” the Solar soldier clarified. “Oh,” the timid pegasus understood.
Party KillerChapter 26 Applejack just finished a discussion with two other officers, in which they came to an agreement as to their course of action. “Chow time, everypony gather round!” Pinkie Pie called out. “What do you mean, we’re each carrying our own rations,” Applejack objected as she followed the sound—and the lights. She stared at the incongruous scene behind her smiling comrade with disbelief. “What the…” “Oh, I gathered stuff from everyone, but I didn’t want to bother you. I’m throwing a party!” “Now?!” the major protested. “How does that make sense?” “Well, I was so happy to have my friends back, I couldn’t help myself!” Private Pinkie bubbled. “We’ll have to eat before we go anyway. And the troops could use a morale boost.” “Well that’s true, but I’m not sure it would work,” Applejack expressed, and gave a critical eye to the bright party pavilion that had somehow appeared. Tarps had been strung up between trees and glow sticks were suspended on strings. A disco ball hung in the middle of the enclosure and radiated little beams of the light that struck it. What could be putting off that ridiculous light? Fumblemore was a unicorn, but his lack of talent prevented him from qualifying as a combat magician; he had joined as regular infantry. Now he sat with his horn pulsing brightly in many colors. He was wearing a vacuous smile as if entranced with his own display. “Private, this is dangerous. We’re kinda hiding!” Applejack reacted with disbelief. “Oh, that’s what Big Mac said, that’s why we put the tarps up. I’ve got two pegasi who say it doesn’t really stick out from the air,” the party planner reported proudly. “Hm, well, if Big Mac is satisfied,” Applejack conceded. Pinkie nodded to somepony behind her. The red stallion gave a reserved “Eeyup.” They went in together and found Applejack’s famous friends eating… something. Pinkie Pie served out a moist, soft substance she didn’t recognize. “What in Equestria is this?” “Cake!” Pinkie claimed. “I made it from MREs and some stuff, Sugarcube Corner style.” The major took a cautious bite. “Hm. It’s the strangest cake I’ve ever tasted, but it still beats the usual grub.” As confused but hungry soldiers gathered to the site, Fluttershy put a wing over Dusk and cooed, “It’s alright. I know all these ponies are probably making you nervous, but it’s okay.” The wild pegasus was transferring her own flighty feelings, and using her caretaker instincts to calm herself down, treating the odd little pony like one of her critters. Twilight, Rainbow Dash, and Rarity stared and their jaws dropped. Celestia remained quiet and did not protest the ridiculous treatment. She had endured almost as much from Derpy, and Fluttershy could be even sweeter. “I’m here, so you don’t have to be afraid of anything,” she continued. “Here, you should have some cake.” Dusk accepted it with a timid smile. Fluttershy looked up at the shocked Solars and scolded, “Don’t stare, you’ll scare her.” Celestia winked. Rarity’s face twitched. Dash looked to Twilight, who said, “I… uhm…” as she had no professional response for this situation. “What’s goin’ on?” Applejack asked. “NOTHING!” the three of them blurted, which earned them a suspicious squint. “Dinner and a show, that’s what’s going on!” Pinkie Pie announced, pulling a record player out of somewhere. “Where did that come from? How is that ‘emergency supplies’?!” the major griped. Pinkie took the cord and looped it over Fumblemore’s horn. He had to exert himself to power it and continue the technicolor flashes, but now that his magic was on display he was committed. She set Vinyl Scratch spinning, as she headed for the middle of the party, everyone automatically cleared a space for her. Her hooves moved like she was the living embodiment of the music as she began to dance. Just how high that tune went, how fast it beat, and how crazy it spun was just what she was there to be. And it went dirty. “Wait, Pinkie!” Applejack called out helplessly. “Aw no,” she facehoofed. “Well I think it’s cute,” Rarity chuckled at first. “Oh!” She put her hoof to her mouth. “Private Pie, don’t do that with that tree, you don’t even know what that means!” the major shouted more insistently, so the Pinkie show moved on without skipping a beat. “Dadgum it, that’s not any better,” Applejack winced. She turned to the rest of her friends, and with a look of exhaustion, apologized, “She doesn’t mean nothin’ by it, she just saw it somewhere and thought it was cool. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep her grounded by myself? This is what happens when y’all leave.” Fluttershy didn’t know what was going on. Her only complaint was that it was too loud. Applejack and Rarity surveyed the onlookers. Some of the Rough Riders had moved away or turned the brims of their hats to the unseemly spectacle, but most of the soldiers took it in greedily. The major lamented, “The principles… the discipline…” Then they saw a similar sly smile on Dash’s face. Rarity was taken aback, and gave a look of dismay that Applejack took to mean, “Even I have standards.” “You are NOT thinking what it looks like you’re thinking!” Applejack challenged, defensive of her naïve pink comrade. “Actually I was thinking if you let me loose I could take this up a notch—and bail you out before you shoot that record player,” Dash bargained. “You think you can top Pinkie? You’d lose a dance war,” the major warned. Dash kept up a smug confidence. “I guess I’ve gotta see this,” Applejack decided, and started to untie the pegasus. Captain Dash shook off the ropes and boasted, “A Solar Scout doesn’t lose.” The freed captive was met with distrust from the other soldiers, who made as though they would drop their cake to take out their weapons and keep vigilant guard. Applejack rolled her eyes and ordered, “At ease, I’ll handle it,” pulling out her revolver. The colorful pegasus stretched her wings a few times to restore circulation and sauntered over to the turntable. She gave it a calculated kick that shifted the speed of the record. The new sound fit less with the sexy city swing and called for a more athletic routine which would favor the stunt flyer. She started to take in the movement of the music. Once she got the beat, she headed for her exuberant friend. Dash took off and gave a flip, and everyone did a double-take to make sure they were seeing what they thought they were seeing. She was dancing upside down, using the top of the makeshift pavilion as a floor. She joined Pinkie in busting a sick groove, matching the party pony step for step. Together they made a bizarre, mirrored duet that amplified the rhythm like a music video. Twilight had been deep in thought, but the spectacle caught her attention and made her smile. The Pinkie Pie didn’t worry for a moment that she had been upstaged—anything that took the party higher only added to her excitement. She raved harder, leaving Dash struggling to keep up. Going vertical looked like so much fun, and gravity could only hold her back so long. Rainbow freestyled her own jig while Pinkie Pie folded out a small trampoline. Then they were both airborne, as the energetic earth pony lobbed herself up around Dash repeatedly. Despite the new dynamic, they both kept rhythm. Dash lost her cool expression to a huge grin. They “danced” around each other for a while before learning to dance with each other in an unprecedented new style. Dash moved in a smooth, continuous electro-waltz with a partner who only existed beside her half the time, and in a new orientation at each bounce. Everyone was entranced by the freak phenomenon. Twilight burst out laughing at her friends’ theatrical antics. As the song built up into a crescendo, Pinkie Pie launched herself on top of the disco ball. Before she reached it, Dash was flying towards the bottom of the shimmering orb to meet her. They struck a pose mirroring each other for one mind-blowing moment, and then the cord holding them up snapped. They crashed to the ground in front of Applejack and shattered the disco ball to pieces. As the music ran out, Pinkie Pie laughed, “That has got to be more than 20% cooler!” Dash, still pinned under her, agreed, “So—*hurk*—awesome!” They gave each other a weak hoof-pound. Applejack chuckled. Then she sighed, and remarked, “Well, that went just about like the real war.” Pinkie Pie cleared the stars from her head. Then she bounced up and announced, “Time for presents!” Everypony stared at her. The major cuffed Dash’s wings again and remarked, “Ya know, Pinks, there ain’t a present you could give these troops that they’d want right now.” Pinkie Pie cocked her eyebrow and shot Applejack a look that said, “Challenge Accepted,” before her expression reverted to its usual plain smile. “Guess who found the mail that came in hours before the battle!” she exclaimed as she produced a sack of correspondence. The soldiers took real interest and crowded around her for the chance to receive precious word from their family and friends. Of course, there were only a few letters addressed to those who happened to be there, but each one was a treasure. Some received them with excitement, others with tears. Some read aloud with their combat buddies. The bringer of tidings finally came around to Applejack and hoofed her an irregular scrap of paper with a few words scrawled on it. “Woof woof, lick. Winona,” Applejack read doubtfully. “Yeah, okay, I wrote that one, I just felt bad I didn’t have anything for you,” Pinkie admitted lamely. A worried expression came over Applejack’s face and she suddenly seemed ill. “I’d do anything to hear from the folks. I don’t even know if they’re alive. I think I saw fire comin’ up from Ponyville, and what I heard ain’t good. By Harmony, they better be alright.” “I heard everyone was evacuated,” Dusk informed. AJ’s countenance brightened, but she guarded her feelings somewhat to examine the strange pony she had almost forgotten. “Oh yeah?” For her own amusement, Dusk added, “Yeah, and do you know who helped everypony out? Trixie Trotter.” The major drew a blank for a good minute. “Oh yeah?!” She shook her head with wonder. “I’ll be… That’s enough to confuse a girl from pen to pasture.” She squinted knowingly at the odd pegasus and said, “And she’s a Solar spy to boot. She was with you, after all. Damn, everything’s backwards.” Speaking of which, she turned to her Best Frenemy Forever, Captain Rainbow Dash. “Hey you.” Pinkie Pie watched them with hushed expectation as her brilliant master plan was coming to fruition. “As long as we’re here I guess we’re supposed to be catchin’ up and bondin’,” Applejack conceded, “but I won’t do it like a pussy.” Though it was an invitation, she took a grim demeanor. “You know we’ve changed, and I know where the real stuff is. We’ve gone through shit, so much it’s fubar, so if we’re really supposed to be friends, we’re gonna bring it out. What’s your worst op? What messed you up?” Dash was silent a moment. Still resenting the wing restraints, she was reluctant to give in any further. Applejack knew she would not back down from any kind of competition. “Tell ya what, I’ll go first, but you better not give me something weak.” Imperceptible to the others, Dash agreed. “I haven’t told this to anyone, though I think Big Mac figured it out.” She had a pretense for bringing it up, but she was actually glad to get it off her chest. Rarity listened with concern. Despite her real feelings, she could not help but project an air of confirmed suspicion, as though she were wise for avoiding the conflict. Applejack began her narrative. “I knew a colt, a good colt, somebody I respected… but he lost somebody and started to go downhill. We were infiltrating through the White Tail Woods, moving cautiously. We knew the enemy was out there somewhere, but we were days in without contact. We all took shifts scouting ahead while the main group laid low, and moved when it was clear. We both got sent to clear different areas. I saw nothin’ till I came back—and found him sitting just a little ways from the others doing some kind of drug he’d picked up from another company. I pick him up, wipe him off, and start giving him a piece of my mind, but I laid off when the lieutenant trotted up. He said there was a hunter-killer team to the north so we needed to move fast, and asked if the valley was clear. ‘Yes sir,’ that wasted colt told him. I meant to deal with the fella in private, and things were urgent, and—“ Applejack looked down. “I guess I didn’t say anything. We all rushed into that valley right on top of a platoon of Solars. They were just as surprised, and we routed ‘em, but their backup tore us up good and chased us till nightfall. Afterwards I asked him in front of the lieutenant, ‘Did you check that valley?’ and I looked him straight in the eye as he said ‘yes’. That’s where I learned what a lie looks like—that nasty mix of fear and audacity. I guess I’m to blame, damnit, how could I not stand up for the truth?” “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Fluttershy offered, but it seemed painfully empty coming from someone who hadn’t been in the war. Celestia cowered away from the tales of woe that she had caused. “That’s pretty fubar,” Captain Dash validated. “Geez, my worst op?” She winced and grimaced. She weighed her options to see if there was something she could tell that would be both sufficiently screwed up and winsome to Lunar ears. “I could tell you about a mission that went sideways, but that’s not it.” She took a breath and began ruefully. “Cloudsdale. Nothing makes you feel like shit like shooting up your hometown. Reclaiming… liberating… that’s what we called it. But more pegasi than we thought had gone over, and we pegasi were always warriors—what we had to do to take the city…” she explained, shaking her head. “I couldn’t believe it. There wasn’t much left when we were done. I was proud of that place more than Canterlot, but if I ever see another red cloud… To be a part of something like that, to break your own race and kill your own dreams… You know I’d always wanted to perform with the Wonderbolts in the big stadium. When I flew through the ruins, Zeze applauded and laughed. I didn’t let on, but I just fucking died inside.” “Yeah, that’s fubar alright,” Applejack agreed, respecting her old enemy’s regrets. “Pinkie Pie knows what we’re talking about. She got through the first war pretty clean—sorta—but she joined the club yesterday.” Pinkie Pie had listened in sympathetic silence. “What’s fubar?” she asked innocently. Applejack gave a sour, restrained expression. Rainbow Dash gladly spelled out the meaning of the acronym. “Fucked Up Beyond All Repair. Or Recognition, I’ve heard both.” She was afraid to ask, but did anyway, “What’s your story.” Pinkie Pie bit her lip and looked away. Applejack steadied her friend with a hoof. “I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but it helps. I can say it for ya.” “I wasn’t with her some of the time, but she had her first real combat in the trenches yesterday. She probably came down especially hard after it got her up so high,” the major said, shying away from “it” with a measure of regret for having brought up the topic. Captain Dash whispered, “Sonic Rainboom.” “Yeah, that. Put her back in that innocent, joyful place, ya know. Like we all were when we got our cutie marks. And then it was killin’ time.” Dash hung her head and stretched her wing back slightly as if she would cover up her personal emblem. Applejack recovered, “I ain’t hatin’, except maybe on the war. I guess that’s part of all our fubar stories. None of us thought we’d end up using our special talents that way.” “Anyway, it didn’t help Pinks that she’s friends with everypony. One of our own, someone she knew, attacked us. His mind was all screwed up with dark magic shit.” Applejack couldn’t help but cut her eyes at Doctor Sparkle, but she looked away before Twilight saw. “Almost killed her, but Big Mac dropped him. You’ll never hear my brother cryin’ about it,” she diverged, turning to him. The stallion had been right there, but had been almost invisible from his sheer silence. She locked eyes with him for a moment in a sympathetic gaze. “I know you’re gonna carry that weight.” Pinkie Pie stood sobbing softly with tightly closed eyes. “I’m sorry I’m part of your fubar story,” Dash apologized solemnly. On behalf of all of them, Applejack reasoned, “It’s alright. I mean, it’s all messed up shit. But we’re not that different. We never wanted to let each other down and fight each other, but that’s how it happened. If you think about it, we soldiers aren’t fighting each other as much as the war. I reckon we’re all survivors, but none of us get away without losing a part of ourselves.” Pinkie Pie looked up at Rainbow Dash and nodded. Twilight finally approached the group, and confessed, “Pinkie Pie was right earlier. It’s also my fault, but that’s my fubar story too.” Before she could say what she meant, Applejack shot back, “You don’t know the pain we’re talkin’ about. It’s a soldier thing.” Twilight was taken aback. She was about to share her private death, hoping for some kind of solace, but all the acceptance seemed to have run out just as she arrived. She took a backward step and a gasping breath as something more than insecurity began to surface. “I held it down until now, why can’t I hold—this can’t happen,” she muttered under her breath. Dusk pushed out from under Fluttershy’s wing and warned, “Wait, don’t—“ Captain Dash joined in with annoyance, “Yeah, you’ve never seen the front lines, just stayed walled off from everything behind your books.” Twilight was trembling and stammering, “I’m—no!” Then she snapped. “I don’t know pain?! I’LL TEACH YOU PAIN!” she yelled in a deep, unnatural voice. Her eyes filled with bright, polluted energy and as she sprang forward, black lightning snaked out towards her friends. Streams of cold ether whipped about as the hostile magic spread from Twilight through the whole company. It coursed into them with an icy tearing sensation and afflicted their hearts. All cried out with agony as the shadow that gripped them rallied every evil within them to torture their minds. They were all transfixed and helpless for what seemed an eternity, though it was not long. Then the dark magic dropped them to the ground and returned, still hungry, to Doctor Sparkle. She screamed and convulsed as the shadow sprites bit through her and wormed around her skin. Fighting half-frozen joints, she staggered out of the tent, gritting her teeth, growling, and screaming again. A terrified, enraged soldier picked up a gun and chased her out. With sheer desperation to stop the act, Rainbow Dash broke free of the influence first and jumped to intervene. The soldier gnashed his teeth and aimed his weapon, but Dash dropped into his sights. “Don’t shoot!” Dash barked. “Are you going to kill me?!” The gun shook in the other warrior’s hooves. “Are you going to kill me?!” Dash repeated, exasperated. The selfless act stunned the mad colt. He blinked and coughed as the effect of the possession waned. He dropped his gun and began to vomit on the ground. Twilight fled to the edge of the camp, where she collapsed as the evil constricted around her. The other friends joined Rainbow Dash outside. “What did she do? Where’d she go?” Applejack asked. Dash pointed and urgently informed, “I don’t know, but it’s hurting her too. She doesn’t look good.” “Damnit, she’s the one who knows magic! What are we supposed to do?” Applejack said with anxious frustration. “Celestia only knows,” Dash replied automatically. Dash and Rarity exchanged a glance and ran back in to pick Dusk up to her hooves. “What do we do? You have to know!” Celestia’s protector demanded. The troubled soul had more to endure from the attack, but this was not her first time and she recovered herself to give answer. “It’s dark magic; there isn’t a spell to counter it, only Harmony.” The two assisted her out to the others and towards Twilight as Dash inquired further, “How does that help? The Elements are back in Canterlot!” “No, it’s you,” Dusk claimed. “‘Friendship is magic.’ You’re all linked, remember?” She quickly analyzed the facts. “It’s something that’s been inhabiting her. I think the only thing that kept it from appearing earlier was your loyalty. When that slipped, even for a moment, she was vulnerable. Now she needs all five of you together.” The six of them approached the spot where the magician had fallen. She flailed about, writhing on the ground in uncontrollable spasms and hyperventilating. As they approached, she gave a threatening, unpony yowl—then screamed in pain again. They gathered around her, but at a safe distance. “Do your thing—quickly,” Dusk urged. “I don’t know what to do, I’ve been tellin’ nothin’ but the truth all night,” Applejack puzzled. “How could I be any more loyal?” Dash asked, and called out, “Come on, Twilight, I believe in you!” “That’s good, I think you covered it when you defended her,” Dusk reasoned. Pinkie Pie tried a weak, “Ha…” but couldn’t really laugh at this terrible time. “But I have to, for Twilight!” she thought. In denial of the situation, she twisted her face until it formed her familiar Pinkie-grin and she dug deep for a hearty guffaw. “No, wait, don’t laugh at her now!” Celestia scolded. “I don’t think that’s how it works. I know you made her laugh earlier, hopefully it’s a residual effect.” Pinkamena lapsed into helpless uncertainty. Rarity observed aloud, “It felt so cold—she must be cold.” She hastily inspected a nearby tent and returned with a blanket. She levitated it over the suffering unicorn and dropped it onto her gently, *giving* it to her. Twilight’s thrashing quickly pushed the blanket off of her; it would have provided little warmth to one cold from the inside anyway. “I feel so weak,” Rarity lamented. Fluttershy told herself, “Um, kindness. Kindness.” She approached Doctor Sparkle to find some way of showing the compassion that was already welling up inside her. The body before her, however, was turning a darker color than Twilight beneath its abusive covering of shadows. The thing lunged at her, swiping a hoof at her and stretching its neck to snap its long black teeth at her. Fluttershy dodged backwards and flew behind Rainbow Dash, and it collapsed again. “We can’t get any closer without honesty,” Dash alerted. “But—I—“ Applejack stammered. Celestia could only barely grasp what was required, but she did know—she had a dim understanding of Harmony from the time she had spent fighting it. “Applejack, the truth doesn’t always have to hurt,” she claimed. “How do you really feel about her? And Pinkie—I don’t think crying with your friend who’s hurting is a bad thing; it’s not the opposite of laughter.” Pinkamena finally gave herself permission to bawl and weep. Applejack stepped forward and said loudly, “Alright, listen here, Twilight. I, uh… I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I was wrong. The war’s hurt you just as much as the rest of us, maybe more. I know you probably blame yourself, like I do, and of course you’re responsible for what you’ve done. I just don’t want you to punish yourself for it, not because that wouldn’t be fair, but ‘cause…” Applejack paused a moment and realized the truth she hadn’t admitted, “’Cause I care about you, Twilight. I got real angry. I tried not to miss you, not to care about you, but I still do.” Celestia’s eyes widened, and she took a step back. “That’s good, you all keep it up,” she encouraged weakly. With their focus on Twilight, the old, twisted alicorn snuck away slowly. Then she turned and retreated headlong into the woods. The Twilight thing pawed sideways at the ground, pushing itself back from the threat. Fluttershy approached gingerly from the side, and it growled menacingly. The shy one stopped but stood her ground. “Oh, Twilight, I’m your friend. We love you, remember?” she pleaded in her sweet and soothing voice. Rarity came right in front of the tormented magician to look her in her terrifying eyes. “I don’t have any things to give you that will help you,” she admitted. “Perhaps I can give you a reprieve,” she suggested, taking a resolute stance. “If you can, send it back into me so I can hold the hurt for a little while.” The thing grinned savagely and jumped off at her. It would make her regret the offer. It impacted Rarity, flipping her backwards and sideways to dash her head against the ground. With her mental defenses down, she was vulnerable to its equally damaging spiritual attacks. Twilight gasped and stared stunned at her friend’s sacrifice. In an instant Fluttershy was pressed against her, nuzzling her neck and spreading a wing over her. The thing burst out of Rarity with a scream. It was appalled to discover that it was wrong about the mortal, and understood that something quite impossible was happening. It filled Twilight again and growled at Fluttershy. The supposedly fearful pony still embraced the dangerous being, softly insisting, “We forgive you for those things you did. I’m your friend, and you can’t make me not love you.” The thing was too weak to strike back. Rarity lifted herself partially off the ground and she raised her bruised head with the same resolution as before. It could not make her regret her choice. “Do you need to do it again?” she offered through the pain. Twilight was gaining control, and she remembered instinctively what she must do. Only the smallest spark of her magic would be needed. She could feel the thing’s cold grip all over her, but it stopped moving—frozen in fear! Thoughts came to her. If she did this, she would completely cut herself off from dark magic. The magical knowledge and prowess that she had acquired over two years of demanding research would be lost. Currently she was powerful, so powerful she could take out an entire company of soldiers despite the inhibitor on her horn. Now that it faced a lethal threat for trying to take over, she could perhaps turn it to her will more easily. She didn’t know whether the thoughts were hers, but it didn’t matter. This was never the kind of magician she had wanted to be. She didn’t want power like this that hurt her and her friends. She would be much weaker on her own, but not with her friends. Why would she preserve this awful thing when Harmony was right there? She closed her eyes. A tremendous screech sounded and black lightning burst out of her, disintegrating in flashes of light. The invisible shockwave blasted the cold away from the camp, and warmth rose up from the ground. Twilight opened her eyes, which glowed pure and radiant. She returned Fluttershy’s affections for a moment and then stood up. She was overflowing with a power that was not her own, a good power. She looked at Rarity. The white unicorn’s face healed and the splitting ache in her head went away. More importantly, everything that was wrong inside was healed, and in every way that the darkness had violated her she felt complete and loved. The NLR fighters had gathered to the site, and had been held back by Rainbow Dash and Applejack. Now Harmony burst out of Twilight in all directions, filling all nearby with peace and wholesome strength. All of the ill effects of the earlier attack were reversed and surpassed. “Hee hee, that tickles!” Pinkie Pie piped, and rolled about laughing. Too soon the presence passed, and Twilight was her normal self again—her normal self from years ago, before she had given herself over to the night horrors. Her friends all hugged her and they broke down laughing and crying. At last extricating herself from her friends, Twilight found Celestia at the edge of the camp where she was hiding. “What are you doing back here?” she asked. Celestia stared at the ground and reminded, “I can’t take being around the Elements.” Even as she spoke she leaned away from her old student as if her presence was uncomfortable. “They were the only thing that could dispel the dark magic, but it feels like I would die if I got too close.” Twilight kept her distance, but with a gentle magic touch signaled her helper to look up at her. They locked eyes for a moment and Twilight said, “Thank you.” What did Celestia expect her to say? But gratitude seemed inappropriate. “Don’t thank me,” the ash one insisted. “I did this to you in the first place.” Twilight’s temper rose as she remembered the years of manipulation and horrible “research”. “Fuck you,” she conceded. “That’s more like it,” thought the duskling. That was reality: FUBAR. The unicorn’s anger passed quickly. It fled from the feeling inside her; it was the warmth of her healing by the Elements. She reconsidered, and decided that she would not let Celestia make this choice for her. “No, actually, thank you,” Twilight said finally. Celestia shook her head. Twilight turned and walked away, leaving her with that same sentiment, now more disconcerting for being so deliberate. “Why did she have to do that?” she complained to no one. It shouldn’t have been troubling, but there was something about it. “She ought to hate me,” Celestia said, realizing what it was that bothered her. She did not deserve anyone’s thanks. Everyone should be trying to help her raise the sun, but no one should care about her. Looking back, she had received some of the actions of Derpy and Trixie with a vain sense of entitlement. Each time, they had worn her down to accept their kindness as such. (It was still kindness from Trixie, even though it was rough around the edges.) However, when they parted, she had tried to pay them back. Now that she had given up her internal charade and recognized herself as Celestia, she couldn’t stop thinking how they should have despised her. Their undeserving graces were wonderful but unnerved her somehow. Whatever it was, she hadn’t felt it for a couple thousand years. The company had been on the move since the battle, and a few hours’ rest was deemed appropriate before they attempted to rejoin the main group. An extra tent was pitched for the newcomers—or did the occupants give it up for them? Dusk had not paid enough attention to know, but she entered it and curled up on the blanket that had been provided. Thankfully the forest blocked the wind, but the night was still cold. The world was getting colder. Worries would be her bedfellows again, it seemed. Her health might not hold out. Could she see the doctor without giving away her identity? She couldn’t let any Lunar army ponies see her horn; she knew what they wanted to do to the Empress. If she wasn’t lynched by then, she would have to face Luna. And it was all an attempt to follow a picture she had seen in a psychotic book. Something slid across her skin unexpectedly. She looked up as Fluttershy finished drawing another blanket over her. More unprovoked kindness. Celestia considered pushing the blanket back off of herself, but a glance in the yellow pony’s eyes stopped her. No pony could resist Fluttershy’s smile. All she could do was smile back. Fluttershy moved on and bedded down nearby. Now that she was cozy, Celestia could only puzzle over that new feeling as she drifted to sleep.
Enmity RoadChapter 27 The band of Lunar troops marched southwest, following a narrow trail through the jungle. No longer so closely guarded, the friends had spread out naturally along the column. Twilight had joined Applejack at the head. Their conversation was not unpleasant, but still awkward, especially since Twilight still held her secrets. The magician then fell behind slightly, and the two took to their own thoughts. Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash traveled in the middle of the group and, if anything, enjoyed each other’s company too much. Occasionally, their laughter sounded incongruously along the line of discouraged soldiers. Near the back, Rarity and Fluttershy trotted side by side, and Dusk followed them. Fluttershy did not need the trail. She could have just as easily weaved over and through the jungle foliage, but as long as she was part of the group she preferred to stay close beside her friend. The unicorn had a steadying effect on her, and they shared the experience of being “the civilian ones”. Bound by memories of bygone times, Rarity was determined to bring Fluttershy back to her former well-kempt state. The yellow pony did not miss civilized hygiene, but soaked up the positive contact. As they walked, the stylist’s rag and brush hovered around Fluttershy, cleaning and grooming her. “Ah, that’s how I remember you,” Rarity announced as she returned Fluttershy’s mane to its original shape. “How did you ever live in a place like this?” the city friend asked. “Oh, really, it’s not very hard when the animals like you,” the wild pegasus explained. “They showed me around and helped me find food and water.” “But it’s so dark and frightening,” Rarity observed with concern. Fluttershy tilted her head and viewed the forest around them as if she had not considered that before. “It only gets dangerous at night. I slept alright though, since I knew that most of the noises around me were my animal friends. Sometimes they let me stay in their dens.” “You slept in dirty holes?” Rarity reacted with surprise. “They’re very cozy,” the hermit replied. “There’s no place else to be when it’s cold and rainy.” Rarity had managed to keep a purse that contained her essential supplies. Small amounts of cosmetic ointments restored body and shine, and a spritz of perfume took the edge off Fluttershy’s gamey smell. “I hope my other friends will still recognize me,” she worried. Dusk turned off the path, saying, “Rarity, come here. I want to show you something.” “Oh, I don’t know,” Rarity objected. “It looks even more dark and dirty over there.” “It’s just around here. You don’t want to miss it,” Dusk insisted. “Alright, just one moment though,” the unicorn allowed, and followed. Dusk pushed aside some leaves to give her a better look at something white. Rarity gasped at the sight. There, in a musty space sheltered by a tangle of tree roots, a huge and voluptuous flower bloomed. Rarity was not an easy judge, but this was a thing of real beauty. “It’s a Darkfold Star. They’re very rare, and only grow in the darkest, harshest jungles. There’s something beautiful everywhere, even if no pony can see it.” The drab misfit gazed longingly at the pure white petals. Fluttershy took up a station in the branches above to look down at them, fascinated by their fascination. Rarity took in every detail of the flower before she noticed the strained expression. She whispered to Celestia, “Oh, Princess, I know it must be hard for you. You were beautiful, too.” “Now I’m ugly,” Dusk moaned. “There’s something there, we just need to make it show,” Rarity encouraged. They regained the path and she took to her new makeover project eagerly. Out came the ointments. Dusk’s mane had grown slightly longer, so there was more to work with than at Derpy’s apartment. Rarity experimented with several styles until she found one that complimented the faux pegasus; simple turned out to be best. They both winced as the bristles of the brush scraped audibly over her horn. Rarity looked about, aware that any self-respecting barber would identify the sound easily. No one seemed to notice, so she continued, and finished cautiously. She gave the tail a similar treatment. She soon discovered that Dusk’s streaked coat was a new medium for her art. Rarity combed and cleaned away bits of ash, leaving speckled areas that complimented Dusk’s form. Rarity put away her things, satisfied that she had accomplished all that she could without a proper salon. “Am I beautiful?” Celestia asked. Rarity gave her a once-over, taking in the scrawny body, oddly-shaped face, and persistently disturbing eyes. She answered with a bemused smile, “It’s a start.” Meanwhile, Applejack was deep in private contemplation. “That Dusk is an unsettling creature,” she thought. Applejack was still shocked, and none too pleased, to encounter her again. The creepy pegasus lied to her and mocked her. Or perhaps she hadn’t lied; Applejack remembered now that she was insane. She was obviously insane because she couldn’t be… And now she was with Twilight. The major studied Doctor Sparkle and wondered, “A failed experiment, huh? Could she have failed that bad?” Applejack plied her memory—most of what she remembered was the battle, but it seemed like there was an important detail she was forgetting, or maybe didn’t even pay attention to at the time. The forester who led the way froze and held up a hoof. Applejack snapped from her thoughts and shouted, “Company halt!” Something whipped out of the shadows at the forester, who deflected the blow. The thing dropped onto the path in front of him and slithered away like a snake. The colt drew a machete and readied himself. Another attack came from the other side; he swung, and a piece of vine flopped lifeless to the dirt. “Mirkweed,” he cussed. “See if you can find a way around,” Applejack said to the guide. He nodded and disappeared into the woods. “You boys start bushwhackin’ in case he comes up short,” she ordered the soldiers next to her. They reluctantly moved forward and began the difficult task of opening the way through the patch of hostile vines. Applejack wasn’t frustrated by the delay; maybe it was an opportunity to clear something up. She walked down the column and passed Twilight where she was standing. Twilight would have returned a smile, but met with a severe eye she looked away. Applejack had talked enough with the tight-lipped magician and wouldn’t waste any more time in that direction. It was worth a glance over the shoulder to catch Twilight watching her with concern. She passed Rainbow Dash, who was still distracted with Pinkie Pie, and spotted a low gray figure through the mulling soldiers. She took a direct course for the pegasus, and troops saw her countenance and stepped out of the way. Rarity noted her approach, and motioning to her companions said, “Watch her for a moment, Fluttershy.” With that she moved to intercept the major. Applejack hadn’t planned on this, but decided to go along with the interruption. She hadn’t gotten the opportunity to speak with Rarity alone, and it was a worthwhile avenue to explore. “What’s wrong?” Rarity inquired. “The Everfree Forest decided to hold us up,” Applejack returned, “It’ll take a bit to work around, so we’re taking a breather.” “I’m glad for it. I can abide the occasional walk in the woods, but this is out of hoof,” she joked. “Is there something you wanted to tell me?” Applejack invited. “Well yes, if you could get that one officer to stop following me so closely I would be more comfortable,” the unicorn diverted. “I thought you wanted that,” Applejack commented with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, you led him on pretty good.” “I suppose I did. Whatever came over me?” she wondered innocently. “Besides that, those two pegasi seem to have forgotten how to take care of themselves. I did what I could to straighten them out.” “You mean Fluttershy and that weird one?” Applejack clarified. “I’m sure you have Dusk trussed up like a truffle, but do you know anything about her?” “The accident has done some strange things to her. It’s a shame, she seems to be an interesting enough pony. From the look of her, you might assume she didn’t have much of a heart, but you could be surprised,” Rarity rambled purposefully. “I don’t want to know too much, though; Twilight’s recent work was quite distasteful.” Applejack respected her enough not to press the matter further. “How have things been in Canterlot?” “Fine,” Rarity replied tersely. The freckled one had braced for an earful on that topic. “That bad, huh?” The disappointed fashionista nodded ruefully and asked in turn, “How have things been with you?” “Fine,” Applejack said with a gathering scowl. She lit herself a cigarette, then offered one to her friend. “No thank you,” Rarity said, with some effort. “Since when do you smoke?” she asked. “Since when did you quit?” Applejack retorted. “I figured it didn’t matter if I didn’t live too long, since no one really knew me,” the proud unicorn confessed. “But now that I’m among friends again, I feel I ought to look after myself.” “I wouldn’t be too worried about that,” the major commented with a wave to the dim sky. Longevity is not a foremost consideration on the eve of doomsday. “I have hope things will turn out alright,” Rarity professed. “You do?” Applejack understood, with surprise. “Shit,” she grumbled, and tossed her cigarette aside. They stared into the distance together, which would have made more sense on a scenic overlook, but they were busy thinking and not smoking. Dusk sat down on a mossy log while she waited. “Get up,” a soldier ordered gruffly. “What makes you think you get a seat, you Solar imp?” Dusk looked up with annoyance, but a confrontation would clearly be pointless. She moved out of the way as he sat down; she doubted he really wanted the spot. Pink and yellow intervened on her vision. Fluttershy gave the bitter warrior an ill look while protectively guiding the little one away from the scene. “It’s alright,” the kindly pegasus comforted. “Don’t be scared. I won’t let anything happen to you,” she assured, with an affirming pat on the head. “Don’t—“ Dusk objected, but it was too late. They froze and stared at each other wide-eyed. Fluttershy gingerly withdrew her hoof and marveled, “Dusk, you’re special.” “Please don’t tell any pony,” the little alicorn begged in a whisper. “If they knew I was different they would hurt me.” “I won’t let them hurt you,” Fluttershy promised. “Talking to ponies makes me nervous anyway.” Rarity arrived to resume her duties, unaware that anything had changed. “Applejack wants to see you,” she said to Fluttershy. She thought it was a harmless request since Fluttershy wasn’t in the know. Fluttershy exchanged a glance with Dusk before leaving silently. She sat next to Applejack, who asked her, “Fluttershy, did you notice anything strange about Dusk?” “Um, maybe,” she stalled. “She smells like something that died in a forest fire.” “Is there something else?” the major prodded. “N—no,” Fluttershy stuttered. Applejack looked hurt and almost gasped, “Fluttershy, you did not just…” She calmed her voice and pulled the pegasus’s chin up to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry,” the shy pony apologized sincerely. “I just don’t want to talk about it.” “You too?” the major accused. “You’re with them on this?” “It’s not like that,” Fluttershy defended. “That’s it,” Applejack declared. “No more lies. She spills, now.” With that she stormed away down the trail on an uninterruptable course. Fluttershy called, “Wait! Don’t hurt her,” and began to follow. Twilight took notice and started to move after them. Rainbow Dash put Pinkie Pie on hold. Rarity again moved to greet her country friend. Applejack griped, “Not this time,” and shouldered past her. She stood over Dusk and demanded, “Who are you?” Dusk was silent. The major pulled out her revolver and repeated, “WHO ARE YOU?!” Captain Dash jumped in front of Celestia to shield her from the major’s wrath. Twilight and Rarity caught up and stood on either side of the alicorn entrusted to their protection. Fluttershy moved in front of Rainbow Dash, unwilling to see her friends harm each other. Pinkie Pie flung herself dramatically between Fluttershy and Applejack. Her serious face melted to a playful smile. Nose to nose, she asked her friend, “What are we doing?” “Get outta the way, Pinkie Pie,” Applejack dismissed her impertinent comrade. Pinkie Pie shrugged and stepped aside. “Okay, it just looked like fun.” “Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” Rarity urged. “Please trust us.” “Trust you?” replied Applejack, exasperated. “Why don’t you trust me? What are you afraid I’ll do if I know the truth? Don’t any of you believe I’ll do the right thing?” She scanned their faces, and the answer was clear. “I’m sorry,” Fluttershy whispered, but held her ground. Big Mac loomed on the scene to back up his little sister. Several soldiers drew their weapons and surrounded the insubordinate prisoners. Applejack was unsure before, but her suspicions had been confirmed already. “That has to be it,” she declared, and cocked her pistol. “There’s nothing else it could be.” The four stood steady in front of the lethal threat. “I don’t have to use this,” she pointed out, waving her gun. “I can just say it. It’s the same thing.” The rifles at her call were ready. “How can I forgive myself if I can kill Celestia, and I don’t?” she thought. “Please,” Rarity begged. “THAT’S your hope?!” Applejack burst out incredulously, and spat on the ground. The gun rattled in her shaking hoof and she gritted her teeth. A soldier jogged onto the scene and reported “Major, we’ve found a way around—“ before he saw the standoff. The major holstered her weapon and announced to her doubting friends, “I didn’t do it. It’s not mine to do.” She raised her voice and addressed her enemy through the wall of pony-shields, “If I were you, I wouldn’t want to go to Luna. Let’s hurry up then.” Celestia shuddered. The column moved forwards again. Applejack understood her friends, but distanced herself nonetheless. She walked with heavy steps and a grim bearing. Pinkie Pie was still confused. She caught up and asked, “What’s up? Why are you so down?” Disgusted with herself, Applejack replied, “Spare me the devil, the world’s on my head.”
Universal SoldierChapter 28 Applejack still stood aloof from the others, marching impatiently at the head of the column as if to pull the others along. She didn’t want to talk to her friends, mostly because she knew they were right. She would have shot Celestia had they not intervened. The real problem was that they might expect her to be sorry about it. In truth, she was proud to be the kind of pony that she would be carried away by her convictions; far better that than passivity. She wasn’t one to allow the innocent to be unprotected or the bad guy unpunished. When Rarity and Fluttershy had not joined the good fight, she had dismissed them as passive and indifferent, but now she realized that was not fair to them. Having been in the wars, she knew the real horror of equicide that defied political justification. Of course it was justified; the cruel and deceptive goddess Celestia could not be allowed to rule Equestria unchallenged. In any case, Applejack knew, it was good that she didn’t kill the little impostor. She was still faced with the hopeless dilemma that plagued the New Lunar Republic. While the Empress lived, she would not allow them peace; if she died, they would see no sun. She had almost cemented the impending period of darkness, famine, and cold apocalypse. Most unsettling, she thought, was the fact that their arch enemy had come into their power willingly. Could it be a trick to get at Luna? Not likely. The great and powerful Celestia would not degrade herself to such a state on purpose. The Solar forces seemed to be out of her control, and would they not be more victorious with their alicorn champion to lead them? So of all things, Celestia had come to them for help, and they would be compelled to give it to her. It was just so wrong… “Applejack!” Pinkie Pie yelled as she galloped to catch up. Applejack had already been accosted by her enthusiastic comrade. Once it was to convince her to go talk to the others, and once to tell her a joke. It was a really awful time to tell a joke, but it was damn hilarious. “What is it this time?” she asked, unsurprised to find wide eyes in her face. “Tail twitch twitch, ears flap!” Pinkie Pie blurted with alarm. “You mean falling, and—“ Applejack quickly attempted to grasp the message. “EXPLODING!” cried the alarm pony. There was a sound like a distant thunderstorm. Major Applejack called, “GET DOWN!” and dove to take cover beside the path. The Rough Riders immediately did the same, leading the uninitiated to follow their example a couple seconds late. An explosion shredded the forest by the path where they would have been. Two more impacts sounded nearby to the south. The soldiers hunkered, wondering whether they should react and how. Hearing the destruction continue to move away, Applejack stood and barked, “Some pony get a look over these trees! We need to see what’s going on.” One of their company dropped his gear and clambered into the lower branches of a tree. “I see a ship,” he reported. “Lunar, and heading south by southwest.” “Shit, we’re being shelled by our own fleet?” someone responded in consternation. Applejack ran to the spotter and said, “I don’t think they’re shooting at us. Do you see anything else?” “No, the canopy’s too—wait, I see another light!” he exclaimed. “There is a second ship, I think it’s in direct pursuit.” “Big Mac, follow me with that rocket launcher,” Applejack said gesturing urgently down the path. “If we hurry we can cut ‘em off.” “Wait, major, what are you gonna do with one rocket launcher?” someone objected. “Who cares? That ship needs help,” she snapped, and galloped away with her big brother in arms. Looking up, she saw the first vessel crossing over the path and leaving a trail of smoke. The dark shape glided by, like a whale swimming through the sky. It was rapidly changing altitude and bearing to thwart the aim of the pursuing ship’s guns. They raced ahead; if they could reach the spot where the Lunar destroyer had crossed, the hostile ship would probably pass over them. They came to a place where the canopy was thinner and Applejack looked about, unsure of her estimation. “What took you so long?” a voice questioned from beside the path. The Apples blinked in surprise at another missile team. “You’re in the right place, now set up fast,” an officer exhorted. Big Mac unslung the launcher and his sister fed a rocket into the cylinder. They waited. A hum slowly rose as the blasts from the muzzles of the guns became louder than the detonating shells. The prow jutted out from the trees, black against the gray sky. The full form of the hull slid into view. The emblem of the blazing sun gleamed triumphantly on its side as it surged forth to claim its prey. The engines also glowed on its ventral surface, showing clear targets to the fighters below. “Wait, wait,” the officer restrained Big Mac. A red flare from somewhere in the forest bounced impotently off the steel hull. “Now!” he barked. Big Mac took careful aim at the closest engine; he and the other soldier let their missiles loose. The projectiles kicked out of the launchers with a distinctive thud. As they flew up, they joined a hail of weaponry rising from the wilderness. The Solar destroyer had been lured into the trap of the regrouped NLR Army. The thick hull was impervious, but warheads entered two of the six engine shafts, stalling the craft in the line of fire. The captain reacted quickly, directing his crew to list violently to the side to escape. Machine gun positions on board came to life, desperately raking the dark foliage. The ship dropped some of its bombs like a startled creature; the ordinance fell haphazardly and killed few. The Lunar army reloaded quickly, and a fresh volley bit into the behemoth before it could pull away. Tons of metal found itself suddenly unsupported in the air, and plummeted earthward. The remaining engines pushed to full power to slow the descent, but it was not enough and the craft slammed violently into the jungle. The ship crashed across the trail between the army and the Rough Riders. Its front sections were crumpled, and the gases in the aft sections burned furiously. Lunar troops cheered, and rushed to surround the hulk. Doctor Sparkle and particularly Captain Dash were downcast at the ambush of their countrymen. The Rough Riders whooped and hollered around them. Rainbow Dash leaned in to Twilight and whispered, “You know what’s about to happen. We have to do something.” “I don’t think they’ll let us go, we’re still prisoners,” the unicorn cautioned. Dash checked the wind with her tail and responded, “We’ll have an opening, but I’ll need my wings and you’ll need your horn.” “Rarity!” Twilight yelled over the shouts of the troops. The fashionable unicorn started to move towards them before they were all hit with an obscuring onrush of dust and smoke from the crash. In the dark forest, smoke reduced visibility to near zero. Somepony approached the Solar guests. “Let us loose and we can save a lot of lives,” Rainbow Dash requested to the figure she hoped was Rarity. Their bonds could be removed much faster by magic than by hoof. “I don’t know which side you’re on,” Rarity objected, afraid of what her friends might do. Celestia appeared from the haze; risking the use of her magic, she untied Rainbow Dash and uncapped Twilight in a moment. “Go!” she urged. Rainbow Dash picked up the rope in her teeth and the two rushed in the direction of the wreck, trying to avoid recognition by the soldiers they bumped into. Dash ran across Pinkie Pie, and thinking quickly, swiped the blue ribbon that showed her Lunar allegiance. The surprised earth pony called after the thief, “Hey, gimme that!” and chased after her. Twilight pushed the smoke around them, allowing her glowing horn to guide them down the path. The three of them galloped together until they encountered a metal mass. The ship was rolled onto its starboard side, blocking most of the escape hatches near the three rescuers. “They need you on the other side,” Dash guessed, speaking to Twilight. As the magician left the smoke closed around the others. “What are you doing?!” Pinkie Pie demanded. “You’re keeping me alive,” Captain Dash insisted, thrusting one end of the rope towards her. “Hold this.” The pegasus beat her wings and disappeared upwards. Pinkie Pie was left standing by the big wreck, confused and blinded. Then there was a firm pull on the rope from somewhere above, and a voice, “Climb aboard!” “I’ve got a bad feeling about this!” Pinkie warned. “That’s why I need you,” Dash answered. “Morsa muffins, right?” Pinkie Pie repeated the phrase and quickly shimmied up the rope to wherever it would lead. She finally cleared the smoke and found Dash helping her over the railing onto the top deck of the defunct airship. She could feel the heat of the flames that engulfed one end of the ship. The pegasus tugged her up the steep, slick slope to a hatch that led into the burning structure. They entered a slanted world, lit with dim red emergency lights. They walked upright on the corner of the floor and walls. “I’ve got to get to the bridge,” Dash informed. A hallway on their left was a hazardous pit. They leapt the gap and continued. Desperate crewponies swung down into the hallway ahead of them. Dash instructed, “There’s a rope off the rail, middeck,” as they shoved past. They jumped another side hall and climbed over a bloody pony that had been killed in the impact. Repeated, frantic clangs came from a sealed hatch on the wall under them. Dash tried to turn the handle, but the blood made her hooves slip. She got a better grip and Pinkie Pie joined in, and together they forced the stubborn hatch open. They hoisted up two Solar sailors, one injured. “There’s a rope off the rail, middeck.” As they entered the next section, the hall ended in a T. It seemed easier to navigate downwards into the corridor to the left, and Dash was about to proceed when Pinkie caught her and alerted, “Bad, very bad!” “You’ll have to climb then,” Dash concluded and flew up and to the right. Pinkie Pie used pipes to clamber up part of the way before she ran out of hoofholds. The rainbow warrior assisted her up to the next doorway, where they descended a set of stairs, which provided the closest thing to level ground. They finally entered the command, where part of the ceiling was collapsed. Aside from two bodies that lay motionless, the bridge crew had evacuated. Dash began to search about before she was interrupted by a heavy groan from under some of the debris. The two rescuers pried a heavy steel girder off of a gentlecolt who turned out to be the captain of the ship. His bloody bearded face showed not relief but anger; he rose to his feet and fumed, “Where are my officers? Did I say to abandon ship? Damn clopspitting cowards!” He stumbled to the intercom and barked, “Damage control, stop that fire! Gunners, fire at will! Marines to the hatches! Damage control, copy?” He waited, but received no reply; the system was dead. “Damn it!” he cursed, slamming the receiver. Pinkie Pie propped up one of the bodies and pronounced, “This one’s alive.” The crewpony had a broken leg, and fighting through a concussion, gasped, “Vents! Did we vent the gases in the main chamber?” Dash thought she would recognize the event, and replied, “I don’t think so.” The captain of the airship ordered Pinkie Pie and the wounded officer, “Open the tanks, then we’ll stand as good a chance as not of stopping that fire.” The Lunar engineer was entirely skeptical of commands from enemy officers, and turned to Dash for confirmation. Dash nodded, and Pinkie took her charge by the shoulder and helped him out of the room towards the auxiliary buoyancy controls. “Soldier,” the captain addressed the Solar Scout, and exhorted, “Rally as much of the crew as you can back to their battle stations and defend the hatches. We’re not flying but we’re still a fortress!” Dash objected, “It’s not a fortress, it’s a funeral pyre.” “My goddess!” the zealous officer exclaimed indignantly. “Do you have no faith in Celestia’s protection?” “I am Celestia’s protection,” Rainbow Dash thought to herself very literally, and lied, “I have to recover secret intelligence information.” The captain considered the statement, and concluded, “Very well, I’ll fight those soulless nightsiders myself!” He stormed out of the room to find a means of vengeance. Dash continued her search for her real objective. She located the proper panel under one of the consoles and pried it loose to reveal a collision-resistant metal box bolted onto the internal structure. There was an emergency wrench on the side of the compartment. She took it and set about freeing the encased instrument. She heard a bursting sound and a great rushing hiss, and knew her friend had succeeded. As she worked on the last bolt, Pinkie Pie reappeared with the limping Solar sailor. “Got it,” Dash said, finally extricating the black case. “Let’s get out of here.” Just then a distressed yell echoed from somewhere on the starboard side—away from any exit. She put down her precious cargo and was about to seek out the stranded soul, but Pinkie Pie began to shiver and sneeze. The extrasensory pony spewed, “Fire, FIRE! Melting flesh!” “Sorry comrade,” Dash muttered as she picked up the heavy instrument and moved for the exit. Applejack and Big Macintosh followed the Lunar Army troops to the crash site. The soldiers cautiously took cover and trained small arms on every exit from the vessel. After a tense moment’s wait, the lower port hatches flung open. Figures of ponies poured out of the black holes into the haze, rushing towards the waiting guns with clamor and shouts. “Halt, don’t come any closer,” a soldier threatened, lining up on the closest shapes and preparing to defend himself. A Solar marine, clutching his rifle, stumbled out of the hatch and away from the wreck; suddenly confronted with enemies, he fired a shot. Four of the surrounding troops let loose a reply at the muzzle flash, dropping the marine. Sensing they were under attack, some sailors drew pistols and one began firing haphazardly in an attempt to stave off the assault. A company of troops reacted, spewing lead into the hostile mass to suppress all resistance. There were five, ten seconds of solid gunfire. Applejack winced at the palpable overkill as those with larger clips and tighter nerves continued to fire shot after shot at any hint of movement. The shooting had hardly started in earnest when something else began to happen. The haze took on a pinkish tint, and Applejack stared in disbelief as bullets began to bounce out of it. A fresh gust of wind blew the port side clear and revealed Twilight, standing in the midst of the crew, protecting them with her magic. The frightened, battered ponies fleeing the downed craft were very different from the banzai charge of fanatical sun worshipers that some imagined to be coming at them. “Stop shooting!” Twilight pleaded at the top of her lungs, “We surrender!” Perceiving a disadvantage in the face of a powerful Solar magician, an officer ordered a bazooka to the scene, but Applejack intercepted the colt who carried it and prevented him from bringing it to bear. “I’m going to drop this spell now, so for Equestria’s sake don’t shoot!” Twilight called out. She dropped the barrier and turned her energy to assisting the wounded up the slanted floor and down out of the hull. Applejack stepped out of the firing line towards her enemy friend, sputtering, “What in the blue blazes?” “Would it kill you to let these ponies get farther away from this big bomb?” Twilight griped urgently. Applejack and Big Mac each escorted a naval pony back through the Lunar line, and others followed their example. It looked as if the evacuation might continue smoothly. Suddenly a face popped out of a point-defense position halfway up the hull; it oozed red hatred across its beard and shouted fiery wrath. The captain of the ship took hold of a large-caliber machine gun and swung it around to face his foes. “Death to nightsiders and deserters!” he cried as he pointed it into the intermingled troops and crew and squeezed the firing handles. Those below took cover, and the last stragglers were compelled to remain in the ship for shelter. Riflemen fired up at everyone’s antagonist. He was hit, but continued firing; his weapon jerked up wildly as he struggled to stand until the last. Under some fresh impulse, ponies jumped out of the hatch into danger. Finally Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie emerged, and Dash shouted, “It’s gonna blow!” A massive secondary explosion burst out of the hull under the captain, who was swallowed by fire and twisted metal. Pinkie Pie shoved Twilight to one side and pulled Dash in close just before a huge piece of steel plating fell over them. Flaming debris rained across the scene. Applejack raced through the resulting wreckage, heedless of the fire. “Where did you all come from?! Don’t you be dead, don’tcha even do that to me!” she cried as she threw her weight against the steel that crushed them. It wouldn’t budge, and she slumped against it despondently. The fire was closing in as the ship bled burning oil out of its new wound. She coughed and the heat rose, but she would not leave them. Big Macintosh rushed to her side, but he could not move the rubble either. Then above the shouts and the roar of the fire came a deep, reverberating voice that seemed to surround them. “Good work, my brave soldiers,” the presence uttered. It was steady and cool, and exhorted, “As long as we have strength, we will fight. And we are still strong.” Flanked by her continuous escort of magicians, Luna strode through her army towards the wreck. She walked the length of the airship with a surge of magic passing before her. She banished the flames from her presence. At her approach, the debris lifted and obediently gathered itself in piles behind her. “Medics, tend to their wounded once ours are stable,” she ordered. The way clear, Lunar troops again approached the hulk and aided those caught in the second blast. The approach of the war Princess uncovered Twilight, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie. Pinkie Pie had used her uncanny sense to position them where they would be mostly unhurt by the falling mass. She coughed singed confetti and squeaked lamely, “Ta-daa!” “You three scared the damn bejeebies outa me!” Applejack exclaimed, relieved. “What on earth are you doing here?” she asked Pinkie Pie. “We did good, didn’t we?” the pink one replied with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, you’re a hero,” the major congratulated. “Apparently you’re also a Solar.” Luna drew near, and started to greet them, “Applejack, Pinkie Pie! I am glad that you made it—“ she froze at the sight of Doctor Sparkle and Captain Dash. She had planned the ambush, but could not contain her surprise at meeting these two. Her guards recognized the high-level threats and bristled defensively. “It’s alright, they’re with me,” Applejack informed. “Really?” Luna asked, surprised once again. “I’m glad you made it, ma’am,” Applejack said, noting her leader’s bandaged wing. The Princess glimpsed at her side, stretching out her healthy wing and giving a slight huff. She had been shot, but she was trying to put it behind her. Rainbow Dash understood the frustration of being grounded; it was like an earth pony being hoof-cuffed. However, she had more important things to do than commiserate. The Solar Scout stepped forward with the black box from the destroyer, her prize from a successful mission, and reported to her acting superior, “Princess, this is the ship’s transmitter. As far as Imperial Command is concerned, this is H.M.S. Wrathstar. If you keep it moving, they won’t even know the ship went down, assuming you were jamming their radio.” Luna adjusted quickly to the situation, and replied, “Excellent. I do not know what has brought this about, but you have gained my trust. Corporal,” she said to a nearby officer, “see to it that this transmitter is flown southeast at twenty knots.” “That’s not the only thing they are tracking,” Twilight confessed. “They can follow dragon-streams to…” she hesitated, “one of us.” The statement was laced with implications. Luna grasped the portent immediately, and asked, “Who are they tracking?” “A pony I’ve brought to see you,” Twilight replied cautiously. “That’s why I came.” The Princess was puzzled, and asked again, “Can you explain all this quickly?” “Dusk” was still a ways away, and besides, Twilight doubted very much the situation could be approached quickly and casually. “No.” “We must move,” Luna alerted, “I will speak with Applejack on the way back to camp. You will meet me there.” She turned and instructed one of her magicians, “Sidayana, you know how to confuse such communication. Follow Doctor Sparkle to the subject and ensure the pony is disconnected.” Those near her tucked their ears as Luna bellowed over the stale battlefield, “Get ready to return to camp, we leave at thirteen hundred hours!” She moved on to coordinate the move and deal with the matter of prisoners. “Wow, Dash, I thought you were still a Solar,” Applejack commented. “I am, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t on the same side,” Captain Dash professed. Applejack could only blink in consternation at that remark.
Dreams and VeilsChapter 30 Celestia awoke with a start from strange dreams. She tried to go back to sleep, but could not fight her restless mind. The four friends that slept around her did so soundly and placidly. She rose quietly and walked to the door of the tent, where she anticipated the customary rifle-barrel to the face. Strangely, the guards were not there. She advanced cautiously into the “road” between rows of camouflaged tents. There was no challenge, nor even a stir. Perhaps she was still dreaming. In her tyrant days she had been wary of her nighttime thoughts, as Luna could, with limitations, shape the dreams of others. She had learned to perform a dissolution spell in her sleep and cast out illusions. She tried it now, but nothing happened. A chill breeze swept through the camp. The discomfort hardly bothered her; she wasn’t here to relax. She seemed to remember looking for something in her actual dreams. “I shouldn’t expect to find it now, but since I’m already out here,” she figured, and trotted through the camp. She looked alertly down the green canvas isles for anything that might move in the moonlight. Were there no soldiers on watch that night? At last another being intruded on her lonely walk. The face of the pony was shaded by a hat—seeing the particular hat, she recognized Applejack as the earth pony approached. “Major,” the little alicorn acknowledged. “Celestia,” Applejack addressed squarely. “You have trouble sleeping too?” Celestia attempted to relate. “Actually I wanted to have a real talk with you,” came the major’s unexpected reply. “But not out here, you’ll catch a cold. It’s like a damn early winter.” She led the way back to her tent and ushered the duskling inside. With the flap closed there was some relief. The tent was divided into sections, and conveniently there were no other occupants in this section, nor could snores be heard from the rest of the enclosure. The dispossessed ruler sat on a blanket, but did not pull it around herself. She didn’t want to pretend she was more welcome than she was. The major did not sit or relax her demeanor. She forced eye contact with Celestia; she tried to look normal but could not really hide the truth-stare. “What happened to you?” she questioned. Celestia was not comfortable with the situation, but she could see the value of getting Applejack to understand, so she narrated, “Something began to haunt me in the palace. At first I thought it was Luna, but it wasn’t. Then I thought it was just me, but I started to think things I wouldn’t; I started to feel guilty. Then I was overcome by whatever it was. It was ancient,” the old alicorn attested. “I was young and it was ancient. It took the sun away from me and boiled me down to this,” she indicated her own feeble body. “I burn. I’m dying and I burn in sunlight. Do you know what that’s like? What am I without sunlight?” “How different are you?” the major inquired. The false pegasus had wondered just that for quite some time. “I’m not the same, but I’m not as different as I would like to be. Whatever it was showed me how horrible I was, and made me realize there are some good things, things worth not being that way for.” “Why wouldn’t you get that from Luna?” Applejack asked perceptively. “From what she told me, she really tried to help you. After the Elements, she endured you for the longest time, patiently tryin’ to show you how she’d changed, and tryin’ to make you want to. Why didn’t you listen to her?” “Why not?” returned the once-great Empress. “Because I knew better. She was my inferior and she must have still been jealous—that’s what I thought. I don’t think I was capable of hearing what she was trying to say.” “What do you think Luna should do with you?” came the next question. “She has to help me raise the sun,” Celestia replied simply. Applejack skeptically enquired, “How’s she supposed to do that?” “If I’m restored I can do it,” Celestia explained. “Twilight tried to help, but she used dark magic and brought back the monster I was, and it was killing me. She said that was the only way, but I consulted an artifact, a book. It showed me a place in the mountains; there was a ruined city in front of three peaks and in the middle mountain was a cave. It’s a special cave or something. If we raise the sun to shine into it, I can be restored for real.” Applejack asked again, working for a real answer, “What would she do with you if there was another way to raise the sun?” The smoky prisoner shifted nervously, and replied, “I’m scared of what she’ll do as it is. It’s just good for me there isn’t. I know it’s not fair.” “Do you really regret what you did?” the major delved necessarily. “Yes,” Celestia answered sincerely. “Yes I do. I ruined everything I touched, and I touched everything. My regret doesn’t help anyone, though, unless I really can save the world.” “Because you got caught or because it was bad?” the major probed. “Do you even know what bad is?” “Because I’m so bad and I hurt so many ponies,” she attested, “but I don’t know what bad is. The only thing I can think of for sure is me. I don’t know what makes something bad, but I know what I’ve done is horrible. I’m pretty fubar.” “What part bothers you the most?” Applejack wondered. Celestia had to think about that one, rejecting options as they came. “I guess I should say something about one of the cities I destroyed, or about the ponies I oppressed and fucked with their minds for thousands of years—shit, maybe what I did to the cows—but that’s not really it. The part that affects me the worst is everything I did to make my sister hate me. I’ll be alone forever now.” Applejack scraped her hoof on the ground tentatively. “What part bothers you the most?” she repeated. “Why are you asking me this?” the storied alicorn reacted. She had hoped the questions would not cut so deep. She sighed and answered straight, “Really, it’s what I did with my own hooves. The ponies I kidnapped—the fillies, because it’s most like what… Because it was so personal. I can’t forget them. Some of them no pony remembers, but I can see their faces.” “Why?” came that ultimate question. “Why did you do all this?” Celestia answered offhand, “It was all selfish, of course. I did whatever would make me happy. I wanted every pony to love me, but they didn’t really and I guess I hated them for it. I couldn’t risk anyone becoming more powerful than me again. The reason I…” she stopped herself. “I can’t just tell you my reasons for doing some of those things. You wouldn’t understand.” Applejack let it slide and continued, “What motivates you now?” “I just want to live,” the ailing pony expressed. “Is that too much? It probably is.” A practical crux of the investigation was this: “What do you want to do if you get your powers back?” “I want to bathe in sunlight and warm the world again,” Celestia answered idyllically. “I’d stop all the shit I started and make there finally be peace.” Applejack pawed the floor with her hoof. “I’m not sayin’ it’s a lie, but what’s wrong with your answer?” Celestia was stuck. It could damage her mission to say what she was thinking. Now that she was in a corner, though, the worst thing she could do would be to refuse a reply. She reluctantly divulged, “That’s what I want to be true, but I don’t trust me. At first I pretended to be a different pony, but I found out I’m not. I’m still manipulative and I have the same feelings and fears that made me do so much shit. I don’t want to be that way anymore, but I don’t know what I’d do.” “Were you always this way or did something happen to you?” the good pony investigated. “I don’t know. I guess I always had that side of myself, but I didn’t let it out all the time. I had another side too. But then…” Celestia ran into the same emotional barrier again. “Look, all the history books let this go silent. Is this really important?” “I think you’ve been hiding it enough,” Applejack insisted. “It doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.” Celestia started to speak, but nothing came. There was another false start as she fought with her own compartmentalization. At last she disclosed, “The first time Discord came, he was looking for something precious to steal that would throw off the order of things. He saw me, and I was young and… he took me. All of me. He… I…” she bit her lip and began to sob. “If you try to get anything more specific I’m leaving.” Applejack nodded, but left the question open, sensing that there was more that Celestia had to say. “The unicorn sages rescued me, but I don’t know if they beat him or he let me go. The last thing he said was…” Celestia moaned at the recollection. Then came a smile, the kind that comes when no expression can show the hurt. “I made you better!” she repeated, before covering her mouth, appalled at the sound. She sobbed a moment longer. Gradually she quieted. Regaining a certain detachment, she analyzed, “After that, the bad part of me was worse and the rest was broken. Now I don’t have two parts, just a pile of pieces. Only some of the bad pieces are still under there somewhere.” “I’ve gotta ask,” said one big sister to another. “I love Applebloom, and I wouldn’t ever let nothin’ hurt her. Did you ever really care about your sister?” Celestia wiped the tears from her black eyes—shit, and got ash in them—and stared wistfully into space. “A long time ago, I thought I loved my little Luna. I didn’t know what love was though. I still don’t. I respect her, I admire her, but I don’t think she’ll ever let me love her.” “What made Luna the way she used to be?” Applejack prompted. “That’s between me and Luna,” Celestia reacted defensively. Her sister’s secrets were not for her to reveal, nor was she eager to open up that one of her own. “I don’t know if she would have been like that anyway, but it’s between me and her. I guess that’s your answer.” Applejack started to ask, “How much—“ but stopped. She knew she no longer belonged in the conversation. “Uh, I think it’s time for me to go.” With that she excused herself, slipping through the tent flap, closing it behind her, and hastily trotting away. At last Celestia understood the nature of her appointment. Her heart quickened, but she remained and silently waited for the question. The dividing curtain of the tent loosed itself from the ceiling and collapsed. Luna sat where she had throughout the interview, pondering the fate of the one called Dusk, probing the heart she loathed and feared, sifting through signs of despair and hope. Her imposing presence filled up the space that her large form did not. Luna broke the heavy silence with heavier words. “How much does it hurt to be your sister?” “Maybe like it hurts to be me,” Celestia answered. Luna turned and looked at her intensely. “You are wrong. Do you not remember, while I wept, you laughed. You were happy.” The little alicorn was afraid to look Luna in the eye but did not dare turn away. “I was fake. But, then again, sometimes I was happy. I guess that’s the sickest part, isn’t it? I won’t say I had inner peace or anything, but I did have fun. I never had to deal with the pain, I always made it go away, or gave it away. I was proud of that. I thought that everyone was playing a cruel game, and I was winning.” “Now I do feel it,” Dusk exposed. “Some things don’t go away in a thousand years.” “A long time,” she thought, cursing privately, “I should have said a long time.” The stars in Luna’s mane dimmed for a painful second. The night Princess, with fresh understanding of her own betrayer, related, “With Discord—I knew when it happened, but I did not know it was like that. If you had told me, before you became the same thing, I would have been sorry for you. I could have helped you.” “You wouldn’t have,” the older sister spoke boldly. “You were too much like me, remember?” With renewed regret, she was heedless of the consequences as she revealed, “Anyway, I did tell you. I couldn’t say it with words, so I passed the message on the same way I got it.” At that Luna’s gaze sharpened. The ancient pain of violation throbbed in her chest, and summoned the anger she tried to restrain. She felt the snapped threads of an old bond, long put away but now raw. Her muscles tensed, but she resisted the urge to lash out or flee from the shared shame. She gritted her teeth and groaned deeply. For several moments they were palpably speechless and unclean. It was as if it happened yesterday. “We are trapped together,” Luna lamented. “I know sisters, that if they were together forever, it would be a wonderful thing. But we are trapped. I cannot kill you and I cannot forgive you.” “Can you forgive yourself?” Celestia wondered, out of concern for them both. Luna examined herself, as she had before, and once again she was unsatisfied. “I do not know if I am forgiven. When you forgave me, it was not real, and your forgiveness is not what I needed. The darkest part of me was killed, and now the six Elements press down on me and hold me away from what I used to do. I cannot be the same, but forgiven? I trust Harmony. It did not make me happy, but it fixed me.” The royal inquisitor requested finally, “Now tell me the truth, this thing that has overcome you—did it fix you? Do you trust it?” “I’m different, but not really fixed,” Celestia replied honestly. “It made me want to be fixed, but it didn’t fix me. It knows how bad I am, that I should die. But it didn’t fix me and it didn’t kill me, so I don’t really trust it.” Then she thought of the book, and something it would make her do. “It’s like the book; I don’t trust it but I believe it.” “Then for Equestria, we must go to the mountain ruins,” the Premier declared. “I know the city, and I never forgot where it lies in the wilderness.” “I don’t deserve any favors,” Celestia admitted, before she begged of Luna, “For everyone, for yourself, promise me one thing. If it works—if I’m restored, but I’m not different, you have to stop me. You can’t kill me, but we both know there are worse things. You can’t give me any warning; you’ve got to pretend you think I’m better, until you can stop me.” “I am burdened with many promises already, but this one is not new,” the warrior Princess agreed solemnly. Celestia’s confused heart beat faster as she was conscious of something between them. It was the closeness of experiencing the pain of the past together. She had to know if her sister felt it too. She was compelled to speak, but only managed, “I…” Luna’s gaze was fixed intensely on her mouth as she struggled to complete the thought, as if the slight movement of those lips was threatening. Celestia met her sister’s eyes, seeking to communicate that way instead. A solitary tear was the only answer she would receive. The glistening droplet burst into a fine mist that spread toward her. “Wait!” she called, but it came out as a whisper. The vapors rushed around the gray one and swept her away—to sleep.
RemnantsChapter 31 Celestia groaned and forced her eyes open. She was wrapped in wool, and brisk air rushed across her face and foreleg. For a moment her body seemed immobile, though she was aware of a swaying sensation. Something was flapping in the wind. Her groggy mind wondered if the tent had collapsed. Coming to herself, she overcame the tranquilized stiffness and pushed herself up partly, leaning against a wooden panel. A foot from her face the floor dropped off, and a spreading, shadowy landscape rushed out from under its edge. The sky was full of movement, and she understood her situation. She was being transported as part of a flying convoy, with several sky carriages and a detachment of pegasi. She was not alone; a green unicorn sat next to her, straight and stoic. The magician’s muted golden mane and tail flowed behind her as she stared meaningfully into the distance. Celestia considered her own scruffy mane, simply too short to ride the air dramatically. “I shouldn’t even need wind,” she thought, watching the undulating sample next to her. “Oh, great,” she scoffed privately, “Am I really going to have mane envy right now?” She stood up to look around. She scanned the small formation and soon spotted something of real interest ahead. Luna sat with her back turned in one of the leading vehicles. The feelings from the night before rushed to Celestia. If she had enough power in her magic to teleport or in her wings to fly, she would have rushed as quickly to her sister’s side. “Sidayana, take me to the Princess,” she requested eagerly. “She does not wish to be with you,” her chaperone disagreed without deigning to look at her. “You don’t understand, I think she came to me in a dream,” the duskling pleaded. Sidayana countered thoughtfully, “You may dream of another, though the one you desire will not come to you.” She breathed very deeply and for a moment her face flushed with emotion. Celestia glanced between Luna and her magician. She realized the two might be as closely associated as she was with Twilight—perhaps closer without deception in the relationship. “Did you dream about Luna too?” Sidayana’s wistful thoughts were broken and she turned to the questioner with annoyance. “Not Luna,” she denied. “I did speak with her, and she does not wish to be with you. I do not wish to be with you, but she commanded it.” Reminding herself of her duty, she became alert to her surroundings. “She trusted me again. I do not know that I deserve it; last time I failed, and all was lost.” “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” the alicorn consoled, though she did not really know. Sidayana looked at her sharply and returned, “I suppose it is not.” “Of course, right, everything is my fault,” Celestia sighed. They were silent for a while. Celestia reconsidered the night in light of her present circumstances. While still in a stupor she had been taken on an urgent errand; it must be to the ancient city that Luna somehow knew of. So it was not a dream. That made more sense, as a conjured vision of Applejack wouldn’t be able to use the real pony’s truth stare. She shifted uncomfortably. “Who were you dreaming about?” she redirected. “Halifax,” the magician stated sorrowfully, “I wish to be with Halifax.” “If we succeed, I’ll make sure this is all over, and then you can find him,” Celestia offered hopefully. “I doubt that,” Sidayana said. “He is dead.” She bowed with grief. “When we failed, he saved me, and now he is dead.” The old ruler understood that this was yet another thing that she would never be able to fix. Suddenly Sidayana’s head snapped up, and, despising her tears, she gazed urgently into the eastern sky. A ribbon of green energy intruded on their view and pursued the carriage. The magician quickly cast a spell on Celestia that cast a piece of her aura out. The gray pony was startled by the feeling that coursed through her, and coughed. The dragonstream followed the magician’s decoy to the northwest and out of sight. Once Celestia’s lungs were bothered she could not help but cough a few more times, painfully expelling the ash that flaked off of her inner tissues. Once the green unicorn was certain she had succeeded, she observed the state of her charge, and commented, “That should not have hurt you. You must indeed be ill.” She signaled another vehicle, and pegasi assisted in transferring the group’s medic to theirs. Redheart, M.D., had been brought on the mission mostly for this purpose, and began to examine her patient and write case notes. Doctor Redheart could not arrive at a purely medical diagnosis. Her excellent bedside manner hid her fears as to the dire nature of the problem. Celestia did not need a doctor to tell her that she was slowly dying. The doctor did give her pills that promised to slow the progress of the strange ailment. Perhaps medical help should have been sought earlier. Mountains rose in the horizon ahead of them. Celestia searched their silhouettes, and saw a group of three peaks that mirrored those she saw in her troubling vision in the magical book. Anticipation was building in her, as was the fear of the unknown. Mysterious forces had dominated her existence recently; she could make sense of neither their nature nor their intentions. They had made it clear that she was supposed to die, but they seemed to spare her for the moment. Was she being brought to this place merely to die in the right way? The book seemed to offer hope, but at a price. She wondered if the vast, unchallengeable presence and the conscious artifact were in agreement. She feared that she might meet one of them there, or worse, encounter herself again. She would have to wait longer to find out; Luna’s ride swung down out of the convoy and landed in a clearing. The rest of the group followed her and circled around to hear the purpose of the delay. The Princess demanded loudly, “We are trying to help Empress Celestia regain her powers. Does anypony object to this?!” All were silent, unsure of her attitude and terrified to answer her honestly. She bristled as if under threat as she continued in her royal voice, “We are saving my sister’s life and giving her back a monopoly on the sun’s life-giving energy. Do you find this wrong and disturbing?” Her soldiers and assistants stared at her, mute at the challenge to their loyalty. She gave herself answer, “I know you think I am fearless, but I tell you the thought of being in her power again frightens me more than death.” “We were briefed, and still we have come with you,” Sidayana assured. She inquired, “Why do you address us like this?” The Princess softened her tone and announced regretfully, “I have just been informed that a great number of your comrades have fallen away. Some of the officers expressed that I cannot be trusted with our situation. They say that I have never cared for my citizens, earth ponies, pegasi, or unicorns. Apparently I only care that alicorns continue to dominate you all; I have tricked you, and now rush to the aid of my ally Celestia so that our race can tyrannize this world forever. They, especially the unicorns among them, thrill to the idea that the Solar Empire is now ruled by a unicorn General, and claim that he will bring liberation. Do any of you believe this?” Her face showed the hurt of this lack of faith. “Have I extorted my citizens and treated them ill? Have I led you into death to profit myself? Have I commanded you to fight for your freedom, while I have lounged indifferently? Have I not joined with you in the perils and hardships of war? Have I suffered no wounds with you?” she asked rhetorically, unable to contain her emotion as her one functional wing stirred on her side. “When we were defeated, I could have abandoned you to save myself. I could forever escape into the night and live on the edges of the world—as if I do not care! Have I not fought against Celestia with all of my strength to protect this land? If I had been cruel, and not good, she would have been content for me to rule under her. Do you think that this General, the ruthless enemy we have been fighting, who was raised up by the Empress for his vicious cunning, will be a better master?” “Now we are forced to rely on my sister to save our world. Do you think I wish this? Do you think her presence does not pain me? She has betrayed me for thousands of years—do you think I am one to trust her unduly? I have no choice in this matter. Remember that I once was not as I am. You are hundreds of years too young to remember the terror of Nightmare Moon. It is difficult to believe, but it is possible for her to be changed as I was. Whether or not this comes to pass, I have chosen to prolong the world, instead of killing us all out of rash vengeance. If any of you disagree, and no longer wish to follow me, I beg that you leave me at once.” No one accepted the invitation to go AWOL. Despite their doubts, they were moved by her impassioned speech. They trusted her all the more knowing that she shared their misgivings. Sidayana declared, “I will follow you,” at the same time that Applejack exclaimed, “Luna, you know we’re with ya!” Pinkie Pie piped in, “Ooh, ooh, me too!” Each pony agreed in turn—except Celestia and four of the wonder friends. Twilight and Rarity gave apologetic looks for their silence. Fluttershy didn’t look. Rainbow Dash observed the scene unaffectedly. When expectant eyes turned to them, Dash just said, “What?” The reluctant civilians and the two Solars were not going to pledge their loyalty to Luna, but everyone knew they were on board. “Thank you, all of you,” Luna said, feeling appreciated again. “We are stopped because one of the mutinous officers transmitted the location of Ruhama to our enemies. Solar forces await us there, so we will wait for reinforcements to take the city. For now we camp here.”
Prize of a LieChapter 34 A cry split the morning. Rainbow Dash and Applejack jumped to their hooves in readiness. Twilight rolled over and groaned at being rudely awakened. Through squinty eyes she saw Rarity sitting up and staring at her mirror with horror on her face. “What’s wrong?” Applejack asked urgently, ready to help with any emergency. Captain Dash had instinctively drawn her knife, but now she did not see anything to do with it. “It’s too awful!” Rarity wailed. “I have wrinkles.” “Don’t get yourself worked up, you don’t have wrinkles,” Twilight assured her. Looking closer however, the friendly magician’s eyes widened, and she added, “But, uh, if you did have wrinkles, it would be from worrying too much.” “AAAUUGGHH, I knew it, I do have wrinkles!” Rarity cried. Summoning her strength, she peeked again at the terrible vision in the mirror. She saw the white face she loved, but worn and weathered. The bags under her eyes might go away, but the folds on her cheeks were not the kind of thing that would come and go. Applejack scanned her worn-out face and suggested sympathetically, “Dang girl, maybe you SHOULD have a cigarette.” Pinkie Pie, still not comfortable with emotions besides happiness, smiled and fired off this gem: “Friends don’t get wrinkles, they get laugh lines.” “Oh, I’m hideous!” the queen of fabulosity moaned. “I’m getting old and… and frumpy!” Rainbow Dash sighed and put away her blade. “It’s not that bad,” she dismissed. Rarity was appalled. “Not… that… bad?!” she repeated in exasperation. The Solar Scout had meant no harm and shrugged. “Uh, yeah… Most of the officers I really respect have scars or wrinkles. It just means they have more experience.” She turned her head to show off her own scar to all present. “I haven’t even told any of you my scar story yet,” she noted eagerly. “Ooh, tell me, tell me!” piped Pinkie Pie. “I don’t want to be experienced,” Rarity whimpered, “I want to be beautiful.” Through this, two ponies had remained silent. Little Celestia wilted under Fluttershy’s accusing stare. Unable to get a word in without incriminating herself, she turned to meet the pegasus’s killer look. “Yikes, I thought her element was kindness,” she thought, and whispered, “Can you get her to go outside? Let me apologize to her in private.” Fluttershy nodded slightly, and stood up. “I… I have something to say,” she hesitantly announced. The others all looked her way, paying close attention to the uncharacteristic move. “I… you… um,” she mumbled. She gathered her strength and declared, “I think you’re prettier than a hickory tree.” The stares turned to confusion. “And, um, shadows make things look worse. Maybe you should step outside, and, um, see what the natural light says.” “Thank you, Fluttershy. You’re quite right, the lighting is bad for sure.” Rarity collected herself and left with a dignified gait. Twilight flumped back down to reclaim her morning rest. Rainbow Dash regaled the group with a tale of heroic exploits. Pinkie Pie soaked it up eagerly, but Applejack was more skeptical. Celestia slipped out unnoticed. She found Rarity panting with anxiety, as if her life was in the balance. Celestia waited quietly behind her. “This is a good view,” she thought. “Remember, you’re here for your life, not her flank,” she consciously chided. Uncontrolled, “A bonus?” shot through her mind. Rarity took a deep breath, steadied herself, and looked once more into the mirror. She cringed and stifled an “Eeep!” Dusk approached and consoled, “I understand how you feel. It’s okay. It’s nothing we can’t get through.” “How can it be okay when I have wrinkles?!” Rarity demanded. Her expression was lost and hopeless through the signs of age. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Celestia asserted. “Look here,” she said, indicating the cut on her breast. “I’ve had this scar for quite some time, but have you seen it on any broadcasts?” Rarity considered the question and, perplexed, shook her head. With hardly a stir from her horn Celestia replaced the illusion that always covered the blight, and smiled cunningly. “I don’t have a scar.” Concentrating on the unicorn’s distressed skin, she performed a similar spell—a disillusion. “Now you don’t have wrinkles.” Rarity felt her face and snatched up the mirror and greeted her usual good looks with a forceful sigh of relief. Her frown slowly reasserted. “Thank you, I suppose. I’ll know though, it won’t be real.” “That’s something to worry about if the world actually goes on,” Celestia dismissed. The diminutive duskling hung her head and lamented, “If I don’t stop it, I suppose everything beautiful will go away forever,” as if she doubted her chances. Rarity was pried away from her thoughts of herself and looked out to the horizon. “Do you think that’s really true? What a horrible thought.” Celestia followed her view and reconsidered, “On second thought, the trees and the decorations of civilization will wither, but much of what is really beautiful will remain. Gems will still be in the dark of the earth and stars will still reflect off the rolling waves of the ocean.” “I thought beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” the unicorn warily repeated. “Wouldn’t all those things be unfulfilled if there was no one to see them?” Celestia had intended her to grasp that, but only subconsciously. Despite Rarity’s preoccupations, she had a quick wit. “Well shit,” the slippery harbinger reacted flatly. Rarity squinted sideways at her supposed helper. She guessed that Celestia was too intelligent to stumble so on philosophical matters. The old ruler seemed nervous under her scrutiny. The little gray thing bulged her eyes and started to shake. With a sudden realization, Rarity asked, “Are you alright?” “Help,” Celestia whispered between quick, irregular breaths. “Get help.” “Twilight!” Rarity barked at the tent before galloping towards the rest of the camp. Celestia tried to keep herself under control and somehow stop whatever triggered the episode, but it came anyway. It came hard. A flesh-ember started deep inside her and embedded in a lung. She cried aloud to expel the scorching air and smoke, and stumbled forward. She coughed uncontrollably, but began to march forward. Another dried out her intestines as it crossed them. Doctor Sparkle emerged from the tent and ran to her. “What’s wrong? Hold still!” The damned pony continued ahead as if she could leave it behind. More excruciating sparks; her stomach heaved, competing with the coughs, but what came out was a burning lump that stuck to her esophagus. She paused in her stride, faint from lack of breath and in suspense as it threatened to make another opening in her throat. Twilight perceived the phenomenon and fired a bolt of magic from her horn that quenched the unnatural ember. Celestia swallowed to painfully clear her throat so that she could cough some more, and resumed her course. “Stop, don’t,” Twilight ordered incompletely in urgent frustration. The afflicted alicorn stammered through blood-stained lips, “I have to—“ An unbearable jet of heat came up from between her hind legs and caused them to fail as it impacted her spine. She moaned, gritted her teeth, and pulled herself forward on two hooves. One angry coal in her waist caused her to become incontinent before lodging on her flank; Twilight grimaced and extinguished it. Another attack grazed her skull, causing her to finally collapse. Rarity returned with help. As she arrived, Luna cleared out the brush and obstacles from where her stricken sister had wandered. Medic Redheart and her assistants assessed the situation while they let the magicians do what they could. “Prepare the crystalloid solution for fluid therapy,” she ordered. Luna and Twilight took some of the heat out of the condition, but could not stop it until it had run its course. Lying half-consciously in her own blood and feces, Celestia clung to life. Wet towels were draped over her and IVs started as intensive burn treatment began. Rarity watched the scene despite its vulgarity. A Darkfold Star caught her eye. Starved for light, it had run up the trunk of a nearby tree. Now it was shriveled and its leaves were losing their color. The once-stunning bloom was wilted and dangled just beyond the place where Celestia fell. It had dropped most of its pedals, showing a bare brown stalk in the center. Her heart was heavy as she considered the plight of beauty in herself, the Princess, and the magnificent flower. One does not grow younger, but the latter two could possibly be saved. Nothing so fabulous should be allowed to die out, she decided. She would not let it.
RuhamaChapter 34 The Everfree Forest thinned as it lapped against the foothills of a mountain range. Under the triple-peak, the ruins of a once-great city spread across the landscape and capped the hills with broken towers. The full moon favored the city with an unfair share of light. It focused further, giving the limestone rubble an ethereal glow. The moonbeam tightened and swept across the scene. The streets were not deserted, but rustled and murmured their disturbance at the rude scrutiny. The pale shaft found its object; it fixed upon a craft that had hung silently and inconspicuously. The airship came to life as it mustered its engines in response. Naval guns boomed from somewhere in the dark sky. Troops in the scattered trees gave a battle cry and rushed to the city’s edge and the staccato of small arms echoed in the rubble. The warship maneuvered rapidly, but could not shake the heavenly spotlight. The bright craft fired toward the muzzle flares of its concealed assailants, for a moment seeming like an avenging angel as the moonlight reflected dangerously on the emblem of the sun. Then it was hit. The airship dropped lower and bled flames as it took two more impacts. Satisfied, the Nightmare Moon shone evenly over the earth once again. The sound of fierce fighting continued in the ruins. A shadowy flock landed behind the lines, doubling the din of combat. A bright flash in the city showed its skyline in silhouette and gave an alien scream that overpowered the frantic noise. As the horrid sound trailed off, cries of panic drowned out shouted orders. Shapes of routed Solar ponies and creatures poured out of the dead city and took their turn to disappear in the night. A grounded sky carriage creaked along an aisle of short grass where no trees grew. It must have been an ancient road that led into the city. Celestia and Redheart, M.D. sat onboard and the six friends, minus the Lunar soldiers, followed behind. The ailing alicorn had recovered the full use of her body but was very weary. The doctor administered another pill with a glass of water and instructed her patient to rest. Celestia could do nothing but hope that the medicine would slow the illness long enough. Twilight trotted close behind the carriage and said, “Excuse me, Doctor Redheart?” The chief medic turned and listened. “I respect your expertise, but will you give her a higher dosage? Whatever happens, she only needs to make it a few more hours, but we need her condition not to interfere until then.” The doctor shook her head, and leaned down to explain in a low tone, “Internal combustion is not a medical condition. I only gave her painkillers.” Twilight exclaimed in a whisper, “What!? That’s almost a placebo. Does Luna know about this?” Doctor Redheart nodded. “I’m treating her as best I can, although—“ she politely stopped herself. “What is it?” Twilight prodded, reaching for anything that could be helpful. “No, I was just thinking,” the doctor dismissed. They stared at each other for a moment and she could tell Twilight’s interest would not fade. “If Celestia was in my hospital—and it was just her on life support, not the sun—I would unplug her and treat one of her victims instead.” “You’re a healer, don’t say that!” Twilight protested. The M.D. shot back, “What would you do, Doctor Sparkle?” Twilight was silent and fell back, contemplating her answer. She didn’t have one. The little gray one put her head back down before her reluctant caretaker saw that she was listening. She did not hear everything, but emotion had made them misjudge their volume. What the good doctor said was right. That’s why Celestia had done what she had—but that only made it more true. Luna and Applejack came out to meet them as they reached the city. “It kills my ears every time you do that,” the major commented to her leader. She spoke loudly to overcome the ringing in her head. “Yes, but much less killing was needed that way,” the warrior Princess responded thoughtfully. Applejack raised her eyebrows and complimented genuinely, “You’re a real wonder.” “In truth, your friends taught me this,” the Princess admitted. Twilight caught back up to hear what was being said. The hollowed forms of the urban landscape cast strange shadows around them. The wagon bounced roughly over loose bricks as it passed by a decaying structure. Celestia raised her head to ask her sister, “What is this place? How do you know it?” “Ruhama,” Luna answered reverently. “This city deserves our respect. The race that built it are they who long ago discovered the Elements of Harmony, and the Elements were kept here, long before Canterlot existed.” Celestia wondered why she was not aware of this. The answer was probably that her vanity would not permit studies of humbling history. Twilight asked, “I thought that was just a myth. How do you know it’s true?” “I know it,” the Princess declared solemnly. She surveyed the rubble with apparent familiarity and sadness, though she had not been there before. Pinkie Pie appeared as they crossed a side street. “Hey, are all you guys headed to that super special magic thing? Can I come?” “If you are finished with your duties,” Luna replied responsibly. The young engineer nodded and darted back to the meeting she had left. She had analyzed the terrain and prepared some recommendations for the defense of the city and the mountain. She arrived where the officers where circled around a map, but to her chagrin it was still not her turn to speak. She looked back to see her friends disappearing around the corner as they moved on through the city. She huffed, and attempted patience. It was not her strong point. “What if they get too far away and I can’t find them, and I miss out on all the cool stuff, and what if they need me?” she worried. More waiting. She panted and began to sweat. Finally a bearded old lieutenant instructed, “Pinkie Pie, give us your report.” She unloaded hastily, “We can use the Solars’ fortifications, except on the northeast spur of the city, which won’t do us any good, anypony in there would get cut off and the guests would see them before we shout ‘surprise’, I mean open fire. We don’t have many mines with us, but we should put what we have on the approach in between these hills here. These towers here and here could be toppled across the street to help protect our flank, but not this one, its foundation is too chubby.” She shifted nervously as she awaited a verdict on her proposals. “Hm,” the lieutenant considered, “someone suggested we put those mines between the city and the mountain.” “Don’t be silly,” she replied spontaneously, and smiled sheepishly as she realized her superior officers might not appreciate the expression. “I mean, if they’re coming in that way, we’re probably already dead.” He nodded. She squirmed about like a little one who needs the potty. He dismissed her with a hoof. “Thankyousir!” she exclaimed as she galloped away. As the group reached the base of the mountain, soldiers pointed the way to the spot where a cave entrance had been discovered. They ascended the mountainside and arrived to find an odd commotion. The trouble centered on an agitated unicorn sitting on a rock by the mouth of a passage that was cut into the stone. Scattered around the piece of fallen archway that was her seat were empty bottles, and the place reeked with a sour alcoholic odor. A soldier ordered over his drawn weapon, “Put the bottle down and step away from the hole.” “She’s no Solar,” another observed. “Ma’am, just calm down and you’ll be fine.” “Trixie will not calm down,” the belligerent squatter growled. “Keep your grubby hooves off Trixie’s hole.” A flask danced in the air under the intoxicated unicorn’s control. It swooped down at the threatening soldier. He dodged it with a step back and raised his weapon again, though with disgust he realized it was an empty threat. They knew they would not kill her or back down, but they hesitated to tackle her since they did not know the extent of her magical ability. “What in tarnation?!” Applejack exclaimed in disbelief. The wandering performer turned towards the notable party in similar shock. She squinted at Twilight through puffy eyelids and accused, “You! I see what’s going on here! It wasn’t enough that you all humiliated me and had me banished from everywhere, so you sent your goons out here to finish me off!” “Dusk” dismounted her transport and hailed her friend. “Hey Trixie. Don’t worry about them, they’re here to help me. But how in Equestria did you end up here?” Luna fired a quick pulse of energy into the unicorn that instantly sobered her. Trixie inhaled sharply and blinked at them as the fog cleared from her mind. “Oh, it’s you. I thought you were dead. I guess you actually got what you needed, huh?” Her tone was cautiously pleased; she was glad to see Dusk, but terribly uncomfortable in her present company. “Trixie’s grandmother used to tell her about a place where the REAL magic was,” she explained. “Trixie wanted to know what that felt like, just for once before it’s over. She found the city, but then the Solars moved in so she took shelter up here. Turns out this is where it’s at. No idea what to do with it though.” Luna waved her soldiers aside and stepped forward. “What makes you say it is yours?” “It’s Trixie’s because she’s a—“ she paused with hidden alarm and embarrassment. “You know, she’s one of them.” She wilted as Luna approached her and looked quizzically down on her, but she could not break the stare once their eyes locked. The Princess looked into her for a moment and remarked, “You do not seem as such.” Trixie winced at the observation. “I understand,” the Princess allowed as though overlooking an offence. Her tone was soft, however, and Trixie was encouraged, less by her words than by an inexplicable sense of connection. “You are a magician, yes? We will go into our cave and you will help me raise the sun.” Trixie’s eyes brightened at the suggestion. “Really? Trixie can do that?” Luna nodded. The stage magician’s pride was restored, and she quickly took on the bravado of her performance persona. “The great and powerful Trixie can help you, of course!” “What just happened?” Rainbow Dash interjected. Trixie shifted the topic, but she was honestly curious. “Seriously, what IS going on here?” Since Luna seemed to be maintaining her cryptic disposition, Dash let it slide. “Well, you should know, since you’re part of it now. We’re fixing Celestia with ancient magic,” she revealed. Trixie looked back to Luna and asked doubtfully, “YOU want to help Celestia? She’s an awful bitch.” “I know I am,” Celestia answered, “but they need me to control the sun.” Trixie’s jaw dropped. “She—you—“ she stammered. She looked around at the others for confirmation. “What the Fffffff—WHAT?!” Luna proceeded into the cave. Trixie stared at Dusk and expressed her confused feelings, “I want to like you. This is so wrong.” She retreated from her mixed emotions to follow closely at Luna’s heels. The unicorns lit the way as they all moved into the rock cut passage that led into the mountain. They traversed a considerable distance through the subterranean corridor without sight of the end, but they continued into the dark. The column split up as some ponies pressed ahead, eager to reach their destination. Celestia lagged behind Rarity with heavy steps. Fluttershy silently came up beside her and said kindly, “Thank you for fixing what you did to Rarity. Maybe you’re not such a bad pony after all.” Celestia shook her head with regret. The two of them almost ran into Rarity, who was stopped in the middle of the hall. Echoes had carried the words to her ears. “Fixing what?” she demanded. “What she did to you last night,” the shy pony explained innocently. “I hope you forgave her, since she undid it and apologized. She doesn’t want to be bad, isn’t that right, Duskie?” Celestia was frozen in alarm. Rarity’s temper rose quickly. “Apologize? …You tricked me! You made me think I had wrinkles, and would never really be beautiful again!” “What happened?” the well-meaning pegasus inquired. She thought she had resolved the situation. “I didn’t fix it, I made it worse,” the little alicorn confessed to Fluttershy. “Why would you treat me like that?” Rarity balanced a tone between hurt and anger. Celestia looked her in the eyes, but only for a moment. “I’m sorry. I don’t want anything to happen to you, but you’re the generous one. If there was another way, I wouldn’t have done it, it just made sense.” “How does that make sense?” Rarity questioned firmly. “WHY?” “This place can save my life—but not for free. It has to take a life,” Celestia revealed at last. “Please understand, I had to make sure somepony would do it. Who would die for me, who knows what I am?” “Don’t you realize I would have given my life for a friend?” Rarity declared painfully. “I thought you were a friend. I was a friend to you. Is this what you really are? You—you would kill your friend? No one would die for such an ungrateful, scheming betrayer. Perhaps for the sun, but not for you.” Fluttershy’s shocked expression turned into her sharpest stare as she finally comprehended. “You!” she accused loudly, “You are BAD! You said you wouldn’t take my friends! I won’t let you.” Celestia cringed away from the usually gentle pegasus. The feral pony came at her and pinned her to the wall. “You don’t hurt my friends!” she growled fiercely. “I should have had Ripper…” Fluttershy stopped short of saying it; she knew she shouldn’t have. Celestia understood completely. It was tit for tat. She tried to “eat” one of Fluttershy’s friends, so Fluttershy wanted Ripper to eat her. The slighted pegasus withdrew back into herself as suddenly as she had burst out. It was a shock to her kind nature that she wanted someone to die; she was both angry and ashamed. Rarity came alongside the yellow pony to comfort her and gently draw her away. “It’s alright Fluttershy. Thank you for being angry for me, but we have to be better than her.” Just on that cue, the unicorn took up the cool airs of a lady to address the situation properly. “I give to those who need it, but I won’t let it be stolen.” With magic and fluid motions, she slipped quickly out of her special gown. Having illustrated her point, she continued in metaphor, “I would have worn the dress, but since you tried to force it on me, you’ve lost the customer. I’m not your mannequin.” Rainbow Dash arrived on the scene and demanded, “What’s going on? Hurry up.” There was a moment of strained silence as Celestia and Fluttershy turned their nervous and expectant gaze to Rarity. To their shock, the lady answered discretely, “We had to stop a moment.” “Are you done?” Captain Dash insisted. Rarity nodded. It was time to go, but she had assumed a pose that gave the impression she did not intend to go farther. Perhaps she belonged on that spot. Everyone else could move, but she would not be bothered. Fluttershy was confused, but remained by her real friend. Celestia understood. The pressure was on for them to move, but Rarity was making her go first. She retreated guiltily down the passage. After an artful pause Rarity began to move as well. Now that she understood her stalker, she would not be followed again.
Heavy ChoicesChapter 35 Rainbow Dash, Celestia’s guardian, brought her charge to a spacious chamber on the other side of the mountain. The far end of the room was open to the air. There the floor dropped off into a jagged precipice. Beneath stretched the glassy surface of a lake cradled between the mountains, and beyond that, the fateful eastern horizon. The others were gathered about the extraordinary centerpiece of the ancient architecture. A huge, multifaceted spike of clear crystal jutted down from the high ceiling. Beneath it a round section of floor was raised a pony’s shoulder above the rest. A second stone table was ringed by smaller deposits of gemstone that protruded from its edge like miniature battlements. An unexplained golden light filled the crystals and danced through their crisp, translucent features. Luna informed Twilight and Trixie, “You cannot reach the sun, but I am not strong enough to take this task alone. When Sidayana feels my signal, the magicians outside will give their power into my aura. You must link your energy with me as well.” Twilight tried not to blush again. Doctor Sparkle set aside her personal discomfort, reminding herself, “It’s just professional.” She took a deep breath and offered her horn to the night Princess’s touch. Luna stood aloof. “That will not be necessary,” she said, relieving both of them from the impropriety. As Twilight understood that there were less intimate ways to complete the transaction, she shot an exasperated look towards Celestia. The cursed alicorn shrugged, and returned an apologetic yet amused expression. Twilight realized with consternation that she had initiated their exchange in the library. “Both of you, simply summon your strength and allow my spell to work.” The three of them lit their horns, and as each unicorn released control a faint streak of ether passed to the Princess. “Now we are ready. Nevertheless, we will only be able to hold the sun above the horizon for a short time.” Rarity and Fluttershy quietly entered and stood inconspicuously behind the others. Celestia was uncomfortable again with her guilty secret lurking in the room. All eyes turned to her, and the company parted to usher her towards the ritual platform. It was time to face the truth and the unknown. Dusk approached it fearfully. Exerting her weak legs and wings, she heaved herself on top of it. As she gazed up at the glowing spike, now pointing down at her, she could sense that its energy was more ancient than the city. She remembered with dread the awful power that had so easily undone her. She turned back to them and, hanging her head, tried to find a way to tell the cruel news. “What is it?” asked Twilight, eager to complete her mission. “I should have told you before,” she confessed. “For me to be restored, somepony has to be sacrificed,” she continued mournfully. “What do you mean?” Twilight said, as her misgivings about trusting unknown magic resurfaced. “I stand here, and a pony stands there,” she said, indicating beneath her and then at the second pedestal nearby. “When the sun comes up, from what I understood, the crystal will take life from there and put it here, into me. I’m not sure the pony who gives will have any left.” The ponies’ eyes widened as they took in the situation. They looked at each other, and some of them backed up a step. Ever protective of her comrades, Applejack demanded indignantly, “You mean you brought us here just for you to suck the life out of another poor innocent pony?!” Dusk shot back with weary frustration, “I came here because this is the only way I know to bring back the sun. I doomed the whole world, and this is the one chance I have to make up some of what I’ve done.” She lay down, resolute and fatigued. “Whatever you do, I’m staying here. If no one wants to try this crazy magic, if no one is ready to die, that’s fine. But I’M dying, and this is my last chance to do something good with my life. I’m not moving.” “Well, I ain’t giving my life to the likes of you!” Major Applejack declared. “I’d pony up for Luna and Equestria, but this is the craziest thing there is! Me and every Rough Rider worth their salt would have the great white tyrant banished to the sun, or worse! No pony here would be willin’ if they knew the truth about you.” As she looked around the chamber full of nodding heads, she understood the full import of what she had just said. “Well, no, wait now…” Luna clarified the boundaries of the discussion authoritatively: “Even if it would work, no pony will be sacrificed against their will.” “Applejack’s right, though,” Twilight acknowledged, “No Lunar soldier would be willing. It has to be one of us.” Twilight hung her head, and closed her eyes. Was this it? “I should do it. I have been Celestia’s disciple my whole life. I couldn’t see what she had become, and I helped her make a mess of things. I guess it would be worth it if I could have Celestia live on after me, the Celestia I always thought I was serving. That Celestia was wonderful.” With a glance to Rarity, Celestia worried that she did not live up to her pupil’s hopes. “No,” said Luna sadly, “If it were only a matter of remorse I would do it. I am her sister. And when she started to go wrong--” regret stifled Luna’s speech for a moment. Regaining herself, she confessed, “When she started to go wrong, when I could have helped her, I became Nightmare Moon instead. However, I am required to complete this ritual, and whatever happens, Equestria will need me when this is over. As for you, Twilight Sparkle, do not forget yourself: you may be the most magical unicorn here. I will need your help.” With the finality of these statements, all their minds rushed to fill in the next logical conclusion. Sooner or later, everyone started looking at the “Guardian of Celestia”. Rainbow Dash sensed the attention and stood perspiring and regretting the gaudy Solar emblem on her vest. “Who, me? Are you saying I should?” Rainbow Dash blurted incredulously. That was exactly what they meant. Feeling a twinge of shame, she recovered, “You know I’d never back down if there was a fighting chance, but, like, dead?” “Oh,” Twilight said, “I just thought since you were so… loyal.” It was true. Rainbow Dash wondered what was wrong with her now. She thought aloud, “Well, I think I found out a couple days ago where my loyalties really were. I disobeyed Solar orders from the highest levels to save you and Rarity. All along, since we met up—you know, with the Elements of Harmony and everything—I knew I would do anything for my friends. I was almost ready to do it, too. I was about to do it to save you, Twilight. But now my friends are safe, and I just… I don’t know. I don’t know Dusk, and I guess it turns out I didn’t really know Celestia after all.” “THE WORLD WILL PERISH IN DARKNESS!” a deranged voice yelled. It was Pinkie Pie, sensitive as ever. Having so effectively gotten everypony’s attention, she giggled nervously. “Um, I think, my tail is twitching!” she invented, wagging her puffy pink tail in all directions. No one really expected her to do it anyway, but if nopony stood up, she would be right. Rainbow Dash began to reconsider. The end of the world meant the end of her friends, too. Tears welled up as she thought about the possibility that she would never be a Wonderbolt. Forget the Wonderbolts, what if she never felt the wind rush under her wings as she soared through the open sky? Every time she did that she felt so alive. But with her friends on the line, how could she be so selfish? “I guess, I’ll do it,” Dash said, falteringly. “Well, um, look, is there any other way?” “Yes,” came the audible answer. “Huh?” was all Rainbow Dash could manage. That wasn’t the answer she expected. A white unicorn stepped forward from where she had been forgotten and overlooked. “I will do it.” “Oh, Rarity, no!” Applejack pleaded, suddenly replacing her harsh tone. Celestia’s jaw dropped and Fluttershy gave a gasp. “Why would you do that?” Twilight honestly asked. Rarity answered calmly, “It’s simple. All my life I have been in search of beauty. I have worked so hard to create and keep it, starting with myself, but also my house, my town and my world. Ever since the troubles started, I didn’t know what to do. All I could do was to carry on. I sent out fashions and fabrics to somehow fight the ugliness and pain that gripped everypony. Now everything that is fair and lovely is dying, and I can save it. It’s what I’ve tried to do all along.” Fluttershy panted, whimpered, and almost growled. She wanted to jump in the way and blurt out that something was wrong, something was sinister. The only thing that held her back was that her friend did not want to be stopped. Celestia was astonished. She had made a mistake; it shouldn’t work. Yet Rarity was in the middle of the speech that had been prepared for her. “Rarity, why’d you have to go and be so generous?” Rainbow Dash complained, once again yanked onto the scene by her own character. “Come back here, I’ll do it!” “No, Rainbow Dash, you really don’t want to. The sky should really have you and your rainbows in it. I’ve always dreamed that royalty would appreciate my work. I can go in peace knowing the graceful Princess will carry on after me. And my sister! Sweetie Belle deserves to live in a beautiful world. I know in my soul, this is right,” she spoke pleasantly, moving past Rainbow Dash as she pardoned her and approached Applejack. She took out a jeweled mane brush and gave it to the reluctant country pony. “While I’ve been in Canterlot, everything has been clean and controlled, which I quite enjoyed. It also made me realize I missed you.” She passed over to Twilight. “As for you, Twilight, I never understood your magic, but when you showed me the magic of friendship you helped me see myself in a new way,” she said, hoofing her fellow unicorn a silver mirror. She was out of trinkets when she reached Pinkie Pie, but she knew that wouldn’t matter. The teary-eyed party pony was bouncing on the tips of her hooves holding herself back. “It’s alright, Pinkie Pie,” Rarity invited, though she knew what would follow would be un-ladylike. The tremendous bear hug messed up her mane, but that wasn’t what finally brought tears to her eyes. When she was finally released, she picked her way on dainty hoofsteps to Fluttershy. The sensitive pegasus was once again hiding from the situation under her mane. Why was she still quiet? She frantically considered, “Am I being good, or too shy to help?” Rarity stood patiently until Fluttershy sniffled and looked up. With renewed fear and anger, the yellow one stared sideways at the duskling who still pretended to be helpless. Rarity put out a hoof to capture her attention. Fluttershy timidly met the hoof with her own and held it there, and they looked into each other’s eyes. Rarity’s serene disposition reassured her sensitive companion, and she whispered, “Don’t blame her for this. It’s for my friends, for you.” She turned and strutted right up to Celestia, who was still confused. The unicorn shifted from peaceful to defiant. “Do you still think you did this?” she whispered, then commanded, “Say ‘thank you’. Say it out loud.” Celestia realized her schemes had been defeated; Rarity’s integrity had so triumphed that she was above the situation. She would give as her heart led her whether or not she had been betrayed and without the need to react to the situation. “I’m sorry for everything,” the humbled Princess said in the midst of them all. “Thank you.” When she was done saying goodbye, Rarity approached the platform that was ringed with crystals. Mounting it and posing at the top, she indulged, “Stylish, isn’t it?” The death device lit her like a Vaudeville stage. She looked thoughtfully into the crystals that rose up around her and studied the golden light that danced inside them. “This may seem foolish,” she admitted, “but I trust it because it’s beautiful.”
Celestia's VictoryChapter 36 Dusk closed her eyes for a moment and looked again at the defiant unicorn. Had Rarity triumphed? Was she not standing on her grave, just as Celestia had planned? “I must still have the knack,” the old manipulator discovered. “Even when she knows I bent her mind to do it, she can’t stop herself.” She held back an exclamation. “I did it,” she noted with satisfaction. “I saved the world. Whatever that thing was, it tried to take my power and life. But I kept my mind and got myself here. I convinced Twilight to rescue me, and to bring Rarity. I opened the Vault and fought through that book’s tricks until it gave me the answer. I put the elemental six back together and gained the use of Luna’s power. Now, when I drink in Rarity’s beautiful essence, I will retake my life and my power. It’s sad that she won’t survive, but a wise ruler has to make sacrifices to protect her empire. I won’t make the same mistake as my sister. I have learned how I need to change. Cruelty is dangerous, and living in harmony with those around me is a better way. I was lost, lost in the bad ways of thinking and doing, but now I’ve come back into balance. I will be a good ruler now, and only do ill when it is necessary. I’m a more sensible Princess than Luna that way.” Luna reached out to the sun as she had these past several days of dusk; but this time she threw her strength into it. The enormous burden lifted slowly and sapped her energy quickly. Twilight, Trixie, and her entourage outside joined her exertions with their own magic. “I do wish there was another way,” Dusk lamented to herself. “Or do I?” Dusk caught herself gazing hungrily at the model equine body that was about to come into her possession. She was happy with her selection. Happy is a simple word. In a sentimental way, she deeply regretted that such a noble soul would be lost. However, it was quite understandable for her to be relieved to escape death and eagerly anticipate being revived, to know wellness and strength once more. That wasn’t all she was feeling. “No, I would never—“ Celestia thought, but her wings betrayed her mood as they lifted rigidly off her back. She flexed them self-consciously, hiding the physiological result of her internal condition. Why shouldn’t she think of Rarity that way, after the way the unicorn flirted like a dirty ho on the forest trail? Celestia reassured herself that she was doing this for the right reasons, but what if she wasn’t? After all this, was she no different than she started? Control the mind. Use the body. Experience the thrill. That was the formula she knew. She had recently lived like the prey of fate, but her latest decisions had rejected that in favor of being a predator again. She had stalked Rarity all the way from Canterlot, and now she was closing in. She was ashamed, but she could not release the mare from her grip or deny the sensation. She must control, must dominate, so that somehow she would not be dominated. “And it makes me feel fucking high,” she admitted with alarm. She hid her face but could not hide any further. Celestia found herself revolting and insidious, and at the same time the center of attention and even hope. The coming light was supposed to be her healing, but she looked up at it with fear. She was afraid of herself. The sun’s warmth surrounded her. A bright aura lifted up from her—no, it was brightly illuminated steam and smoke. She gasped in terror, this time not of her dark nature, but of the ferocious anger reserved for beings such as her. It was the heat of death, not life, upon her, scalding her. She screamed like she had screamed only once before, as flames sprouted from her flesh, eating inwards towards her core. Rarity also cried out as strange tides of unfamiliar energy stirred through the chamber. The magicians hesitated a moment, unsure what success was supposed to look like. A blue blur knocked the flaming alicorn backwards from the altar of her doom, and though she flailed in agony, Captain Dash held her firm in the low shadow of the ancient platform. Luna and the others dropped the sun, and the Princess chased it to the edge of the cliff. There she summoned up a jet of water from the lake below. The stream arced through the air and splashed down on the burning body. Dash released the extinguished alicorn, who lay limp, and checked for signs of life. Little Celestia was badly burned and barely conscious. She coughed uncontrollably and gasped for air, though the oxygen fueled the pain. Luna and Twilight once again reached into her body with their minds to hold her back from the brink of death. After a minute of tense struggle, Celestia was clear of the episode, but twice as weak as before. “I don’t think she can survive that again,” Twilight warned. Rarity was lying in a heap with a hoof over her face. Applejack and Fluttershy rushed to her without a glance towards their old enemy. “Are you alright? Please be alright!” Applejack begged and lifted the unicorn’s dainty chin so she could look her in the eyes. Rarity’s skin was still warm, but her eyes were totally blank. “Oh no,” AJ lamented, peering at her friend whose face was frozen in an expression of shock. Pinkie Pie came out of nowhere and thrust herself onto the scene. She gasped, put her hooves to her mouth and exclaimed, “IT SWALLOWED HER SOUL!” “No, Pinkie Pie,” Rarity finally cringed and cried, “It’s worse!” “Oh, I’m so glad you’re alive!” Fluttershy quietly exclaimed. “But how?” Applejack wondered. “I heard you scream in pain when the crystals were draining you.” “Oh, not that,” Rarity dismissed, “Those crystals just gave me a bit of a buzz. I screamed when I found out what it did to my mane,” she said, gesturing to her mane which, they just now noticed, was amazingly frizzy. Loaded with static, her mane and tail poked stiff hairs in all directions. She burst out, “I just can’t be seen by royalty looking like this, I’ll be finished! This is the WORST thing that could POSSIBLY happen! The worst thing.” “Need a hoof, partner?” Applejack said, extending the jeweled brush to Rarity. “Oh, yes! I didn’t think you’d understand,” the fashionable unicorn exclaimed as the brush leapt out of Applejack’s hoof and began dancing around her neck rhythmically. When Twilight and Rainbow Dash were satisfied that Celestia’s condition was stable, they joined their friends. Rarity knew how to groom herself by heart but retrieved her mirror from Twilight just to make sure. In no time she was her immaculate and collected self again. “I never did understand you,” Applejack admitted, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t be there for my friend.” Rarity looked up to say “Thank you,” but the dam had already burst and her friends were already embracing her from all sides. “We thought we wouldn’t see you again!” Fluttershy said something really nice but no one heard her. Rarity appreciated it anyway. For the first time that day, Applejack wore a genuine smile. Hope had just left them, but for now she was happy to have her friend back. Trixie’s surly, hung over expression returned. “That was supposed to save the world? Well now we’re—“ “Stop!” Luna ordered sharply. “Do not say it. We will not despair of Equestria. If we give up, everything we do will be meaningless. We will not be here again, so I will stay here until I have succeeded.” Comprehending glances were exchanged among the friends, and they knew their response would be the same as that of the moon Princess. They would live as if they had hope. There was no reason to hold back, no room for selfishness in the face of such finality. Pinkie Pie stifled an outburst. She took a firm hold on her tail to deny its signal, and did her best to keep her ears calm. They twitched nevertheless. Her mane sank and there was fear on her face, but she was ashamed to bring bad news after what had just been spoken. Applejack was always wary for her friend’s warning, and asked calmly, “Pinkie Pie, is it true?” Pinkie gulped and nodded. “It’s alright.” The major turned to her commander-in-chief and announced, “Ma’am, we have contact.” "My brother's here," Twilight said with a lump in her throat. Luna acknowledged. “You two may go. Twilight, please remain here with me. I hope to need you.” With that she dropped the moon. Only the light of the shimmering crystals remained. Applejack moved to Captain Dash and drew her revolver. “I don’t understand it, but somehow you’re a Solar and you’re also my friend.” She handed the weapon to the Solar Scout, who received it solemnly. Applejack charged her, “Take care of Rarity and Fluttershy, and Celestia if ya must. It’s an honor to finally serve with ya.” Rainbow Dash saluted her rival and comrade. Pinkie Pie came to Applejack’s side and held out a hoof to her old pegasus playmate. “Morsa…” she weakly started. “Mors,” Dash responded, and gave the hoof pound. There were no muffins this time. Pinkie Pie sniffed and wouldn’t pull her hoof away. “Come on, our folks need us,” Applejack gently urged, and the two began to walk the passage through the mountain. Thunder rumbled in the cloudless night. They moved into a trot and then a gallop.
Blood for TimeChapter 37 Major Applejack and Private Pie barreled down the slope as moonlight receded from the landscape. The jumbled noises of weapons fire rose out of the distance ahead. By the time they reached the city, the darkness was thick and oppressive. Applejack was forced to slow down to retrace their route. Though they stumbled on debris a few times, they made good headway towards the front. The pace of gunfire and explosions slowed as they travelled, but each sound was louder as they neared the danger. The first movement of the battle was already finished when they arrived. From their concealed positions at the edge of the city, the Lunar army caught the enemy infantry crossing open ground. The Solars took considerable casualties before abandoning their initial advance. Once the defenders had made themselves known, the heavy industrial firepower of the Empire honed in on them. The rumble Applejack and Pinkie Pie had heard from the other side of the mountain was the barrage of the Solar armada against the steps of the ancient metropolis. Facing naval artillery and tanks, the Lunars retreated further into the city, where they would be more difficult to detect. The bombardment ceased. Four Lunar warships had regrouped from elsewhere in Equestria; three destroyers and one cruiser could not hold off the large Imperial fleet, but they could slow them down. The outnumbered vessels sheltered behind the triple peaks while the first destroyer charged out boldly. Its guns were silent so that it would be harder to detect in the darkness. Instead it launched a volley of torpedoes in a wide spread. Once the Imperial captains realized there were warheads in the air, they were forced to hold back and concentrate on evasive maneuvers. Applejack asked the first ponies she encountered, “Where are the Rough Riders?” “Down the line that way, only you better hurry before it gets hot again,” a soldier answered. Now the numerically superior enemy infantry would fight them in an even environment. “Sure would help if we could see where we were going,” the major grumbled half to herself. “And they call us nightsiders,” he quipped. “Take this.” He hoofed her a flashlight. She illuminated herself to tip her hat and was off again, travelling much quicker. “Manehattanites,” she chuckled under her breath, this time gratefully. They could hear the fighting intensify elsewhere as they arrived to their own unit. Big Macintosh motioned her behind a jagged, partially collapsed wall that stretched across a significant part of their line, and gave her his pistol. Suddenly, hooves beat the earth. A crowd of ponies rounded a corner and rushed down the street toward them. The Rough Riders fired into the dark mass, but they could not see the effect of their action. The enemy was upon them in a moment, but a second volley of shots blunted the charge. Most of the Solars turned back to find cover opposite of the Lunar line, but one fanatic pressed forward into the midst of his foes. As he sank to the ground from a mortal wound, the grenade he was holding exploded, and the Rough Riders lost three of their number. Big Mac took advantage of the brief opportunity to step forward and claim a submachine gun from the kill zone. He returned and gave his rifle to his sister. The Solars waited to see if they would be assisted by their heavy units again. Somewhere beyond their sight, the Lunar troops could hear the growl of a tank’s engine. With a clunk and a change in tone, it shifted gears; again, and it reversed. The thing continued back and forth, trying to find a way through to the fight. The fleet had outdone itself, and the massive stone buildings they had toppled made the area practically impassible to vehicles. The Solar troops realized they would have to push through the opposition themselves, and a street-to-street shootout began. Pinkie Pie hid in a corner and cowered with her hooves on her head. She was supposed to be a soldier, but her senses were overwhelmed. She whined and quivered with fear. Her fear was crushing, like she was about to die. She could feel death happening. She regained herself as the sensation waned, but it came back suddenly, and she collapsed shivering again. The ground also shivered under the pounding of war, dislodging loose stones from the skeleton of the structure they were sheltered in. She quickly pushed herself backwards by a few hoof-breadths; one of the rocks fell right in front of her. She stared at it where it bounced. Her eyes widened. She had felt the rock falling, just like she had felt death—it wasn’t her death. A moment of thought later, she lifted her head curiously and examined her surroundings. She glanced about, ears alert. Then she ran and pounced on a nearby Rough Rider, knocking him prone. Bullets impacted just beyond them. “What the hell, Pinkie?” he protested. Nose to nose, she informed in monotone, “You just died.” She rolled off of him. He cocked his head at her at first, but then tipped his hat. Then he was back in position, and aiming to shoot his killer. Pinkie Pie gasped and cracked a slight smile. She tensed, waited, and then scrambled over the debris to fling herself on another comrade who was next to Applejack. Ricocheting fragments from that death-bullet stung her side, but with the rush she was getting, she barely felt it. The major saw her friend’s exploits and demanded, “What’s going on?” “Oh, these two fellas just not-died,” Pinkie quipped with a grin. Without a second thought to the weirdness, Applejack took it in and exclaimed, “Shit, why are we not-dying so fast!?” Pinkie Pie wasn’t there to answer her question. The pink mare hopped and bounced back the other way. She laughed and piped, “This is fun!” as she caught another soldier in a flying tackle. “You just died!” she proudly announced. “You should be more careful,” she teased playfully—but froze. Her mane popped and fell gutted around her. The soldier did not move or protest, and Pinkie’s hooves and chest were wet with blood. She had met him a couple times, and coaxed a smile from him, but here he was: just another soldier shape lying across the brutal landscape. No tears came to her eyes as she stared blankly at him in disbelief. “Look up!” the riflecolt next to Applejack hollered. “They’re above us.” The major followed his gesture to the top level of a ruined edifice that she had thought to be inaccessible. Solar troops were firing down at them through several windows; the vantage point rendered the desperate Lunars dangerously exposed. The colt hunkered lower and shot back at their attackers, but the enemy could not have been better protected by castle battlements. Big Mac sprinted to cover next to his sister and verbosely declared, “We can’t stay here like this.” Applejack, tense and dripping with sweat, pointed out, “No, but we can’t run right now either. They’re massed up behind that wall, and the second we split they’ll be on our heels. If we survive they’ll chase us straight to Luna.” Dark winged shapes dropped into the spot she referenced, and waited like vultures. “A grenade up there would shut ‘em up though.” “No one could throw one that far,” the Lunar next to her stated. “I didn’t say throw it,” she dismissed, and insisted to her brother, “It’s just like kicking apples. I can do it.” He acknowledged and left. They endured a painful wait, pinned down and forced to listen to the screams of an injured comrade. He returned with grenades, and swapped them for her flashlight. “Ha, I’ll only need one,” Applejack touted, building her courage. The peril of her unit was motivation enough. Big Mac shined the flashlight into the air in front of them and Applejack stepped quickly into the open. “Oof!” Something slammed her face into the bricks that littered the ground. She squirmed and rolled to see what was on top of her. Pinkie Pie had knocked her back into cover. She clutched her friend tightly and dripped tears on her. “You not-died, AJ!” she sobbed. “Just like that, huh?” Applejack marveled, trying not to panic. She couldn’t break now; giving up would be no better than dying. “You have to let me go.” Pinkie Pie still would not let go. “You not-died. Promise me you won’t die,” she begged. Applejack shook her head and replied simply, “I have to do this.” Pinkie Pie released her grip, and Big Mac pulled her aside. He gave her the light and instructed firmly, “JUST THE GRENADE.” Applejack signaled that she was ready to give it another try. He raised the submachine gun he had captured and charged out ahead of her, spraying bullets toward the enemy. He could not really aim at a gallop, but he could leave a trail of muzzle flashes leading away from his sister. Applejack jumped back into the open facing away from her target. In a flash she executed an unlikely series of movements. She pulled the pin with her teeth and tossed the bomb over herself. She put her weight onto her front hooves, lifted her plot to the enemy, and watched for the grenade to come down. It lit up as it crossed Pinkie’s beam behind her, and just when it was between her and the target she nailed it with a powerful kick. It left their sight into the darkness. Shrapnel and smoke burst from the windows of the occupied level of the building, and the guns above were silenced. The determined country warriors were now free to take steady aim and show their superiority to the hastily-trained enemy masses. The Solars were forced to back down from their renewed assault and take their turn keeping low and staying alive. The Rough Riders could hold off the Imperial army for now. But Applejack worried how the rest of the battle was going—and even more, would it all matter? The first Lunar vessel, exhausted of its torpedoes, retreated back to the mountain as a second ship moved to take its place. The front line of the fighting below was confused by uneven resistance in the dark, crooked streets. Commanders struggled to keep apprised of their units. A lone pegasus flew through hostile skies, praying that he would not be discovered by the enemies below. Something screamed down at him, and he barely dodged a huge shape with tearing claws. “Damn eagle eyes!” he cursed. The griffin pursued closely behind him, and began to overtake its prey. The Lunar pegasus rolled in the air and flew zigzags, but continued forward. Unable to slow down, he careened into a painful landing in the midst of a crumbled structure. He tried to run from the deadly Imperial that landed behind him, but the thing had caught his tail. He cried out to surprised shapes that moved about them as the griffin pulled him backwards and reached for his neck to silence him. A big stallion stepped in to buck it away from its victim. The eagle-beast was thrown to the wall behind it. It bounced back in a rage and slashed its talons at Big Mac, dealing him a deep gash across the shoulder. Muzzle flashes lit the old masonry and the Solar sky-hunter fell dead. The pegasus messenger requested, “Where’s Major Applejack? Who’s in charge here?” “That’s me,” said the cowgirl. “You’re being cut off,” the messenger warned. “Damn.” Applejack nodded, and ordered, “Alright everypony, fall back. Quiet now, don’t let them know we’ve left.” The unit slipped out of their positions and headed out from behind enemy lines. They were gone before their opponents realized they were no longer pinned down.
DespairChapter 38 Celestia lay crumpled like a wet cloth on the hard stone of the ritual hall, with patches of her fur coat melted to her skin. While the battle began on the other side of the mountain, here Luna and Twilight contended with the puzzling failure of the ancient magic. Luna had sensed a great ethereal pressure, as if some tremendous power had ground to a halt as it pressed against an obstacle. She peered into the largest crystal, which still illuminated the chamber. Clearly there was real magic here, so what was wrong with it? Twilight calculated, “Was this made for regular ponies? Maybe Rarity isn’t enough to restore an alicorn. If it is like my magic, resistance from any of the minds involved could be an issue.” “Whatever it did, I did not resist,” Rarity avowed. The frustrated Princess probed the energy in the crystal by intruding some of her own magic into the translucent stone. The ether of her spell was knocked back to her instantly. It was familiar and pleasurable; she huffed at the irrelevant sensation. There was something about this energy that reminded her of the Elements of Harmony, but it was somehow different. There was none of the harshness that had cast her to the moon or broken her vengeful spirit. “This magic is not like yours,” she stated to Twilight. Luna slowly and thoughtfully walked around the glowing spike and probed it from different angles. Then she investigated the crystals of the other platform. She returned to the center and urgently contemplated all she knew, but could find no answers. Celestia’s investigations were of a different character. She shivered from the chill of the breeze on her naked, wet skin and of the despair that was seizing her. The events of the dusk times flashed before her. Through the pain, she desperately bent her mind to understanding her end. “When you live a life and make a journey, you’re supposed to end up with some meaning or shit like that, right? It seems like there isn’t any point to all this, but it’s all a part of a plan. A plan means a purpose. Obviously the idea isn’t for us to unite and forgive and attain our survival. There must be some point to letting us come this far, when I could have just died in the palace, some reason for prolonging our doom. We are still supposed to die, but I’m supposed to understand something first. If it was Celestia’s gig, it would be a cruel joke, but there’s been an awful lot of lead-up to let the punch line be a whisper in my head. That’s not how you tell a joke, you shout the punch line with maniacal laughter. It’s more like something else. It’s like letting someone down softly, finally confessing something you couldn’t bear to tell them up front.” She stopped; as Celestia considered the vast events and shadowy players, a sensation came over her like she was being watched, and not by ponies. She closed her eyes tightly and looked deeply into her own darkness. She consciously traveled deeper and deeper, through herself, and beyond, to something else, the something else. In that abyss she spoke, “Hey you. Yeah, you. The absolutely ancient, deathless, powerful presence I can’t find and can’t get away from. Are you going to say something?” The voice inside her was recklessly bold; her anger bubbled up through the reality of her total defeat. Now that she truly had nothing left to lose, there was no reason to contain her defiance. “You did this and it means something, but you haven’t even told me what it is! You made all this happen, you made all this, didn’t you? You won’t kill all that’s alive and thinking without an explanation—that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Now I understand, and you’re going to listen to me. I’M going to TELL you what you mean.” “Fluttershy was wrong about her pet. She said it should still live, even though its existence depends on devouring other animals—and she claims to care for them, too! ‘The jungle does what it wills.’ That isn’t what she should think, it’s what she needs to think. I say it’s cruel not to kill the Ripper. “You’re right, fuck it. Luna, Twilight, Rarity… They were wrong about me, they shouldn’t have brought me here. I do what I will, but they shouldn’t try to save me. I tried to take Rarity’s life to save my own—and they aren’t any different. They tried to bring me back—the biggest predator—to save themselves, and it was the noblest thing they could do. I tried to get away with murder, and they tried to get away with helping me. So you were right about them, too. And they are the best ones. “But there is something else besides normal life, something besides normal ponies. The something else is in Twilight and her friends, in Luna, and a little less in some ponies, like Derpy, and even Trixie somehow under her thick shell. It DOES have a name. So, yeah, Harmony. I get that you’re not gems or a feeling in ponies; you’re alive, surprise. “So yeah, I was a little wrong. There is something beautiful in all this that will go on when everyone’s dead. You are a beautiful thing, fuck you. The beauty that’s left doesn’t need to be observed to be fulfilled—maybe that was the idea, but it doesn’t work. What it needs is to be preserved. It has to be protected or it will be corrupted by beings like us. Boil down the life forms, mix them up, then make it walk and talk, and what is it? Wouldn’t it look something like a draconequus? Discord must be the purest sample. So this time you’re right, Harmony. Why would you let all this discord go on? “I get it. This is you admitting to me that you fucked up. Equestria, life, was a nice idea, but this is how it turns out. Your little experiment failed. You made me, so you obviously fucked up. You really care, that’s what you are, but you have to end us. You couldn’t even kill us straight up, so now you’ve unplugged us and walked away. I’m sorry, but you are too, aren’t you? But you’re right, damn it.” Spent on words, Celestia brought herself back to reality, whatever that is. She raised her head to use her magic for the last time. Though she was wet and cold on the outside, she knew there was still that fire that had been given to her as her personal executioner. Fire spells were simple to her; it would be easy to finish the task. As she prepared herself, she ranted in frustration, “I agree, so why do I still feel so wrong? I agree, so let me feel right, damn it.” Light began to well up from her puny horn, and then… “Ahem.” It wasn’t just any “ahem,” more like “aaAA-humm,” with equine vanity dripping from the ah and a sultry grind on the m. Celestia blinked at the ridiculously inappropriate tone, and looked up to see—of course—Trixie Trotter.
InterruptedChapter 39 “Ahem.” Trixie was propped up on a stone chest that had sat unnoticed throughout the events of the dead morning. After refreshing herself with cider and watching all the drama, she announced, “If you’re all done, Trixie has found something important.” The others turned as the brash blue unicorn levitated something out of the chest and into her hat. She stood up to take her stage stance, holding her hat out tantalizingly with a crooked smile. “For clopping out loud!” let out Rainbow Dash, “just tell us what it is.” Trixie peeked into her hat, started to speak, then peeked back into her hat. There was a flash and a puff of smoke, and it appeared in her other hoof. “Trixie does not know,” she conceded, “but Trixie has found it and she is sure it is important.” She held a single page from an old manuscript. Twilight gasped, snatched it away from the surprised Trixie, and showed it to Celestia. “I see white,” Twilight said in a hushed tone. She hoofed it to Celestia, who answered, “Black…” “I can’t read anything though, do you see anything?” Twilight inquired further. Celestia did not answer but trembled as her eyes moved across the page. The book was here? Instead of silence, she had received an answer. She knew what she had to do. She buried her vision into the cracks of the ancient manuscript. The blackness of the page emanated out across its edges, covering the sights of the chamber and melding with the charred hide of her forelegs. It blotted out the others and closed in around her. Her world grew strangely flat as it melded with her from all sides and closed the gaps between her features. All dimensions were lost into blindness. All was still and formless, a total black emptiness. Something white appeared; it was not a portal, but a fullness that soon replaced the dark. She felt a sharp prick on her skin that oozed a cold liquid. Something outside the plane of her existence seemed to intersect it and score her body with its tip. After it continued its work for a few moments, scraping on her and in her, she realized that the only parts of herself she could be sure existed were those the thing had touched. She felt it move over her whole frame, marking out the boundaries of Celestia, but still she could see nothing. Her eyelids came back into being and she stretched them wide in fear as the thing impacted her empty pupil and remained, oozing blackness. As the darkness spread it gave her sight to see a plumed shaft rising from the middle of her view. The thing was a quill pen made with a huge scarlet feather. It moved out into space and came back down to fill in her other eye. The pen completed its work, an alicorn of purest white, a beautiful Princess. She looked out at an esoteric scene from where she lay on the page. Grasping back to reality, she turned away. She saw herself, standing in the crystal cave with Luna and Twilight. She was holding herself at the edges. Secure that she was still there, the disembodied Princess returned to the world of the artist. The pen levitated through the air on unicorn magic. It was daylight there; water, air, and creatures stood unstirring. A row of pegasi stood grim and at attention along the edges of a causeway in the middle of a lake. The road was outlined with silver; within these polished bounds water was somehow trapped and solid. The glasslike causeway led on top of the lake and then up off the surface far into the air and towards the mountain, where it led into the cliff opening of the crystal cave. In the middle of her view stood the author. His pen, inkwell and paper-bound Princess hovered where he had levitated them. He was a mighty alicorn with a rich golden coat and a flowing white mane. The quill of the pen could only have come from the vein of red feathers in his wing. He gazed at her intently; she apprehensively diverted her eyes from his. How could he exist? According to the ancient unicorn sages, he didn’t. Where could he have come from? The radiance of his magic around her alarmed her like the power that had undone her, but as much as she feared him she was drawn to him. She scarcely allowed herself another glance at him. Instead, she studied everything around him, soaking as much as she could of the powerful stranger with her peripheral vision. Celestia watched the waves under his hooves and observed the pegasi behind him. She looked at those blocked by his flank and tail, and those near his chest; but even that was too close to his face. Above his towering form, stars shone clearly through the daylight in a pattern of spiraled arms. Satisfied, he waved his horn, offering his utensils to someone behind Celestia. She moved backwards until she was also collected by a great clawed paw. Looking almost sideways off the manuscript, she saw the face of an enormous manticore. The fur of its face was a verdant green that offered a startling contrast to its crimson mane. Its ferocious and wild countenance was tempered by the wisdom of a long flowing beard and discerning eyes. The intelligent beast put the pen and inkwell into a small box that he carried, but continued to hold the portrait towards its source. Her fear at being in the custody of a cunning predator grew when she realized that her artist was entrapped in heavy iron shackles that bound his limbs tightly together and held his wings fast against his back. However, he began to drag the chains down the prismatic road deliberately and at no signal from a captor. The manticore followed on his right hoof, trailing respectfully a few paces behind. They traveled slowly and solemnly, hooves and paws thudding on the snared water. The chains clinked and clattered with each restricted step. As they walked up the ramp, the drawing of Celestia was lost in contemplation. Why was he in chains? She thought it had to be a willing sacrifice. The thought of someone being forced onto that platform was as unbearable as what she had tried to do. Yet if it was against his will, why had he brought her here? They stopped, standing on the waterway, which hung in the air beside the cliff. The rows of pegasi, each wearing a strange emblem, hovered up and backed away to each side with gentle wingbeats. The manticore also retreated by a few backward strides. With a burst of magic, the alicorn burst free of his chains. The shackles ripped apart and the heavy links of chain snapped, sending out a small shower of iron. The fetters were either launched to the side, or landing on the causeway, clattered as they slid off and out of sight. The magician stood tall and powerful, reaching above the manticore and filling the scene with his unfurled wings. The pegasi bowed in their suspended flight. Celestia was shown the ground as her carrier bowed and knelt. As it bowed, she thought she could see fear in even this toothy and intimidating face. “What is going on? Is the writer going to escape?” she wondered, even hoped, despite what she knew was true. The beast stood back up and approached the magician once again, this time holding out a golden chest. The author took off ornaments of gold, silver, and solid crystal and placed them carefully into the chest. Lastly he relinquished a dazzling crown of green and blue crystals, greater than that which Celestia once bore with haughty pride. When each was placed in the chest, the manticore closed it and locked it securely with a key. The key had an ornate handle with markings of the sun and moon and a ring around it studded with small devices of the celestial bodies together—eclipses. It was only a glimpse and she could not count the eclipses. With the formalities now completed, the alicorn strode into the enchanted cave and mounted the receiving platform, sitting inside its circle of hungry crystalline teeth. All of the gemstone was clear, glasslike, and empty. He beckoned, and she was brought to him. She moved her dimensionless body to place her hoof up against the surface of the manuscript towards him. He extended a powerful gold hoof and pressed it gently against hers. Across all logical boundaries, she felt the warmth of his touch. She still could not look him in the eye, but sensed him looking deeply into hers. He was not here by fear or despair; nor by coercion, nor by a lofty, detached duty to save the world. He was here for her. Distance through ages, the shroud of death, and strange dimensions melted before that simple truth. She was torn away from the exchange by the manticore, who took her to the edge of the cavern a safe distance from the transferring platforms. The water of the causeway was suddenly released and fell out of sight or splattered on the cliff. Its silver borders wound and folded on themselves and soon were gone as well. He turned from her and faced the sun as it moved into place in front of the cave. The pegasi outside took wing and swirled around the sun. Air and light bent into a tremendous vortex that flooded the chamber with a rush. Celestia feared that she would be ripped apart as the paper thrashed wildly in the wind, but the manticore insistently held her out towards a beautiful and horrifying sight. The author burned violently. Great ribbons of fire arced off his skin and into the surrounding crystals. The great being collapsed in agony as the crystals filled with radiant energy. As the crystals around him and those in the ceiling glowed inside so brightly they could not be distinguished from the sun, the author disappeared completely. She was hastily shoved into the chest, and darkness closed over her. She closed her eyes and held her breath as layers of dust fell one after the other upon her. She absorbed huge drops of water that fell on her and crinkled her. And there she was, crying on herself, standing in the same place but a different time, staring longingly into a piece of old parchment. She stepped back in disbelief. She stared, first at the empty sacrificial platform, then at the light in the crystal spike. It wasn’t trapped sunlight or some impersonal magic ether: it was his life. He died instead of her, he died as her. He knew all about her and what she had done, but he gave everything for her. Why? Living in the past, he certainly did not need her to light his world. How did he even know she’d accept it? It was against the way she’d always lived. She’d tried to control and make things happen herself. The whole time, even when other ponies were more powerful than her and told her what to do, she thought she was in control. By playing her cards right and relying on the fact that everypony needed her, she was in control and she would save herself. She already knew her plan had failed—but to accept this she would have to submit to his plan. She had always had a deep fear of being truly under someone else’s power. After Discord, she vowed she would never let it happen again. This was the author’s move. To take his gift, she would have to embrace that he had been in control the whole time, even though he was dead, and that he was still in control of her. He was not letting her down gently—it was an other-worldly proposal. To take his life would link them in a way that she did not understand—but she did understand that it could not be undone. How was she supposed to respond? She was ready to be healed and raise the sun, but she wasn’t prepared for something so personal. “It doesn’t make any sense! Why would anyone do this for me? Why would he draw me as a beautiful Princess when I’ve always been this—a sick, twisted piece of shit who’s only been hurt and hurt others?” She had just convinced herself to end it all, and now he wanted to give her life. “Why? I’m not worth it!” But could she really say now, “You were wrong?” She realized it would be the worst crime she had ever committed to insult this gift and turn it down. It came down to whether she would trust him and his intentions, his knowledge, and his love. It was far more comfortable to trust herself. The truth was, he was saving her from herself, again. “I agree,” she said aloud. “I…” she searched for the proper expression, “I do.” Luna demanded, “What has happened, Celestia?” “Now Trixie wants to know,” the show pony chimed in. Many bewildered eyes were on Celestia once again, but she seemed unable to speak. Twilight stepped forward to say, “I think somepony already sacrificed their life.” “Oh,” said Rarity, “You mean it wasn’t me? If it wasn’t me, who was it?” Her bowed head dripping with tears, Celestia pushed the paper—now white to her eyes—back towards Trixie. “Thank you, Trixie. You don’t know what that means to me.” She sobbed, “Please keep it safe.” Trixie took it and stashed in back in the chest. She put her hat back on and stood importantly over it. Celestia tried to raise herself to all fours, but fell back down. “Put me back on the platform,” she insisted weakly. “Who will join you?” Luna questioned. “He’s already there,” the shriveled alicorn informed. “That’s why it didn’t work before.” She had misunderstood the book. In her ignorance she had tried to lie, cheat, and steal that which was offered freely as a gift. Her sister objected, “But you’ll die!” “I’ll die if I don’t, won’t I?” Celestia answered. With the ease of thought, the Princess lifted the limp little body onto the blackened stone slab. Luna closed her eyes and breathed deeply. When she opened them again, they shone blue. Twilight, Trixie, and the magicians outside felt the subliminal signal to send out their energy again. The moon Princess’s horn glowed brightly, and she reached out once more. This time she strained harder, but the churning world of fire came back up over the mountains and the lake. The harsh light poured in again and the searing radiation penetrated Celestia’s singed coat, threatening to finally roast her flesh. The “bringer of light” closed her eyes to shut it out as the crystal above grew brighter and brighter, until it was indistinguishable from the sun. A beam of white fire shot out from its tip and she cried out as it struck her and engulfed her. As she disappeared in the light, Celestia gave herself over to it, and felt herself die. She burned up entirely. She opened her eyes. Celestia took in the feeling and the reality of her impossible state. She was still there. She was in the fire, and the fire was in her. The heat was not painful but passionate and exhilarating. For a moment she felt disembodied and formless, lost in an element of bliss. The flames rippled and smoothed into a plasma that coursed over her skin, under her skin: it was her skin. The scar in her chest tore away from her and exploded into nothing. She felt weightless as she rose up on her hind legs and stretched out her wings. Her new horn just met the point of the crystal as the last of the immortal energy poured into her. The pure white alicorn jumped off the platform and flew exuberant laps around the ceiling of the chamber. She came down at the mouth of the cave overlooking the water below and hopped youthfully through the sun’s warm rays, scarce casting a shadow. Her great body cooled and calmed. She stood and smiled innocently, letting the unfettered locks of her green, blue, and pink mane flow in all directions. She could have been content to remain there forever, but she remembered the world once again and turned to those who had remained with her. Twilight had completely lost focus on her magic and her horn no longer glowed. “Dus--uh,” she stuttered, “—Celestia!” She bowed, and Rainbow Dash followed her example. Fluttershy’s big moon eyes peeked around Rarity. Luna still filled the back of the chamber. While she was also moved by all that had happened, she was spending all her strength to keep the sun from plummeting back out of sight. Trixie stood in the corner perspiring profusely as she struggled to keep up her part of the massive task. Luna’s gaze stayed fixed on the mismatched heavenly body, but her mind was on her sister. Celestia glanced at the image of the sun on her flank and back to her sister. She closed her eyes, and with a shining horn she bid it to remain aloft, and to slowly rise. The moon Princess let go of the burning light and watched it until she was satisfied that it would not fall. “What are you doing?!” Trixie protested, “The great and powerful Trixie can’t hold up the sun all by herself!” She strained and howled before collapsing on the floor. The dawn persisted without her. Celestia’s own happiness was dampened as she realized that Luna might not be happy to see her again. She waited eagerly for some sign of feeling from her sister, but received none. The Premier of the Republic stated coldly, “I have nothing to say to you while my soldiers are dying.” “The war!” Celestia exclaimed, “It’s over!” She galloped past Luna and through the chiseled corridor to the other side of the mountain. Luna, Twilight, and Rainbow Dash chased after her. The white alicorn burst from the entrance and leapt into the daylight sky. After a moment of shock, the soldiers that protected the approach raised their weapons against their arch enemy. “Don’t shoot!” boomed the Lunar leader, her voice echoing out of the mouth of the cavern. She watched as Celestia swooped heedlessly over the battle lines before pulling up to meet the Imperial Sovereignty. The NLR troops wavered, fearing her appearance as an ill sign. The Solar army cheered at her return. With the war’s nominal objective suddenly accomplished, they hesitated and took cover to wait for new orders.
Broken MirrorsChapter 40 Princess Celestia landed on the deck of her military’s flagship. Shocked crew abandoned their duties and snapped to attention. The ship sensed her presence and automatically hailed her with an ostentatious fanfare. She strode energetically to the nearest hatch, which flung open before her, and took the stairs down. One would not have known from its overwrought appearance, but the decorated passage descended between the envelopes of volatile gasses. She entered the main hull, and followed the familiar halls toward the command deck, ignoring the honors of the officers she encountered. At last she reached the bridge. Thick, reinforced glass allowed a panoramic view out the front of the ship. Behind this, command surfaces bristled with buttons, dials, and radio receivers. Further back was an open space for high-ranking officers to confer and make decisions. The great white ruler came in by the door in the back of the room. To her surprise, it was empty, save for a single unicorn. General Armor waited with his back to her. “General, order all of our forces to hold fire and cease their advance,” she ordered as she approached him. Hydraulics hissed as metal bars shot up through the floor, tearing holes in the ornamental mahogany and impacting the ceiling with a sharp clang. The powerful alicorn moved to defend herself with her magic before they could close in around her, but her horn flashed violently and blinded her. She felt drained and oppressed. The bluish bars hummed eerily and ribbons of her own energy swam about the charged cylinders. It was a disenchanting prism, and it was not in the original design of the ship. “I can serve you better than that,” the General contended. “I won this victory over the heretics, and no one’s going to take away my revenge.” He broadcast on the master frequency, “Attack, and show no mercy. Celestia is with us. Kill her enemies, and cleanse this land!” “I’ve crushed Nightmare Moon’s rebellion,” he boasted. Stepping close to his trap, he recalled, “That is all you wanted.” He leaned his horn into the boundary of the prism and caught a wandering ray of his sovereign’s energy. “Almost all you wanted,” he insinuated. “Now I am here, and you have won. I don’t want any more of this war,” she asserted. “Not after those nightsiders have made you what they wanted,” he countered. “They tried to take everything from me.” Celestia breathed deeply, and confessed, “They did nothing for you to avenge. I—I killed your mother, not them. Every awful thing that happened to you was me, not them. I’m sorry. Please let them live, and I’ll be yours, whatever you want to do with me.” A strange thought crossed her mind, that she might not really be available to offer herself, but she did not voice it. She only said, “I’m sorry for everything.” “That was you?!” General blurted. His eyes darted back and forth inside their golden sockets as he processed the new information and connected his scattered thoughts. After a pause, he said, “Thank you.” He could see in her surprise that Celestia did not understand what he meant. He elaborated cynically, “The worst thing that could happen to me is to be mollycoddled, or homesick, or do something stupid like find true love. You set me free, you gave me a chance to take my destiny.” “You should never have had to endure all the pain and spite I forced on you. You don’t have to be what I turned you into.” She looked with compassion on the pierced and wounded colt trapped in his prison of armor. “You don’t want to be like me—I don’t want to be like that anymore,” she disagreed ruefully. She pleaded with him insistently, and even smiled, “I found a hope for us. You can change. You can undo what I did to you.” “Why?” he responded with disdain. “You made me better—then I made me a god, by my will. I’ll punish the heretics, even if that includes you. What happened to you? I wanted to finally tame you, but you disappoint me again. You’ve already been tamed! I must have stolen your indomitable spirit. Perhaps you passed more of yourself to me than you wished. The strong will die before they submit. Now I am the strongest, but you are weak!” “Would you submit to love?” she implored. “Love is a joke, you taught me that,” he shot back. She shook her head. “I was wrong. I was drowning in my own will, but then I gave myself over to love.” “You know how you used to manipulate me—with power, not this simpering drivel,” he sneered. “Then stop the fighting because you need me to raise the sun,” she tried to correct. “I can make you do anything,” he scoffed. “I’ll find the real Celestia in you, or you’re dead to me.” The Lunar army had finally been driven from the city; forced up the side of the triple mountain, they had taken what little shelter was offered by the scattered pines and boulders to make a last stand protecting their leader’s magical endeavor. The third Lunar ship had made its defensive circuit, and returned heavily damaged. The fourth was just turning back as Celestia suddenly appeared with the day. In the fresh light and turn of events, the Solar troops balked at the edge of the rubble. The battle paused with confusion at the sight of the Solar Empress emerging from the Lunar lines. Tentative hope was held out that the bloodshed was finished. Just as suddenly as it stopped, the fighting resumed as the Imperial forces pushed forward once again. The remnants of the NLRA no longer had anything to guard, and would have escaped sideways along the mountainside, but the enemy tanks had driven around the city and moved to cut them off. The fourth Lunar vessel presented a conspicuous target in the morning sun. It soon took hits and fell onto the slope. The crew managed to vent the gases and prevent it from becoming a deadly fireball, but it was little consolation; the armada continued to viciously pound the hulk. The Rough Riders had mixed with other units in front of the cave’s gate. The enemy infantry tested their new line, but did not make a full assault across the exposed ground, matching their foes in seeking out what cover the landscape had to offer. They would hold the Lunars in a protracted shootout until the tanks arrived. The country crack-shots got the better of the exchange in the brief window before their inevitable destruction. The Imperials managed to set up a machine gun in the rocks opposite the Apples’ position and threatened to keep them helplessly pinned down as armor approached. Applejack waited and listened in her crater-foxhole. She watched the approaching tank with building fear—would it arrive before she could do as she planned? The machine gun fell silent while the Solars fed in a new belt of ammo. “Now!” she barked, and sprinted with Big Mac across open ground. They reached the shelter of a large boulder just as the enemy fire resumed. The Apples unslung their weapons and Applejack leaned her rifle on the top of the rock. She looked back to make eye contact with Pinkie Pie, who peeked apprehensively out the side of the barricade. A mechanical rumble grew louder and brought the clack of tread. To her brother’s surprise, the major threw down her prized hat. Pinkie understood, and with a shout she jumped up in the air, throwing out confetti. The machine gun turned its wrath to her position as Applejack came above her cover to take steady aim. She released her breath and pulled the trigger. The gunner below fell back from his weapon. Big Mac got up and shouldered the rocket launcher. His wound made him wince, and his usually steady hoof shook. The tank drove up past the boulder and started the ignition on its flamethrower. At the last moment, the missile burst into flight briefly and exploded against the vehicle. The tank sputtered and went silent. The crew scrambled out of the smoke filled interior, and Big Mac laid aside the launcher in favor of the Solar submachine gun he had taken. As Applejack watched the tank commander struggling to lift the injured driver out of the death trap, she could only think of Rainbow Dash. She put out a hoof to stop her brother, saying, “Not this time.” Then they ducked back down as another enemy took hold of the deadly gun below them. Luna, Twilight and Rainbow Dash were surprised to find the fight so near to them, but joined the stand in front of the mountain’s gate. Luna was too conspicuous a target, and was compelled to shelter behind her wrecked vessel. She was tired from holding the sun, but could still contribute to the defense with her magic. For a moment she quickly appeared around the prow and rolled a threatening tank backwards down the mountainside. After that, however, she drew so much fire that she was unable to show herself again. She had done as she ought, but now, it seemed, all was lost. She began to consider whether she could lead the enemy to pursue her away from her loyal troops. The Imperial fleet moved forward and prepared to carpet bomb the trapped troops. The weakened Lunar ships charged out boldly with the thought that their Princess might somehow escape, but such a maneuver would be short lived. Captain Dash and Twilight hunkered behind a low rise, still identifying with the Solar soldiers and unsure how to act. As the attack intensified, Twilight began helping the few NLR unicorns stop the bullets that rained down on their position so that fewer ponies would die before the battle ended. To her dismay, the Rough Riders around her took advantage of the shelter she provided to take steady and confident aim against their attackers. Twilight yelled out to no one, “Why doesn’t it stop?!” After a moment holding her ground in the face of the continuing madness, a blue streak impacted the ground beside her. Rainbow Dash flew out from her hiding place and pulled her friend down into cover before the sniper could zero in with a second magic round. Twilight raised her voice over the din of battle, “Something’s wrong! It should have stopped by now!” “Yeah,” Rainbow agreed, “What’s taking Celestia so long? Won’t Shining Armor listen to her?” “I don’t know, but he’s my brother, and I should be up there,” Twilight said with gathering resolve. “This obviously isn’t our battlefield. Go, I’ll be right behind you!” Dash launched up vertically out of the chaos towards the Imperial Sovereignty. After lining up on the moving target, Twilight exerted herself to teleport across the wide gap into the command deck. Rainbow Dash arrived on the deck just after Twilight reached the ship. A machine gunner covering the top of the vessel trained the weapon on her but held off the trigger at the sight of Dash’s solar insignia. The gunner turned back and fired a volley at the Lunar pegasi who dodged about, escorting the last of the torpedoes. Dash ran over to him and shouted, “Stop shooting, idiot!” before bucking him away across the deck. Before anyone on deck could react, she had disappeared down a hatch into the interior of the vessel. Twilight saw an unfamiliar room materialize around her and—Celestia, somehow imprisoned! She took a step toward her Princess before a purple light caught her from the side. The General slammed her into the wall with an intense burst of levitating magic. She fell to the floor and was unable to rise. “I knew you’d come back, sis!” he growled. “Why did you have to ruin her for me?” he motioned to his disavowed ruler. “I’ll find a way to fix her, but I guess if I’m going to get you back I’m going to have to kill all your Lunar friends.” He extended a blade from his leg guard and put it against her neck. “Say uncle, sis. I would have had a special place in my empire for you. Now look what you’ve done. I don’t want to have to kill my little sister, but if you’re a traitor you’re not family.” Rainbow Dash burst into the room. “What are you doing to Twilight?!” Dash exclaimed. Her temper flared up and her protective instinct kicked in; she drew Applejack’s pistol and picked up speed. Rainbow Dash galloped straight for the General, firing shot after shot. The golden General braced himself and took every hit unflinching. The bullets ricocheted off his formidable armor. “She’s mine, not yours!” he declared. He lowered his horn and pulled Dash through the air. Combined with her momentum, the pull sent her towards the cruel spike at blinding speed. Captain Dash drew on her martial arts training she had received as an elite Solar Pathfinder. She twisted through the air and brought a flying karate kick down on the villain’s head. She had never delivered a kick this fast on something this hard. General Armor fell sideways and Dash bounced to the front of the room. She winced at the searing pain in her hind leg. The general growled and squinted through his blood. The metal warrior regained his hooves and hurled a violent wave of magic energy at her. Dash pulled herself behind a control panel as the floor behind her tore open and a pane of the command deck’s window blew out. Dash peeked around the other side of the console to assess the situation, shooting a glance from the fallen Twilight to the trapped Princess. “You should be the last to betray me, Loyalty!” he fumed. She ducked back as another blast ripped by. She flew up and towards the General, who swiped at her with a heavy hoof. She rolled around him in mid-flight and reached out for the button in front of the disenchanting prism. A second blow caught her in the chest and sent her smashing back to the deck, but she had met her objective. The flashing ribbons of blue light evaporated and the bars pulled back into the floor. The General now stood facing an indignant Celestia. As she lit her horn, he levitated an “Even Justice” to himself from a hidden compartment. It snapped into his hooves and he seized on the trigger in an instant. A pink flash mixed with the fire from the muzzle of the rifle; Twilight stood firm where she had appeared and stared him down until her eyes rolled back. She tumbled to the ground and rejoined the streak of blood that stained the deck behind her. “Twily, I—“ the General stammered, holding the smoking gun to the side in a moment of disbelief. Suddenly he glared up at Celestia and shouted, “You did this!” He chambered another dragon bullet, but not fast enough. Celestia quickly cast a simple spell on him. Small objects fell to the floor—bloody nails—and he also dropped the gun involuntarily as the muscles in his leg spasmed. The armor plating fell from his front leg and shoulder. “No—no!” he stammered as he understood. The reborn Princess stepped toward him and gently unraveled him with her magic. More nails and cruel hooks lifted out from his skin and screws turned backwards. The massive metal scales slid off of him and clanged to the floor; he collapsed as he was exposed. The blade of his horn was set in the bone. He was in agony as she heated it to that she could safely pull it out. She stood over Twilight and looked down at him. “Shining Armor, I release you. The part of me that I put in you by force, I’m taking back.” She leaned over and touched her horn to his, inducing it to glow. They endured an awful, intimate sharing of minds and magic. The light that welled up from him disappeared into her horn as she called to everything in him that belonged to her. At last, within the light, streaks of darkness emerged, and Celestia shuddered as she repossessed them. She disengaged, leaving him almost lifeless, though she knew he would survive. “I won’t let you die because of me,” she told him, and looked down at Twilight with tears. “And you can’t either!” She picked up her faithful student and exerted all of her magic energy to keep the waning life in her hooves from fading. Reaching into the body with her feelings, she kept blood from leaving the veins, made the heart keep beating, and pumped the lungs. Still concentrating on her fragile armful she opened her wings and flew out into the war-torn sky. Dash picked herself back up and watched her stricken superiors depart. Regaining herself from waves of sadness, she pounced on the radio and broadcast, “By orders of Princess Celestia, all batteries hold fire! Stop shooting! Close the bomb bay doors and hold position!” Celestia’s majestic presence swooped in between the battle lines and implored the Solar troops to desist. She darted from tanks to charging soldiers, still cradling the purple unicorn and wailing, “Stop dying! Stop dying!” Her booming voice carried her eerie and mournful cry all around the mountainside. The gunshots dropped off, battle cries and orders died to a hush, and engines shifted to neutral. Both sides stood in shock as Luna stepped into the open to meet her distraught sister. Luna brought them down to where the NLR medics took shelter from the soldiers that had been overrunning them. The fighters on both sides held their weapons uncertainly as their leaders disappeared together without explanation. Luna emerged shortly to mount the blasted wreck and announce above the stilled carnage, “The war is over! Tend to the wounded! Drop your guns and tend to the wounded!”
Fault in the MendChapter 41 As scheduled, it was a clear day in Canterlot. The only clouds to be seen were sky homes that had been relocated to the clean air on the north side of the mountain. The Imperial Palace gleamed in the sun. The Solar standards flowing from its spires were joined by one which showed the moon instead. A great throng was gathered in the wide mall by the gate. Guards watched over the murmuring crowd which waited with excitement and concern. The eminent speakers were to appear any moment and give their address. It would be uncharacteristic of Premier Luna to be late for such an event, and to prevent this she finally intruded into the resident ruler’s private quarters. She found Princess Celestia staring doubtfully into the mirror, still devoid of the vestments of her authority. “Are you prepared?” Luna asked. “Almost,” Celestia answered hesitantly, but remained motionless. The other alicorn matched her stillness and stood expectantly. Their manes flowed naturally by their own energy. Celestia glanced at her sister’s insistent eyes in the mirror. She acquiesced, and turned from her self-examination. She approached the pedestal which held the golden crown of her realm. She moved as if she would pick it up, but stopped. She pushed it back and looked away. Luna observed her carefully. She tilted her own crowned head and said, “You act as though it will bite you. Unless you had it enchanted…” she waited for Celestia to shake her head. “Then what can it do? It will not turn you into a monster just to put it on.” “Won’t it though?” Celestia returned apprehensively. “You would not appear again as Nightmare Moon.” “That is different,” the other royal claimed. “She was a terror to all. But half of our world reveres and loves Empress Celestia, so we need her now.” “You don’t mean that! I’m different now,” Celestia disavowed her old self. “She’s no good for anyone. I could never bear to be her again. We need her to be gone forever.” “Of course,” Luna acknowledged understandingly. Still she urged, “Come, take up your crown. When I returned, I realized I must wear my burden and be the one to care for our citizens before myself. After all you have done, Princess, it is your responsibility to repair all that you can.” Celestia took a deep breath. Her necklace laid itself on her shoulders and the crown of the Solar Empire rested against her horn. She stepped into her greaves—one, two, three, four—and it was finished. It was so easy and so familiar. She was relieved; her inner transformation was far more real than any ill effects of the golden ornaments. They were simply tools that would help her accomplish what was right. The true bite came when she saw the fear in Luna’s eyes. The moon Princess tried to shake herself of the irrational reaction, but it was inevitable as she beheld the completed picture of her dreaded enemy. For so long, every time they had seen each other was horrible. Celestia bowed away, taking a low and unintimidating stance. Luna rebuked herself and softened her unwelcoming gaze; it was only what she had asked for. Celestia asked, “Do you forgive me?” “It seems you have been forgiven, and I am learning to accept that. What you have done cannot be undone, but Harmony will allow me to hold no hatred for you,” Luna said coolly. “If that were not so I would not have agreed to this alliance, but I know we are doing the right thing for Equestria.” “Is that all you’re here for?” the jeweled white alicorn prodded almost wistfully. “The good of Equestria?” It was close to the truth, but the republican Princess tactfully returned, “What do you wish that I had come for?” “Luna, you’ve called me everything but ‘sister’.” Celestia finally asked, “Do you care about me? Do you want me?” Luna answered thoughtfully but frankly, “I have always wanted a big sister. I felt safe when you were near—but that was a very long time ago. That trust was betrayed, and I have grown. I do not desire your protection.” She continued more hopefully, though in an almost mournful tone, “I do desire a sister who would be the kind of friend who would understand me and stay with me. We go on so long and lose so many. I wish I could trust you to be that sister, but this is hard and will only come in time.” “I know I don’t deserve it. It wasn’t anything I did to be better. Please, do you forgive me?” Celestia begged. “Yes,” Luna said. “I did not deserve to be fixed either. I forgive you, Celestia my sister.” Tears welled up in Celestia’s eyes and her feelings pulled her forward. She looked up into her little sister’s face as she approached her with the affection she had restrained. As she loomed towards Luna, the smaller Princess tensed apprehensively, but held her ground and prepared to endure the embrace like a good soldier. Celestia shied away disappointed; she would not force herself on poor Luna. Her tears continued as she declined the emotional release. “Thank you,” she genuinely expressed. She had no right to expect more than she had received. There was still no one to whom she could show her new love without hurting them. She walked to the door of the chamber and stared into space, trying to collect herself to make her public appearance. She took deep breaths recalled the speech she had prepared, only to ward off other thoughts. Something brushed up against her side. To her surprise, it was Luna, standing next to her and leaning against her gently. The royal blue alicorn looked up at her and reasoned, “It would take us a great deal of time to become close if we never started.” They shared a long, nervously tender gaze. Celestia made no move for fear of pressing too far; instead she gratefully absorbed the wild outburst of affection that was offered. They allowed their hearts to lighten as they enjoyed the first peace of the day. “Now may our country heal with us,” Luna signaled, and they left together. A great fanfare sounded in the square and the citizens fell silent. The two rulers appeared on the broad balcony of a low tower by the gate. “All hail Celestia, Empress of the Rising Sun, and Luna, Premier of the New Lunar Republic,” a herald proclaimed. All in the crowd performed a gesture of fealty before bowing, as was custom, though some were slower than usual. They had only been reintroduced to Luna in the past couple of months. The Imperial propaganda machine ran itself, and it was only with great difficulty that the stubborn media was persuaded to turn the moon Princess a favorable eye. Celestia determined to speak her own heart, and at her direction the usual teleprompters were gone. She waved to those gathered below, and her subjects rose. “Greetings, we have been blessed with another day,” she began. “Peace be with you. Nightmare Moon is gone; all that remains is my sister Luna,” she said, turning momentarily to add tenderly to the one beside her, “who I love.” Again in a loud voice she reassured the populace, “It was she who helped restore me to you, so the night is truly no longer to be feared.” “I thank all who have fought for me and for you. Those who died on either side did as they knew best to save our world. Let us strive to honor their sacrifice by uniting this broken land and reconciling with our fellow ponies so that Equestria will not again be torn by magical or military turmoil. To this end, what has been split in recent years will be one again, so that “Lunar Republic” and “Solar Empire” will not be heard, but only “Equestria”. We will grow not by force but by friendship.” “How can we be friends with those who defy you!” an upstanding unicorn called out, and those near him assented. A pegasus guard flew over their heads and held his traditional lance threateningly over the interrupting pony. It was only an empty threat by recent decree. The unicorn seemed to offer himself up to the arcane weapon in a glad acceptance of his fate. In the past, such an offense could be punished with immediate death—but the correct form of flattery could also earn rewards. Without thinking, Celestia responded genuinely, “As Luna has forgiven me.” The whole crowd took a breath in shock before they began to murmur. “…and I have forgiven her,” she quickly “corrected”, feigning the same sincerity. She offered a silent apology to Luna, who only partially contained her irritation. She held out a hoof to silence the crowd, and firmly continued, “In a year’s time, I and Princess Luna will preside together over the Republic of Equestria so that we will together remain strong and sensitive to the common good.” The sun worshipers reacted with horror to the displacement of their goddess from her exclusive pedestal. As the previous outburst had gone unpunished, they brazenly shouted, “No! Celestia is all! The good of Celestia is the good of all!” Many gave a gesture that was new among the more spiritual which offered their souls to their beautiful deity. “Cease this!” she ordered, but her voice was more regretful than commanding. “Don’t do that. I’m sorry I deceived you that way,” she almost pleaded. “Harmony is worth your praise.” She had already disavowed herself in her cathedral, but it was as if they did not hear her. “Nightmare Moon forces her hoof! Rise for your goddess!” incited an instigator as the throng turned to an uproar. “SILENCE!” Princess Celestia burst out in a voice that shook the mall. For a moment the sun doubled its intensity as it glared down angrily upon the crowd. Searing light poured down from the sky and out of her eyes. A heat wave swept over them. “DO NOT CONTRADICT ME!” the voice threatened. At the sunflash, the multitude reeled back in shock and strong discomfort. Startled fear quickly shifted to grim resolve on Luna’s face, and she tensed as if she might defend herself. The light in Celestia’s eyes faded and she glanced nervously about. She backed up a few steps, retreating from her own show of force. Awestruck citizens bowed in repentance and paid homage to their deity. She was ashamed of their misplaced worship and her crown seemed painfully heavy. But there was no one else to stop them; certainly Luna could not. Celestia forced herself to repossess her heavenly authority for just a little longer as she almost desperately motioned for them to stop. Just as they had managed to still the crowd a shot was fired from the audience. Celestia stood motionless in the path of the bullet. Luna had sensed something and reacted quickly to block the round, which proved doable. It was no special assassin’s weapon, just an average gun. Its plain-looking owner held his gun boldly above the crowd and fired another shot. The moon Princess defended her ally again. Security rushed to take down the assailant, but before they could the crowd of fanatics had turned on him and swallowed him up in a beating, stomping mass. Only now did Celestia react; she flew out towards the spot where her attacker fell and boomed, “No!” over the riotous ponies. They dispersed as she dropped to the ground beside a very bloody and very dead colt. Security surrounded the Princess as she picked up the mangled corpse and looked into its vacant eyes. Luna followed her to the spot and sat down beside her. “Are you alright?” She took in the expression and solitary tear from her estranged sibling before asking differently. “Sister, do you mourn for him? You really are new to me.” “Me too.” The white one collected her thoughts and expressed, “I’m not afraid of him, I’m afraid of them.” She motioned to the crowd with Solar banners being held back at a distance. “I just thought the last one had burst already.” Luna thought, “That must be one of those bubble references I still do not get.” This was a bad foreboding against the future stability of a united Equestria. “I am tired of these power struggles, but the ponies are not. Experience has taught them that authority comes from power.” “You mean I taught them that,” Celestia reacted. “Do not take it that way. You cannot put it all on yourself, you are different now,” Luna tried to reassure her. “So what do we do?” she asked, still distraught. “All we can do is try to show them that they should only accept authority that comes from justice.” “But we’re not doing that right now,” Celestia countered bitterly. “We are leading now because we are the ones who can, and not because we should be the ones. I shouldn’t be. We need to have the trials. We can’t make a real government unless me and all my monsters take responsibility for what we did. The general almost followed me well enough to destroy the world, but he wasn’t the only one like him.” “But Celestia!” her concerned sister objected. “That would mean you would have to stand trial. I know you’re not the same pony, but how can we prove that? How could you survive through HER trial?” “I don’t know how, but I have to,” the conflicted alicorn declared. “The goddess has to die.”
Goddess on TrialChapter 42: A Goddess on Trial The laws of Equestria, as they were over a thousand years before, were to be the standard for the trials. These laws were the last to be agreed upon by all the powers in Equestria, and were not tainted with the ways of the dark times over whose deeds they would now preside. The actual trial was to be conducted as swiftly as possible and with all necessary measures for public safety. It was to take place during the course of one night, if possible, so that the former Princess would not be needed to raise the sun during proceedings and therefore have an opportunity to escape. Celestia rode to the Unified National Courthouse in Canterlot in a covered carriage that shielded her from large, unruly crowds that lined the roads as she rode by. Despite her guards, there was some disruption in security before they were underway that allowed a group of teenage colts to vandalize the carriage. “Trollestia” was spray-painted in blood red on the side, then crossed out and replaced with “Killestia” and “Molestia.” “Soul-snatcher” was perhaps the mildest label, accompanied by various other words which made her realize that the Equestrian language could be far more vulgar than she had previously thought. She had turned down offers to make other transportation arrangements, and it was from this verbal collage that she emerged at her destination. Opposing mobs were held at bay by the security perimeter. A sign from one side read “I Detestia”. On the other side, a robed figure wailed, “Fools! Do not insult the goddess! You will all burn! You will not be admitted to the afterlife!” From the approach to the courthouse, Celestia could see what was meant by “all necessary measures” even in the fading light: the “Even Justice” rifles of the rooftop snipers were there to protect their namesake in the face of a defendant that would be difficult to control if she resisted. She was ushered past a gauntlet of cameras and crystal balls into the side door of the marble edifice. As she took her seat in the courtroom the wire frame and flickering lights of a disenchanting prism suddenly closed around her. The judge, a stately, bifocaled old colt, glanced up from the materials he was reviewing and explained, “A necessary precaution, I’m afraid.” The prosecutor smiled, pleased that his suggestions as to security had been taken seriously. Why, to think what could happen should such a magician become violent under accusations and sentencing… To speed the trial, some unusual arrangements had been made. Due to the scope of the inquiry, the witnesses involved were numerous, especially those called by the prosecution, and they filled half of the courtroom floor. They would all be available to offer testimony and be cross-examined at any relevant time. Celestia had called for her friends and acquaintances from when she was Dusk: Twilight, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Rarity, Applejack, and Trixie. Celestia had also requested Doctor Redheart and several experts on magical artifacts. The prosecution had filled hundreds of seats with nervous, mortified victims; grim, worn soldiers; and politicians whose expressions were unreadable. Both sides had asked Luna to testify, and she agreed to both. Luna entered the courtroom once again. She had already faced her trial and was still Princess and Premier. Nightmare Moon’s atrocity had already been punished with a thousand years of exile by the revered Elements. She had been charged with numerous lesser offenses since then, and cleared of most of these. Imperial and Republic intelligence reports surfaced that removed most of the suspicion that had been cast on her by the media. Luna was convicted of infringing on the rights of her citizens, bypassing the Senate’s authority on important matters, and knowingly issuing orders with terrible consequences. However, in all of this she was more than vindicated. She was the one who gave her citizens rights as such, and had breached their freedoms to protect their lives. She was the one who purposefully lessened her own authority by founding her state as a republic, and had only acted outside of her role in moments of immediate need. While it was not always clear that she had made the right decisions, Celestia had forced her into terrible dilemmas more than once. The trial served to address the misgivings the ponies of the old Solar Empire had about her and to introduce them to her noble character for the first time. Now vested with authority and privilege in the new Republic of Equestria, she entered the arena to fill a different role. She was a witness; she was security; and she was the keeper of certain items of material evidence. She had brought a led-lined steel case from the Vault and now willed it to roll in front of her as she crossed the room and took her seat front and center of the floor. Twilight Sparkle attempted to keep up with the Princess, but she was stuck in a wheelchair and a tight ball of supporting friends. The tubes in her nostrils led to an attached pump that hummed softly as it assisted her breathing. She had not been able to attend Luna’s trial, but she was finally discharged from the hospital before this more dire examination. Some doctors said that she would never be able to live a normal life, but she and her friends would not accept that. Rainbow Dash hovered over the wheelchair. “I know I said it before, Twilight, but that is an awesome scar! It has an epic scar story, too.” Twilight looked up and added weakly, “It was a much better story with you in it.” “No problem, just saving the world!” the heady captain bragged with her chest out. Her friends gave her a stare. Applejack adjusted her hat and looked up from pushing Twilight. “You know, saving the world with all of you guys,” Dash corrected. They filed into their seats in the front row next to Luna. Twilight turned to the Princess as much as she could. “Who’s on the case, are they good enough—” she paused for her lungs to fill, “What are her chances?” The Princess’s eyes darted from judge to prosecutor before following Twilight’s insistent hoof to a vacant booth. “Oh, the defense attorney…” Luna remembered, and met the unicorn’s worried gaze to inform seriously, “He was very good. Celestia and he could not agree. I tried to stop her, but she dismissed him. She has decided to represent herself; due to her standing, she is allowed this, but I do not think it is wise.” She moved on to review and evaluate the other players, directing her attention to the judge. “It was difficult to find a judge who is not biased, but I believe Thoroughgood only wants to uphold the principles of justice.” His black robe spilling out around the edges of his high podium, Judge Thoroughgood was an imposing sight, but there was something gentle in his eyes. Though his garment hid his markus adeptus, any who saw him could easily envision the fair scale on his flank. His mane had fallen out, and his exposed forehead held layers of wrinkles earned in heavy consideration. Together with his enormous white beard, these features gave him the appearance of a being that had been left behind by the guile and turmoil of the past centuries. “He believes justice itself is the highest goal, and that the law is its manifestation. He was also well suited for this case because of his studies of history.” Luna finally permitted herself to consider the only pony who truly wanted to be seen in that courtroom—the prosecuting attorney. “That is Friedrich Champion. He is one of the most fiery products of my egalitarian legal reforms. He sees it as his duty to protect the weak by punishing the guilty. He no doubt intends to earn lasting fame and cement his reputation as a great voice for the common pony by tearing down the power that he distrusts.” They eyed the young lawyer as he stood proudly in a blue suit. His dark mane was styled with an overabundance of product to form a bristle of spikes; it could have been taken to be comical. In this setting however, as he stared doggedly at his target, its jagged, swept-back contour gave him an aggressive appearance Applejack said what they were both thinking. “So they’re too good? That’s too bad.” “Before the trial commences it is necessary to commit certain facts to record,” the judge solemnly addressed the crowd. Though it was just as much for the benefit of the cameras, he did not deign to look at these upstart technological intrusions into the ancient and hallowed realm of his beloved justice. “It has been suggested that this trial is meaningless because this court is unable to punish the defendant, should she be found guilty. This presumed inability stems from the fact that the defendant, the former Princess or Empress Celestia, is required to fully raise the sun and sustain life on this world at its current level. Death, or removal of magical capacity, would prevent this requirement from being met and is clearly untenable. Banishment or imprisonment of any form which did not address the preeminent magical power of the defendant could be circumvented by said power. It is agreed that in such circumstances the defendant could force her release by refusing to raise the sun until her every demand, not limited to freedom, were met. It has been claimed that this court is incompetent to issue a verdict on one whom it depends for existence. The court admits that a verdict of not guilty would also be invalid should the court be found incapable of ruling otherwise. “In light of this, many scientific and magical experts have been consulted to devise a method of punishment that could be implemented so that this trial may proceed with integrity. A combination of potions and forcibly administered therapies has emerged which could place any recipient in a semi-conscious, suggestible state. In this state the subject is unable to employ willpower or faculties of reason, but can be made to perform tasks on command. This process does not interfere with the magical endowment of that individual, so the defendant could be made to raise the sun from such a state. This process can be administered daily to extend this state over any period that is desired. The maximum penalty that can be enforced would be to put the defendant in this state indefinitely. It is to be noted that the permanent removal of thought from an individual is tantamount to intellectual death.” All present are now made aware that this court is capable and willing to uphold any verdict that it may reach. The trial is now commenced.” Then came the prosecution’s opening statement: “Now that the great monster of our times has been brought to light, we have the chance to show that justice truly applies to all, and that we need not live in fear of any. A great number of witnesses have been gathered to testify against the would-be goddess Celestia, but rest assured, many more could have been found. Indeed some of the events in question have been observed by and have affected nearly everpony in Equestria. With the magnitude and number of charges on hoof, many significant charges will not be mentioned. The prosecution will claim as its mission only to produce the most solid and severe charges, which are the best-documented and will determine sentencing. I beg the defense not to contest many of these cases, which are undeniable. In so doing, many of her helpless and ashamed victims, whose testimony is of the most fragile nature, will be spared further humiliation.” “Yes. You’re right,” was her short and resigned opening statement. “I don’t want to hurt them any more,” she said regretfully from her glowing cage. Luna and Twilight whispered to each other with concern. “Yes? Any more?” the judge inquired. He adjusted his glasses to peer over them with surprised eyes. “Not to be condescending, but the defendant is aware that anything she says will most certainly be used against her?” “I know.” Capitalizing on the moment, Friedrich pushed, “In order to spare the witnesses and complete the trial within the safe time period, the prosecution moves for the charges to be considered in sum, instead of separately, as one somewhat malleable charge.” Judge Thoroughgood pointed out, “That is quite a shortcut, and may affect sentencing a great deal; however the defense must agree to these terms.” “I agree,” Celestia responded quickly. “They should be considered in sum, with one punishment.” The judge acknowledged the movement and signaled, “Let the defendant then be accused.” The prosecutor produced a long list, and with his chest out, began, “The defendant, former Princess or Empress Celestia of the Solar Empire, is charged with innumerable charges including but not limited to—“ Champion drew a deep breath and ran the edge of his hoof theatrically across the entries, to suggest the magnitude of what was omitted, “—at least twenty-five counts of kidnapping and statutory rape; at least three counts of murder in the first degree; at least thirteen counts of murder in the second degree; at least three hundred forty counts of negligent ponicide; as well as war crimes: at least three counts of pointless attacks on civilian populations during military operations; and at least seventeen counts of international terrorism against targets not holding military, governmental, or industrial significance. Finally, although this is not a legally defined charge, the defendant’s demand of worship as a deity has resulted in massive philosophical and psychological damage to Equestria.” Thoroughgood squinted as if pained and allowed a moment of silence for the casualties of these fell deeds. He then resumed his impartially watchful demeanor and proceeded, “How do you plead to these charges? Which charges do you wish to contest?” In a soft voice, but not quietly, Celestia replied, “I will not contest them your honor. I committed all of these crimes and more.” The judge raised his bushy eyebrows. “You have brought many witnesses and some evidence, but you have not called upon any of them. What is the meaning of this? Are you at this point pleading guilty, voluntarily and intelligently?” “I am guilty,” she admitted, “but you can’t punish me.” He squinted at her, this time with consternation. Surely she understood what he had already stated about the new punishment that was available. “I am not sure what you mean. May I remind you of the precedent that has been established before this trial. This court has already convicted many high officials and officers of the former Solar Empire of crimes against Equestria and has therefore sentenced them to the most severe of punishments.” There were angry murmurs in the crowd and the bailiff indicated that the judge should make some concessions to the former Imperials on behalf of the court. “It is irrelevant to this matter,” the judge griped as he digressed, “but the court is forced to note that a few members of the former Lunar Republic have also been convicted of such crimes.” He continued from his previous statement: “The records show that some of these individuals claimed that they acted under your orders, and you yourself have attested to this fact. You yourself have claimed that you were responsible for creating a state of affairs that made such incidents inevitable. You have also confessed to a multitude of additional charges; these crimes being too numerous to repeat here despite their gravity. Since the court has administered the fullest punishment to individuals who were accused of lesser crimes and acted under your authority, how can the court now administer any lesser punishment in your case?” “A crime can only be punished once,” she said matter-of-factly. “That is true. After any court has carried out a sentence for a crime, further punishment may not be meted out again by any other court for the same crime. However, this does not pertain to your case, unless you are prepared to ENLIGHTEN the court and demonstrate otherwise,” he said with returning frustration and clear contempt. The use and emphasis of enlighten was an obvious jab at the former ruler, who had nearly redefined the word by her constant use of it. “I was already punished,” she stated calmly. “I was stripped of my power and killed for doing all these things, just like I deserved. That’s what started the second war.” The judge was not used to this line of reasoning and thought for a while before responding, “Do you mean to refer to the magical incident in the palace that temporarily caused you to be unable to raise the sun? The cause of it has not been determined, although it has been deemed by all experts to be so concerted an event that it cannot be an accident. An unknown force intentionally disabled you and caused your removal from power. In this new defense, you must therefore claim this mysterious force as a court.” “I do.” Thoroughgood found this point interesting enough to explore despite the other absurd elements of the claim. The prosecutor gritted his teeth, holding himself back to allow the respected judge to satisfy his curiosity. “While it would be difficult to justify this definition in technical and legal terms, pure reason shows that a greater force than yourself did pass some sort of selective judgment on you. Additionally, while this court cannot approve of an entity of which it knows nothing, the facts do demand the court’s respect. This entity’s actions have caused the reunification of Equestria and placed you and others who were above the law under the power of this court, displaying principles of universal justice. Although this kind of talk is not usually permitted in legal proceedings, in the face of all that has transpired, this court simply does not have the faith to deny the existence of higher courts than itself. Therefore this court recognizes this entity as worthy of consideration as a court. However, it is not understood that the defendant has been in fact punished.” Champion’s veins bulged as Thoroughgood still refused to acknowledge the obvious. “The removal from power of the defendant by the entity could be assessed as purely an intervention for the sake of the world to prevent further wrongdoing. It could be likened to apprehending a suspect and detaining the suspect until a trial could be held. In this view of the matter, the judgment of the ‘previous court’ is to deliver the defendant to this court for trial.” Judge Thoroughgood was quite flattered that the discussion framed him as the mediator chosen by a higher justice. “Although this line of defense has been fascinating to consider, this court does not find the grounds to say that the defendant has already been punished.” “OBJECTION! The defendant has just claimed that she is DEAD!” the prosecutor snapped, gesturing at Celestia as if at a loss for words. This outburst brought the old judge back from his intellectual musings. He returned to that part of Celestia’s statement which he would not have even dignified with an answer in any lesser circumstances. “True, true. The defense will of course be FORCED to concede that you have not been punished with death, since you are not dead.” “I don’t concede,” the great alicorn cryptically replied. “But you must,” the judge insisted. “How can you take this position?” She explained, “When most of me melted and boiled away at the palace, and I was left exposed—however much of me that is left from before—the sunlight burned me. From that point I could feel myself burning up slowly, and I continued to die from the inside with no hope of recovery. So the punishment that was given to me was death.” The wrinkly old colt inquired, “Well, I do recall hearing something of these curious details, but how can you be so certain of your condition? I cannot accept your opinion as such, of course. The court must know more about the defendant’s health at that time.” Doctor Redheart presented a worn journal to the bailiff, who read the open page aloud. “Medical report, Chief Medical Officer Redheart, NLRA: ‘The patient is in deteriorating health. Numerous undiagnosed pains are reported throughout the body. Stiffness of the joints has increased and the patient has less energy every day. Most disturbingly, the patient has begun to give off white substance that appears to be ash and smells of smoke, to exhibit burns on the skin, and has been observed to cough blood and ash. No condition is known that produces these symptoms. At this time the patient is untreatable and appears to be deteriorating to the point of death.’” “Your honor, while this may be sufficient to establish that this condition was severe, this CLEARLY cannot be considered a fully applied death penalty,” Champion was quick to dismiss. “In the end, the condition was treated in the crystal cave ruins. Therefore, if this is some death sentence that was justly administered by the previous agents, it has been unjustly interrupted by treatment that defeated the intent of the sentence.” “The magic chamber still required death,” Celestia informed. “Since someone would die for my crimes, it was a chance for a pardon, but it didn’t stop my sentence. I could only survive if somepony willingly died in my place.” “A substitutive pardon?” Thoroughgood gave his beard a stroke. “Most unusual. But I was not aware of a requirement for willingness in the operation of the device.” Princess Luna stood up and interjected, “I was in charge at that time and I stated that it would have to be somepony who was willing.” “Witness testimony was not requested!” the judge pointed out, “but this court is invested in the content of what has been said so it will be addressed.” “If I may, your honor,” the prosecutor began, unsure of his place since protocol had been breached. “Despite this requirement from the present authorities, this is not a true willing substitution due to the understood compulsion for somepony to make the substitution. If no one died to revive the defendant, the sun could not remain in the sky and therefore it can be more appropriately seen as a sacrifice for the good of Equestria, as is the interest of soldiers in battle. Might I add that this act by the unicorn, miss Rarity, cannot be a substitution for the death penalty, not only because of the compulsive nature of the situation, but also because Rarity survived unharmed. Only the threat of death was administered, but it was in fact hollow.” Celestia protested, “That’s not true, your honor. I’m really grateful for what Rarity did, but I wasn’t talking about her. Some pony did die. A great alicorn. The author of the book died there for me.” “The book?” Thoroughgood immediately questioned. “Are you referring to the magical artifact that led you to the device? How do we know that what you say occurred?” “We found a page of the book there. When I looked into it, he showed me what he did,” she recalled reverently. “He was a great magician, and I think he built the device. I saw him give his life willingly there. He did it for me, just for me.” The judge inquired with surprise, “This book showed you all that? Did it show this to anyone else?” “No your honor,” she admitted. “Objection! There is no evidence!” the prosecutor decried. “This is merely the defendant’s testimony, and bizarre testimony!” “The objection is upheld,” the judge said, nodding. “The defendant could claim to have seen anything.” “I further object that we do not know if this magic book is reliable,” the suave colt pressed his advantage. “The book is the reason we’re all alive!” Celestia countered, showing her temper for the first time. The judge pointed out, “I do recall from reading the case that using the book in the Vault led to the discovery of the facility wherein her ability to raise the sun was restored.” “Allegedly, your honor, who else saw this, besides the suspect?” Champion insinuated. “No one else read the book, your honor,” Celestia admitted, with a creeping anxiety. “But a page of the book was found there, and I was restored.” “Just a page? How do you know it has anything to do with the book?” Champion again asked doubtfully. “Luna,” she prompted. Luna again stood and reported, “The curators of the Vault have subjected both to sci/magic screening. The materials and approximate age do align. The enchantment on each of them is identical. Nothing about the enchantment besides that could be determined in safe testing. It is of a type unknown to my experts.” She presented documentation from the researcher in charge. The bailiff surveyed the sheets of data and technical jargon and took a breath. “Don’t, don’t read that,” Thoroughgood groaned. “That may be, but the suspect was in custody of the book before that. She could have placed it there…” the prosecutor started to suggest. The judge turned some irritation his way for the first time. “If that is true, that would mean she had prior knowledge of or even involvement in her own downfall. The defense has proved… unpredictable, but I did not think you would resort to such wild speculation.” Champion leaned back from his forward stance and folded his hooves. “Whatever the book showed, Miss Rarity was the one who performed this mock substitution in real life,” he said scornfully. Celestia shook her head slightly. “Rarity tried, but the crystals would not transfer her life into me.” “And again, this is by the defendant’s word?” he prodded. At the judge’s permission, the relevant witnesses spoke. “I’m still here, remember?” Rarity quipped, mildly indignant that she could have been forgotten. Luna testified, “All of us who were there will attest that the operation failed when she was on the receiving platform.” “Then how exactly was the defendant restored?” Thoroughgood asked her. “There was a tremendous energy already at the site,” she recounted. “All the unicorns could sense it, and it caused the attached crystals to glow brightly. However, it could not or would not move while Rarity was present. Only when she was alone under the charged crystal in the sunlight was Celestia restored. Its power flowed into her; after that moment I could no longer perceive an aura from the device and the crystals no longer glowed.” “So the life that was taken did originate in the past, as my sister claims,” Luna summarized. She revealed further, “Experts have dated everything in the cave to the same time period, but the energy felt to me as though it predated that kingdom by a great deal. I do not know if the energy could have been from a pony—though it is perhaps possible that it was from a strange alicorn—but it seemed akin to the Elements of Harmony in some way.” The prosecutor demanded, “How do we know the author intended this for Celestia—who was not born? How could he have been aware of her crimes that she had not yet committed? Without full knowledge and intent, this is nothing like a substitution.” “He knew me,” Celestia spoke surely. “When I first read the book, it accused me, just like I’ve been accused today. I think—no, I know that he is the one who unmade me.” “We don’t know that,” Champion replied, falling back to his familiar position. “The book knew me,” she insisted, and motioned to Twilight. “I opened the book, but I couldn’t see anything,” Twilight spoke carefully. Her voice was quiet, but in her condition no one asked her to repeat herself. “It would only show Celestia.” Luna added, “Indeed, the page we found now holds her image.” Celestia marveled, “He knew me, and knew that I should die for what I’ve done. I didn’t think it was possible for someone like me to be pardoned, but I could not turn down his life.” “He must have been some kind of madcolt!” the prosecutor accused. “He isn’t just at all if he’s letting such a monster go free.” “I thought so at first,” Celestia granted, “but his energy, his heart changed me. I don’t think I could do all those things anymore. He was very wise, but I still can’t fathom such a sacrifice.” “Objection!” Champion yelled. “This court can’t accept such an outrageous substitution! No sacrifice is worth enduring HER!” Thoroughgood pondered all this. “That is certainly worth considering. Is the defense prepared to give an answer?” “I am, your honor. He was a ruler too, and powerful enough to defeat me. The one who saved Equestria from my awful reign is as much of a hero as I am a villain. You don’t have the opportunity to deny the substitution…” she paused and attempted to contain her emotions. “It’s too late to stop the substitution because he has already died.” She stifled sobs. “If you really recognize his judgment, would you hold in contempt a sentence a higher court gave its life to carry out? Will you not honor him?” She shook her head and cried. “It IS an outrageous substitution. I’m not worth his life! I… I don’t deserve this but—will you not honor him?” “Objection,” Champion spoke again, this time with a calm finality. “The identity of this supposed substitute, as well as his status, intent, and even existence are based on HER reading of that book. None of this is factual!” “If I may?” Luna requested from the floor. The judge permitted her. At last she pushed the heavy case into the middle of the room and opened it. Most of its size was due to measures of security and preservation. The book lay closed, resting neatly in an impression in the surrounding foam that prevented it from being jostled. Suddenly the bizarre artifact that was the focus of so much debate was among them. Many in the courtroom took a slight gasp. A weird awe filled the room as everyone stared silently. Some ponies quietly excused themselves. “Friedrich Champion,” she addressed, “if you will not trust her reading of the book, perhaps you wish to examine it yourself.” The proud prosecutor would not easily back down from a challenge. Logically, it would be better for his case for him to read it than for any sympathetic to the defense to do so. He stepped out from behind his booth, and Luna stepped back as he advanced to the enigmatic artifact. He gave the courtroom a confident smile and reached to open the cover. He stopped with his hoof an inch above it. A chill crept up his foreleg. The earth pony could not stand the sight of the golden image on the cover. If what Celestia said was true, it did not show a unicorn but an alicorn, and one who had imposed his will on the whole world—exactly the kind of being Friedrich hated. Now this book, this enchanted thing, was waiting. He turned abruptly and protested, “You can’t bring this in here! This is invalid evidence.” “All precedent would demand that such evidence is valid,” the judge stated. “If we here cannot examine magical individuals, forces, and artifacts, then this court is not even capable of discussing current events.” The prosecutor took a step away from it. “Yes your honor, but it—it isn’t evidence at all! It’s possessed! It could have shown her anything, and it could show anything now!” Thoroughgood acknowledged, “This book does appear to be possessed of some form of intelligence. Just as the Elements of Harmony were recognized as delivering a ruling on Nightmare Moon, it may be considered as a witness as much as evidence. However, in either case, it is relevant to this examination and valid in this courtroom.” Champion closed the thick case. “It’s too dangerous to open in this room. Send it back to the Vault where it belongs!” “A prosecutor is not required to examine evidence personally,” the judge nodded. “I will!” a voice called weakly from the floor. Twilight’s lungs filled back up with a hiss and she offered, “I can open it. I’m not afraid to look into it again.” “Yeah, I can read it too!” Rainbow Dash added, not to be left out of bravery. The other friends each agreed in turn, and Pinkie Pie did so exuberantly. When she remembered the formality of the event she sat back down next to Trixie. “Trixie isn’t going to touch that thing!” the usually brash unicorn announced. “Any of you could be permitted to read it, and be a witness as to its contents,” Thoroughgood allowed. The prosecutor gave the front row a sweeping motion and scolded, “You were all brought by the defendant. They’re biased.” “True,” the judge nodded. “However, this does emphasize that the problem is easily overcome. It would only be most proper for the book to be immediately removed to the evidence rooms and read by impartial investigators, perhaps curators of the Vault.” “No!” Champion cried. His mind raced. He could not allow this extra tyrant in league with Celestia to extend his hooves any further into the present. “It—it’s a menace! It shouldn’t be read at all! Don’t let it be opened ever again! Can’t you feel it? It is too dangerous, too awful!” “Mr. Champion, are you being affected?” Judge Thoroughgood asked with some concern. “Is your ability to prosecute this case compromised? One of your esteemed colleagues may replace you if necessary. Perhaps during the break that would be necessary to review the evidence, you could recover your nerve.” “No, don’t take that recess,” the distressed prosecutor shot back. “It’s not right, don’t let anyone use that thing!” “Are you actually refusing to consider the contents of that book as evidence or testimony?” the judge asked slowly, enunciating clearly. “Yes!” Champion replied hurriedly. “Yes, your honor.” “Are you aware of the ramifications of your refusal?” Thoroughgood asked with some disbelief. “I don’t care!” he claimed. “You do not care? At a crucial point in this case, with so much at stake, you do not care?!” This professed apathy offended the judge like few things could, and his demeanor became very severe. Attaching himself to the judge’s podium the desperate prosecutor continued his impassioned plea. “No! It’s too dangerous! It’s with her! Who knows what it could do.” “Very well,” Thoroughgood said threateningly. The judge pushed the intruding hooves away with his gavel. “Go back to your seat and listen while I explain to the court what you have just done.” He informed the others, “If the prosecution refuses to examine evidence or hear a witness, it must concede the arguments the defense bases upon them. By refusing to consider the basis of the defense’s claims, it loses its power to contest the truth of those claims. Therefore, a number of claims will now be presumed true.” The judge mulled over the state of affairs as they had been left by these events. After some consideration he spoke again: “What is not affected is the defendant’s claim to have been changed. The fact of her renewal is neither based on the contents of the book nor objectively verifiable. It is no more admissible than any defendant’s claims to have turned over a new leaf.” The prosecutor stood back up to nod his agreement. “Moreover, the court can no longer be concerned with these matters due to the fact that punishment has already been delivered for the crimes she is accused of,” the judge concluded. “Celestia, there is no basis for you to be held by any authority except for accusations of crimes committed at any time after your fall from power.” “What! Your honor, how can you do that?” Champion complained impotently. Thoroughgood did not answer but continued, “Of course, for the sake of Equestria, there is no way that you can be permitted to resume your position of authority. That would have occurred if you had been found not guilty. Since you have been convicted of tremendous and devastating abuse of power, it would be gross negligence to the safety of the population to allow you to have political power again in addition to your innate magical power. You are hereby prohibited from holding any political office for the duration of your life. Due to the magnitude of your personal ability, this measure would be ineffective were I not to add that it must be upheld with immediate utmost force without due process should authorities find it necessary for national security. This much may be contended against but I think it will stand: voting, or endorsing a candidate publicly, is also prohibited with lesser punishments, due to your cult following. In direct opposition to traditional Equestrian philosophy, it appears you are now just another pony, who also happens to raise the sun. Oh, I almost forgot, any delay in raising the sun may also be met with immediate force.” “No pressure,” Celestia thought to herself. To Champion’s disbelief, she remained calm and apparently at peace with the ruling. Defeat soured in the prosecutor’s mouth and he grasped for a way to salvage some of his honor—to retaliate. He gave her a cunning glance. “Your honor, shouldn’t the defendant also be prohibited from contact with magical artifacts?” he suggested. “Quite right,” the judge agreed, “access to powerful artifacts is of course a privilege of heads of state and authorized personnel. More importantly, the defendant is not to have contact with any source of further power. Any such contact is fully and immediately punishable.” Despite her reprieve, Celestia found herself suddenly distraught. “But what about the book?” “Oh yes!” the old judge exclaimed. “The book is an excellent example. It has already been proven that, in the right hooves, it can change the fate of our world. When we consider also the Elements of Harmony, it is apparent that magical artifacts have played a pivotal role in crises throughout history. Under no circumstances is the defendant to read, touch, or even be near that book.” “Your honor, please! He wrote that book for me, if I don’t read it—“ she begged. “Silence! This is the sentence of the court, and it is final,” he said, with a pound of his gavel. The judge motioned for exhibit C to be removed from the scene and secured. As Luna locked its case, she told her sister, “I am glad you will remain with us; and as far as this artifact, I think it is for the best.” The courtroom breathed more easily after Luna escorted it safely away. Celestia was released from her prison, but remained fixed on the spot, staring after the book. Her heart sank with loss—until the six friends came to congratulate her on her victory. The spell of the terrible goddess had been broken, but Celestia had survived, and now she was free.
Fly in the OintmentChapter 43 Early in the crisp October morning, the royal chariot approached the outskirts of Ponyville. At Celestia’s request, no grand ceremony was planned for her entrance, nor was she even to be seen coming into the town so conspicuously. Of course the townsfolk had been notified—some would say warned—that she would be coming to live there, but the exact time of her arrival was not made public. “I don’t know what all the fuss is about,” she complained to Luna, “it’s not like I’m a Princess.” “What is this fuss you refer to?” Luna wondered innocently. Celestia leaned back against the edge of the shining golden chariot and gave her sister a doubtful look. As the two alicorns stared at each other in silence, the only sound that could be heard was the flapping of the wings of the two formations of pegasus guards that flanked the chariot. The leader of the known world blinked and contemplated the statement from the shade of the giant banner of the Republic of Equestria. Celestia sighed at her sister, and thought, “That’s it, we’ve been royal way too long.” “After all that has occurred, it would be irresponsible for me to travel without an escort,” Luna explained with conviction. Another moment’s thought and she looked down, adding sorrowfully, “Unless you wish you had not come with royal accompaniment.” “No, I didn’t mean it like that,” Celestia quickly reassured her, “Of course I’m glad you came, sister. You were the one who was having a hard time processing me, remember?” “I’m learning,” Luna offered. “I hope that is not why you are leaving the capitol.” Celestia returned in a sweetly consoling tone, “Of course not, I know it’s been hard for you to forget everything I did, but you’ve accepted me now and it’s been a joy to get to know you as a friend again.” She tried not to show her sudden anxiety. “Shit,” she thought, “I hope it’s not still creepy when I use that voice.” “For me as well,” Luna affirmed first, before addressing the new tension. Luna was nothing if not perceptive, and they had been through this before. “It is all right, thank you. If we do not act like it is unsettling, eventually it will not be. It is really quite good, since you mean it.” They shared a quick reassuring smile before the white alicorn finally gave voice to her original concern. “I just want to be normal now, and to get away from politics and the capitol and just be a pony.” “Very well,” Luna conceded. A playful twinkle entered her eye. “But I AM a Princess, and this is—how do ponies say these days?” She tossed her glittering mane and finished blithely, “How I roll.” Celestia laughed. Too soon they were landed outside the town, and she hopped down onto the grass. “I hope you will visit soon,” Luna said. Celestia turned one eye to her sister—come to think of it, why did she always do that?—and quipped, “Better yet, you visit me, you never take a break! Honestly, part of what’s so great about the night is sleep.” The Princess answered seriously, “I will rest when the world does not require my attention.” Celestia knew she would never beat her little sis in a straight-face competition. “Come here,” she invited, turning back to the chariot. They rested their heads fondly on each other’s shoulders. “I will feel you every sunrise,” the night Princess said in farewell. “And every sunset,” returned the sunlight mare. Celestia pulled back and the chariot rose up to join the hovering squadrons on its way back to Canterlot. She walked into town as unobtrusively as a great alicorn can, but the mayor still managed to intercept her before she could find her home. The long-time ruler had learned the tells and mannerisms of politicians, and could usually spot empty formality. It DIDN'T take her trained eye to see the fear behind the mayor’s cheerful greeting. The well-intentioned mare’s hastily assembled posse hid behind their leader, except for one colt whose scowl was quite genuine. “Welcome to Ponyville! We are honored to have such a distinguished figure join our little community,” she claimed. “If there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, please let me know. You can usually find me in the new town hall, but if I’m not there any of these ponies will know where I am.” She gestured to them, and immediately they began to sweat. “I hope you can do one thing for me,” Celestia remarked. “Yes?” the mayor piped. “Try to relax,” the vaunted newcomer requested. With effort, she eliminated any hint of sarcasm and vowed, “I promise not to destroy the town.” “Again,” the surly colt snapped. The mayor’s jaw dropped and her eyes bugged out over her glasses. The regretful harbinger nodded to the bold one. Everyone knew that the Empress’s war machine had burned most of the place, but no pony was aware that Celestia had aided in the evacuation. Luna had asked the Senate to use army engineers and weapons funding to rebuild the ravaged areas, and Ponyville was back on its hooves again. With the newly united state, the town was no longer under the curse of the border. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” she said, “and I won’t require much. Really, I can help any time you need.” There was nowhere for the conversation to go, thankfully. Taking her leave, she found Peaceful Way and moved down the homely but pleasant row of houses. Inevitably, there were a few frightened eyes peering out at her through blinds and shutters. She followed the street to the end of the row, where one yellow house stood a space apart from the rest. It was an average home aside from the size of the doors and windows. She was surprised to see two strange pegasi drop down to meet her. The blue-maned colt addressed her solemnly. “You may have noticed that some ponies don’t want you here. I just wanted to let you know, we don’t all feel that way. If Luna forgives you, so do I.” His purple and green mate forced a smile and nodded. Celestia could only reply with a sincere “Thank you,” and the pair was on their way. “Perhaps,” she thought, “It wasn’t a mistake to come here after all.” She opened her freshly-painted blue door and took a second look at its size. It was comfortably high and unnecessarily wide. “I’m big, not fat,” she complained. She entered and examined her new living arrangements. It was not luxurious but she would get used to it. The country fashion of the décor did not particularly appeal to her, but all of the furniture was adequately proportioned. She looked out the broad front window, suddenly realizing she was still being watched. Who thought this was a good idea? It was probably so she could see the sun, but privacy was her greatest luxury at this point, and she quickly closed the drapes. She took a deep breath, finally relieved. She turned and her relief disintegrated at the sight of another window, of sorts. A terrible creature stared intensely at her from a polished silver surface. She looked down, shying away from her own face in the mirror. What she had just seen was not only her body, but a symbol that meant so many things to so many ponies. To many it meant fear, greed, and abuse. She wondered what it meant to her now. Those two pegasi were willing to see her differently because of Luna. Her sister, and those friends she had encountered, forgave her because she had really changed. There was one who forgave her first; he was the reason she had changed. Before she was better he drew her, and liked what he saw. With that thought, she looked up again and smiled at herself. She caught herself before she went further down a road that led to foolish emotions that might mess up her new life. Luna was right, she should move on. She should not have made such a rash suggestion to Trixie. Celestia made up her mind to apologize to the stage magician for puffing her up with false and reckless hopes. The alicorn slowly understood that she should use mail, paper mail that would be physically carried to Canterlot, just like any normal pony would use. Looking around, she found a quill and paper, but the inkwell was empty. She would have to send a servant—no, she would have to send herself to go get ink. “Mail! I have a mail box,” she blurted to no one. She stepped back outside and approached the first mailbox she had ever used. Her anticipation rose. Could there be anything for her? She opened it, and there were several envelopes, as if they had just been waiting for her. She opened them on the spot, one after the other. She groaned as she sifted through several ads for public relations firms. Worse, there was an offer for an advertising deal. She buried her hoof in her face as she read, “Buy Celestia?!” What were they trying to sell, anyway? Sunscreen, apparently. “I’m sure all the hairless ponies are dying to get their hooves on some politically charged, ironic sunblock,” she mocked. Such garbage never made it through royal communications. Then again, there was a note that also would be filtered out that she would not wish to miss. It had colorful hearts and smiles around the large, sloppy words: “Dear Princess Celecita—” “Celecita?” she repeated, and an image forced its way into her mind’s eye. An alicorn mamacita wearing a huge sombrero was shaking a pair of maracas and began to belly dance—thought deleted. Back to the letter: “I am happy you are coming to Ponyville. Swats says you are bad, but I think you are pretty. I want to be a Princess. Maybe we could be Princesseses together. love Buttercup” Well, that was sweet. There was another letter, maybe it would also be sweet. She read: “Dear Celestia, Welcome to Ponyville. I hope you can enjoy your stay and work out your problems. On behalf of the parents I must ask that you not interact with fillies. Please avoid the area of the school. Also avoid going out around 8:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m. when students are walking to and from school. Enclosed is a map on which the school, playgrounds, and other areas of young pony activity are clearly marked so that you can plan your routes around them. Thanks in advance for your cooperation. I am sure that the signed petition in my office will not have to be used. Thanks, Cheerilee P.S. I know a good psychiatrist if you need one.” Celestia blushed as she took it in, and when she was done she glanced around furtively. Across the street a few houses down, a door stood open. A little yellow face, probably Buttercup, smiled cheerfully from behind her mother’s legs. A protective hoof shoved the foal back inside. Celestia looked back at her mail but could still feel the parent’s withering glare boring into her. When she couldn’t stand it any longer she galloped for the door of her new house, leaving a cloud of correspondence behind her. She slammed the door and leaned back against the wood. It was inevitable that she would still have to deal with her past here, though she had been hoping to forget that part in particular. She panted, unable to run from the memories that pursued her. But then that warm, fresh sensation, that newness, washed over her again and reassured her that she was no longer the monster they thought she was. It was only natural that she would have to gain their confidence and show them, through patient and consistent actions, what was now true about her on the inside She gave a near-inaudible whimper as she realized she would have to go back out to retrieve the map. She would need the map.
ColdChapter 45 Back inside her new abode, she considered the lock. She had hoped she would have the confidence to be comfortable in an open environment, but she really didn’t. She bolted it, thinking, “I’ll build up to that.” Celestia was worn out from her awkward day and was quite ready to give in to the night. She curled up on her bed and nuzzled the blankets. The mattress molded to her form as she relaxed into it, releasing all of her muscles. With a deep contented sigh, she whispered, “I’m telling you, sis, it’s the best part.” She expected to drift off to sleep, but her mind would not stop. Was she worried about tomorrow? “Nah, I can handle it,” she decided. Of course there would be awkward moments but she was getting used to that. She would have to pretend she didn’t, but she thought it was a relief, funny even. Of all the things she had to regret, partying wasn’t exactly the most horrible. She couldn’t let it happen again though; she would have to control herself a little, and have a talk with Pinkie Pie. Could she fit in like a normal pony? No, she wasn’t a normal pony, but she didn’t have to be. Even if she had an abnormal life here, she could still be happy. In time the community would accept her for what she was. Until then, she would have to run her life like a public relations campaign. She was sick of lies and pretense, but she wouldn’t need either. What reassured Celestia most of all was that she already had friends here. She was hopeful about her relationship with Pinkie Pie, Applejack and Fluttershy. She would definitely try to find Fluttershy sometime tomorrow, after she cleaned up the night’s mess. Celestia concluded that she had beat the system, and won it all. She could live a comfortable and carefree life. The demands of state would not weigh on her. She did not miss the wealth and certainly not the social posturing. Luxury was still open to her anyway; she had merely to visit Luna in Canterlot. She was content, even eager, to try out the simple country life. If she wanted a change of scene she could travel anywhere and still perform her only responsibility. Should she grow tired of the cozy accommodations, it would be easy to earn the money to upgrade, now that she had her powers back. In reality there was no point; she owned a small house, but the world was her home. She could run, fly, or teleport anywhere she willed. She could lie down in palaces, cottages, or under trees and on clouds beyond the reach of civilization. Now she was free. She had lived to see her happily ever after. After all these pleasant thoughts she should be sleeping like a foal, but she was not. There was something stirring in her that would not be put to rest. Her eyes opened at the discovery that she was afraid to sleep now, afraid that she would lose that something. She arose and moved through the house with a contemplative silence. Her mood called for a view into the clear expanse of the sky, so she stepped out into the back yard. She laid her graceful form in the center of the green. The door hung open; she couldn’t bring herself to close it. When it closed, she would have to be on one side of it or the other. The cool grass and the night breeze brought a chill to her skin. She welcomed it as more honest than the warmth of her chamber. She was supposed to be cold. Stars twinkled in the cloudless expanse overhead. In their company she could think the great thoughts that demanded to be explored. She and her sister were conscious that the sun and the stars still burned with fire even when they were beyond the sight of beast and pony. For whom did they shine then? Life received the energy given to it by the heavenly lights. Cascading from that energy were all the flowing, breaking, forming movements of the intricate workings of life. Beings continued the movement through their lives, came together, hurt and helped. Who did not need her? Who did she need? Her answer was unthinkable yet undeniable. The turn of her thoughts startled her, frightened her. The world had been interrupted from its natural course. Life, as living sentients, had continued its response as it thought and spoke to itself and wrote history. This, then, is its final and fullest expression; but it looks back to its giver and says, “You were wrong.” How tormented a creature it is. Rebelling against the warmth held out to it, life turns its motion to choke itself. Every year, this fact was commemorated in the gay celebrations of Heart’s Warming Eve. Once before, the collective of all hearts and minds had grown cold—so cold that it stopped itself, freezing backwards through spirit, action, organic motion, down to the fabric of nature, so that a veil shunned the heavenly light. Regretful yet stubborn minds separated to cut their ties, the very bonds that were the fulfillment of the life reaction and had made them prosper. As they scattered desperately into the vastness of the world, they met each other. Against their will and all probability, they found the others they had fled from and were joined together again, and warmed, for an era. Yet life still thought the same way. The destructive decision had been passed on through callous spirits and poured into her own, and she had stored up what she received. Even she, entrusted for an age to hold out the light to the world, despised its purpose. She acted in fear, hatred, conceit, and self-destructive selfishness. As she reacted to life, so the world reacted to her, forming a society that harmed the elite with pleasure garnered from the harm of the weak. The bitterness she sowed grew into another monster as her sister followed her example, and out of jealousy, attacked her. They spited the harmony of the heavens they represented with their animosity for each other. They multiplied warfare and cooperated in a competitive venture to create more and more powerful curses and weapons so that life could destroy itself. Their thoughts were selfish but their actions pursued death. They, too, had been interrupted. There must be a force that worked behind the scenes that carried out the agenda of the light and sustained an indestructible element of love against the tide of life’s malfeasance. Six ponies in particular had been called by this force, and received fragments of its own nature in the form of kindness, generosity, loyalty, honesty, laughter, and magic. Before they met each other they were bound together and destined to use these elements to interrupt Nightmare Moon. Luna’s course was reversed, and she only sacrificed for, protected, and cherished life, though her intentions were baffled by the Empress. That Celestia had been steadfast in selfish malice; in the face of love she delighted in her despise of life and her ill-gotten pleasures. What was meant by the word evil that was not true of her heart? Though she was born immortal, the legacy she willfully carried meant that she was always destined to die. That was the only natural and fair outcome. Recent events had begun when she felt that something was wrong. She had felt it more and more strongly up until the moment she was cast down. Then she had felt it, seen it, tasted it, even smelled it—but still could not put it to words. Only now did she know that what she could feel was the pure truth that it was wrong. Society was wrong, she was wrong, life was wrong. Its fundamental decision to undo itself by evil was the wrong choice. Life should continue to react, not to itself but to its source. In gratitude it should build itself up, through molecules and minds. The hearts of the living should, by selflessly offering love, fulfill the intent with which they were set in motion. Life did not create that love, but should accept it. The consequence of her defiance to the mysterious mover had been meted upon her directly, and not through her own kind. But instead of simply reacting to her, it had exalted its own nature when it refrained from completing her just destruction in that moment. Mercy was displayed for her against all Equestrian logic. The same six ponies that had been brought together by unknown paths to aid her sister had been brought together again, not by her but for her. The same intent guided the book into her hooves even while she was fighting it. Soldiers had captured the book, but it had captured their citadel. The author! Finally, here was a face behind these things, even if it was one she had not seen clearly. Before she was born he wrote the book for her and sent it to her. Three times she was shown in fable that the only possible result of her evil was death, and once she was shown in reality. But he had been with her and kept her from her death. He rescued her three times in illusion and once in life. He completed her reaction by dying her death, and finally interrupted her. He gave her heart his love and his life, setting her in motion on a new course. He had offered it, and the act was complete when she accepted it. Celestia wept. Why did he die? It should have been her. She had it coming, but he interrupted. A heart with such unearthly love should not die. Now she was supposed to live a normal and contented life. She was supposed to live a small and essentially selfish life, and leave the world alone. He could have saved the world without her, but chose to use her. Having become such an instrument, was she expected to remain motionless? Deeper still, having accepted his love, was she not to return it? She was supposed to be cold. Flashes above her drew her attention. From behind the moon, shooting stars appeared and streaked across the sky, burning up over Ponyville. The beautiful shower was a beautiful gesture. From the vulnerability of her state she received her sister’s gift with childlike wonder. Luna could be so severe, but she had also become so caring. Celestia stood and reached out with her magic, pulling solar wind down from its proper course. It was altogether too impractical and immense a feat to spend on an effect so transient, but the love in her heart had to reply to that which was sent. It took planning to set up a proper aurora; but she gathered one bright green ribbon to arc over the land. The meteor shower stopped, and she waited expectantly. More streaks came out of the black, flying in the formation of a heart. It was so cheesy, but she didn’t care. She fell back down, laughing through her tears. She laughed for another minute, but that too turned to weeping. Luna was blessing her in her start of this cold life that she could not accept. She cried for the bond they were just starting to form. She cried for her sister, whose blessing she would defy. Luna was showing the love that she had received. It was the source and her sister at the same time. How could the dear Princess not understand? The moon itself always reflected the light of the heavens. When it looked dark to those who watched from the ground, it was shining that light back into space to where it had come from. How could Celestia not reflect the love that was given to her? It was impossible. The coldness was gone. The white flame inside of her would not allow it to grip her another moment. There was an eruption of light around her and she tumbled into a dimension of swirling ether. Moonlight was the only thing on the grass behind the empty house. There was a gust of wind, and the back door slammed shut.
LongingChapter 46 She knew before she opened her eyes that she was not on the green by the country cottage. She hadn’t consciously decided to teleport, but she found herself in the basement of the library of the Royal Magic Academy’s research division. The books on dark magic had been removed; the shelves they had filled were empty. None missed their presence or their influence. Regular materials seemed insufficient to occupy their place of importance and grim awe, however. Something powerful was needed to dispel their haunting ideological residue and restore the balance of the library, but what? Celestia hadn’t meant to come here, but she did know why she was here. She effortlessly moved aside the heavy bookcase and summoned the back door of the Vault. She opened it with the spell and hesitated in front of the unlit passage. Any farther and it would be treason. No fear of consequences would be sufficient. She had already lived her happy ending and, to her mind, completed her life. Her only pause came from the thought of breaking her sister’s trust and separating them, but even this did not stop her. She had always believed that they could not be kept apart for a great time, just as the sun and moon can only part ways for so long. She had hated their condition when they were enemies, but since they were reconciled it was a great comfort. She could wait no longer and entered the forbidden door with solemn but unshakeable steps. The journey through the long black passage was as natural and inevitable as falling. The white alicorn strode heedlessly through the hallowed and vaunted relics, following in the flesh the route she had already traveled in her dreams. Finally she stood before the book that the library could not contain. Her heart pounded; it was so close, but she was suddenly uneasy. The inner gates of the Vault slid shut and locked into place with sturdy enchantments. Celestia tensed and awaited her fate. She felt a presence unmask itself and cross the chamber behind her. A shadow deeper than shadow stalked the wall in front of her as it slowly circled. Celestia knew what she could not see. The chamber was lit by the glow of a white crescent that now replaced the sun as the emblem of its keeper. The shadow figure stretched out of the dark side of the artificial moon. The menace, a spectral silhouette of Nightmare Moon, loomed over Celestia and waited for her to move. Celestia was aware of the desperate and ingrained patterns within herself: “It’s mine. I can take it. I can snatch it away and force my escape. I am powerful; who can stop me?” She breathed deeply and discarded the frantic thoughts. The last thing she wanted was to oppose her sister, tonight or ever again. To take what she wanted as a violent robber would only prove that she should not have it. The old ways had no place here; she was searching for more of what was new. Celestia bowed her head in acceptance. The source of the threatening shadow stepped out from behind the moon, but it was only Luna. She was not easily given to tears, but there was hurt in her voice as she spoke, “You should not have come here. What could turn you to this? I thought you were happy.” “I thought I would be happy,” Celestia replied. “I thought I could forget about him.” The Princess remembered all the friends she had lost and agreed, “It is difficult to forget those who have passed, but the past should not be allowed to ruin the future.” Luna spread her wings behind her and stretched to her full height, to look commandingly upon the intruder. Her royal voice echoed in the confined chamber, “As Premier of the Republic I must uphold the sentence passed by the tribunal. Authority in the new order is based on its rulings. You agreed to abide by its decision, and the Republic must enforce its laws. Come now, respect my decision. Leave this Vault and all its treasures and I will forget your rash impulse.” Celestia, still bowed, replied, “I can’t, Princess. If you have to, go ahead and punish me, but I have to read the book again.” She closed her eyes despondently and begged, “Lock me away with it forever, just let me read it.” “Forever is a long time,” she cautioned. “Longer than a thousand years,” she added, with a quiver. Luna’s mind was forced to distinguish between these superlatives. That distinction separated her from a life trapped inside herself, tormented by darkness; from raging at her own dust, and moaning in depression without end. Dropping to a normal tone, she said, “Sister, I could not do that to you.” She folded her wings and lowered her head to bring them face to face. She finally allowed a sorrowful expression and counseled, “You do not need it to remember him by. He will be remembered. A monument will be built, songs will be written, and historians will search. You have a whole life before you. He would want you to let him go and live it in freedom.” “You don’t know what he wants!” Celestia blurted defensively. “No one does! How can I owe him everything and not know him?” “What he wants?” Luna repeated doubtfully. They rose up to gaze at each other directly. Celestia knew then that her sister finally understood her; it was comforting and terrifying to be so vulnerable. “Oh sister, that is what you want?” Luna intimated. The great white mare nodded, and buried her face in the pastels of her mane. The Princess whispered to deal the blow less harshly, “Then we both know that you will not find what you are looking for. It cannot be. As one who loves you, I beg you not to waste yourself, where you will only find more grief.” Undulating hairs carried away Celestia’s tears and laid them on the floor. “I won’t accept that,” she nearly whimpered. Gathering her resolve she continued, “Whatever is true, I have to know everything. He poured himself into me, and I have to. Do you know what that’s like?” Luna pondered it. “I do,” she confessed. She turned away and took a step towards the resting Elements. “The Elements of Harmony are a part of me. But their work was completed, and I do not need to hold on to them.” “I don’t feel complete,” Celestia lamented. “If they were not finished with you, what would you do to see them again?” “I would do anything,” Luna admitted. “To be honest, I did feel something more. When you were reborn, I was finally at peace. The last trace of bitterness toward you left me; whatever was there was related to the Elements somehow, and I trust the Elements. Only I am afraid that I will lose that peace if I have to be lonely again.” Celestia followed her and comforted, “You will feel me every sunset. But don’t be lonely again, little sis. Let other ponies in. It is peacetime; you don’t need to be invincible anymore. Twilight and her friends at least will understand.” “If I let you do this,” Luna allowed the thought, “I cannot stop them from pursuing you, and if they catch you, they will have to—“ she choked. “They will have to punish you. To think of you in that awful trance…” She collected herself to continue, “Do not let that happen to us. Celestia, you cannot hurt any that pursue you! They will be good ponies.” She vowed stoically, “If you hurt them, I will have to hunt you myself.” “Of course,” Celestia appealed, “I couldn’t hurt them.” “I know,” Luna sobbed. That only made it worse. “That means you will have to leave all civilization to be where they cannot find you. You will have to be alone. Unless you can disguise yourself.” Celestia shook her head. “No, I never learned that, I was too vain. If you could live in the moon…” The Princess was torn apart between her love and her conscience. “No, you will not be alone,” Luna decided. “The night knows to hide as shadow in the daytime. The sun chases it, but it always finds a concealed place. I know how to disguise you, if you can bear it.” “Make me myself,” the alicorn responded simply. “Come, pay careful attention. I will only do this once,” the night magician instructed. They faced each other, and prepared to begin. “Thank you,” Celestia said softly. “I love you.” The two alicorns rested their foreheads together, letting their manes intertwine as they rippled. Luna pulled away and said gruffly, “Now stop it or we shall never be able to concentrate.” She took one long last look at her sister and closed her eyes. She summoned up her power and cast blue light onto the great body before her. The air silently split and shimmered as prismatic fragments of her image closed off Celestia from view. With mixed emotion, Luna looked again and beheld Dusk, the small grey pegasus. The little pony’s coat was not streaked with ash, and her eyes retained their magenta hue. The Princess turned away from the stranger, saying, “I should not have done that. Go. I hope you do find something.” Dusk grabbed the book and, with a glance back at her mismatched sister, departed down the dark passage.
DawnChapter 47 There was a white flash in the alley behind the fairgrounds in east Canterlot. An inconspicuous, drab pegasus crept around the side of a tent that housed a traveling magic show. Dusk nosed open the flap and looked inside. A blue unicorn sat by a candle watching for her and merely cocked an eyebrow when she arrived. “Small again?” “Sort of,” Dusk replied. “Are you sure you want to do this? You could be arrested just for letting me in.” “Trixie would do anything to have another chance to be the biggest show around,” the performer asserted, “If you can hold up your end of the deal, you’re in.” “Thanks for having me again,” Dusk said as she slipped in from the night. Trixie gestured to a cozy “room” formed by a couple of curtains, saying “It’s all yours.” The new stagehoof crossed the tent to her quarters. Trixie caught her before she could take to her private space. “All the bits, that’s what you said,” she reminded her partner with a sly smile. Dusk made a face as images of the Imperial mint spewing out its shiny rounds flooded her brain. “Bleagh,” she voiced her reaction. “I don’t need to see another one of those for a thousand years. Just remember, you said the great and benevolent Trixie.” Trixie rolled her eyes, and quipped, “Trixie guesses she really will do ANYTHING. Cheers.” She downed a celebratory shot of hard cider. Dusk laughed as she retired to her bedchamber. She self-consciously pulled the gap in the curtains tightly shut behind her. Dusk closed her eyes. Faint shimmers of dim light appeared around and above her. Drawing a deep breath, she stretched and grew up into the flickering outlines. Celestia’s outstretched wings brushed against the top of the tent. She folded them, lay down, and produced her prize. She rested the ancient book in front of her and paused to gaze at it. “All this for a good read,” she joked to herself. The gold emblem on the cover seemed to have regained some of its luster somehow. As she looked at the graven alicorn head, she could only wonder at him, the author. Who was he? Why would he do something like that for her, of all ponies? She had to find out. Maybe she would soon see his face as more than carvings and symbols. She quivered with illogical anticipation. Luna was right that she probably couldn’t have what she truly wanted. She would not accept that he was dead, but she feared she would only find denial in visions of his living past. After he had given her his life, such wonderful life, she could only wish to live it with him in whatever way she could. Books are generally read from the beginning. Instead she opened it to a point well past the middle and turned pages until she found one she recognized. It was the one they had found in the crystal cave at Ruhama. The curators of the Vault had returned it to its source, and observed that it fused back together on its own. Now it showed a simple sketch of the scene much as it was shown to her in the library, but with only the author standing on his death ground under the crystals. She did not let her gaze linger there; she did not wish to see that again. She flipped it over. The other side still held the image of herself, her eyes shutting out the dust of time as she waited forever for her mysterious rescuer. “If you want to see anything, you have to read before that,” she told herself. She didn’t. She wanted to read the next page. It was blank, of course. She stared into it deeply. She did not see or feel anything strange, but kept it under her determined gaze. She cast her heart toward it as if yearning could summon a response. After some time, she began to fear it had been for nothing. She lifted her hoof up off the parchment. It came up as well; it was stuck to her. She gasped as she realized she could no longer distinguish the white of her hoof from that of the paper. With wonder on her face she considered the situation. “Should I really do what I just thought?” she asked herself. She looked around at the dim tent and reassured herself that no one would see. “I am so going to,” she approved with a brave smile and readied herself. It did not take long; white fire beckoned. Celestia dove headfirst into the white. She felt a shock and a dizzying rush. She closed her eyes and panted as she plummeted through some flickering dimension that she could not navigate. Her hooves came to rest gently on the ground. As she trusted her legs again and stood firmly, she took in her surroundings. A garden with blossoming trees glowed an eerie hue under the red-purple light of an eclipse. Could this be a vision? She felt the earth and smelled pollen on the air. With alarm she realized she could not sense the sun or the strength that their connection brought her. Rooftops protruded over the flora and framed the unfamiliar sky. A row of tombstones with Tarpanaic etchings lay in the grass beside her. A low gate beckoned for her to enter another section of the cemetery. She took a cautious step out of the crater where she landed. She took another step and another, moving into a steady trot as if she knew where she was going. She accelerated eagerly. Rounding a hedge, she joined a cobbled path that led to an arched granite structure. The entry to the mausoleum was sealed and formidable guards stood watch. She paused as she surveyed the warriors that opposed her passage. A company of pegasi with swords or lances stood in a row across the path and hovered above the site. Beside the door two magicians in stately robes each maintained an orb of protective energy. Two manticores in glistening armor towered over the others as they leaned on their meteorite spears. She was not prepared to fight them if they would stand against her, but she felt she must move forward. She stepped towards them slowly. The manticores smelled her and growled, and advanced to the grounded pegasi, who tightened their formation. The pegasi above spread out and moved to both sides to encircle her. The two magicians stoically continued their arts. Celestia’s anxiety grew as she approached. She would have hailed them, but realized that she did not know their tongue. The warriors started to close in with a hostile bearing. The guards froze. Celestia paused, uncertain what had changed. There was some strange rattling sound. The hostile pegasi that whirled above abruptly broke away. She heard thuds and clangs—they had dropped their weapons! She realized now that the guards were shaking in their armor. The overwhelmed ponies collapsed. The manticores suddenly became like dumb brutes. They snarled, howled, and whined, tearing from their armor and bounding away out of sight. The threatening orbs of light were snuffed out, and the magicians fell forward. Celestia continued up the path, picking her way through the fallen soldiers and over a potent meteorite spear. She felt a growing awe, and not of herself. Finally she came to the solid door, which seemed as though it was not built to be opened. A great seal carved into the smooth face of the stone held runes that imbued it with layers of defensive spells. Some of the runes lit up against her, but she refrained from using her own magic against it. Disarming such a well-planned system would be treacherous and time-consuming. One of her hooves became hot with the energy of the spirit she carried. She lifted the hoof and held it gingerly an inch from the gate. The whole seal gleamed red at the threat. She touched it lightly. A flash split the stone and cast its pieces to either side. She recoiled from the explosion; but she had not been harmed. Celestia lit the octagonal chamber as she entered. A golden chest rested on a pedestal in the center. Above it loomed a forbidding statue of a manticore king. The stoic figure clutched the key tightly in its clawed marble fist. She wondered if the statue might be enchanted to defend its prize. The eclipse emblems on the key glowed and the metal resonated with a deep hum. It vibrated so strongly that it powdered the stone around it and soon it dropped to the floor. She levitated it into her grasp and inserted it into the keyhole without hesitation. The key went dark and silent as it freed the latch. She lifted the lid carefully and beheld the resplendent crown of seven points. She picked it up but was disappointed that it was dark and cold. She knew not what to do with it; she certainly could not wear it. She placed it on the floor and looked at it thoughtfully. It seemed empty but she felt that it should be full. Celestia breathed deeply and lowered her horn at it. She focused on that feeling of fresh life that had lingered inside her after she was reborn. The inlaid crystals began to glow. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the light in her chest. White flames climbed her horn. She willed it out of herself, heedless of the consequences. “I’ll give up all of my life if I have to,” she declared. But even as she felt it flow out of her, the spirit replenished itself in her heart, which beat faster and faster. A roaring blaze now lit up the chamber and pulled air in through the door. The flash of heat subsided to a gentle warmth with a gentle glow. She was done, but she still bowed. She bowed before her king. She realized she would eagerly become whatever he wished. A horn touched hers. The pleasurable exchange restored her own strength. She waited expectantly for what would come next, but was not expecting to hear hooves cross the stone beside her. She looked up and he was not there. She turned to see the flare as he teleported from the doorway. The broad golden portal remained open behind him. She could not sense where it led; it crossed layers of ether in a way she did not understand. She followed and teleported into it the best she could. It led her on another uncontrollable flight. She came to rest gently on a familiar hill. It was a cloudy night, her own night; she could feel the sun beneath the earth. Far to the north the spires and lights of Canterlot shimmered on the mountainside. At the top of the hill, the author who had rewritten her story waited, gleaming like bronze in a furnace. Above him the clouds parted to reveal a spiral of starry lights. She felt small under this galactic canopy. What was one star worth among a million? He seemed to value her greatly. Celestia was still uncharacteristically shy of meeting his gaze, looking down at the grass as she walked up the slope. How close was close enough? She yearned to press closer, but as his legs came into view she faltered, feeling unworthy. A strong hoof over her shoulders pulled her in. The acceptance drove out her fear, and she looked up into his face. The sight of his blue eyes glowing into hers overwhelmed her. They were wild and intense, but she finally understood the relentless compassion in that light. Celestia’s own eyes took him in until they were too full and she had to close them tightly. She rested her head on his chest. The delight! She gasped and gave a laugh, gasped again and sighed. He spread a powerful wing over her, despite the resistance her own limbs gave as they rose involuntarily. Would he find her crude? He understood her totally, and had loved her even in the depths from which he had raised her. Her position was totally compromised, which should have terrified her. He could use her or abuse her in any way, and she would not oppose him. But he cared for her more than she did. She lifted a hoof to stroke his skin, and was startled to feel something besides hair and muscle. There was an irregular line where flesh had torn and refused to heal. It was a scar. It was her scar. He held his little pony. She sobbed in his embrace. She had guarded herself her whole life, but she was safe here. She had known so much greed and hatred, but here she was loved selflessly. Everything was alright. Really, it did not matter what everything else did. She was completely satisfied just with this moment. She relaxed into him and enjoyed the peace he offered. The rhythm of his heart was pure music to her. Her heartbeat slowly changed pace until it matched his in blissful harmony. Too soon, it seemed, he pulled away. He must, though, or she would never have done anything else. “Why would that be so bad?” she wondered. His lips were just above her forehead as he inhaled deeply. He blew on her, into her. It seemed to her that she had been holding her breath her whole life. In truth, she was breathless, rapt in the moment; but she felt that she was breathing her first breath of free air. Full life filled her whole body as the flame inside her was rekindled to a mighty blaze. It rippled inside her skin and white sparks flowed out along her shimmering mane and tail. The sharp points of daylight soared weightlessly through the sky, carried by the wind that rushed from the top of the hill and out into the spread of the earth. The author left her side and took to the sky. Strong wings carried him through the atmosphere to the universe beyond. The whirlpool of worlds shone brighter to greet his return. He headed towards the core of the light, and his wake pulled the rift in the clouds shut behind him. She flew up after him and broke through the obscuring haze. Luna’s moon hung in place, unaware of what had occurred. She landed on the soft gray landscape and sat staring up at the dark void. Her heart sank. Why did he have to leave? After what she had felt, she could not bear to be alone; but she was not so alone with his life in her veins. He had not left her empty, but full. And if he had left a piece of himself inside her, he would surely return. “He could have left me a note,” she sighed. Her eyes lit up. “He left me a whole book!” She could not return to it as herself. With a prismatic flicker, she shrank to a small grey form. Keeping such wonderful secrets would cause her to burst—but that was a problem for tomorrow. She could not imagine calling herself “Dusk”; she had changed too much. She took wing towards the city and her traveling home. She rushed into ecstatic loops and laughed for joy. She was not trapped in the trailing end of a tragedy. She wasn’t settling into a domestic life to forget her past. She was starting a new adventure, and she would meet its challenges with life and hope. She had fallen, but now she was rising. Dawn settled down and soared smoothly and contentedly. She did not understand all that had happened—yet. “It isn’t so strange,” she thought. “After all, I used to own a phoenix.”
Dear TwilightDear Twilight Sparkle, Thanks again for saving my life and believing that I could really have a new life. I hope you are not hurt to hear that I am now apparently an outlaw. You’re not my student anymore, but as my friend I thought you deserved an explanation. What you have heard is true. I did take the book, but you probably aren’t surprised. You already knew that the book had taken me, and it will not let go. You of all ponies know something about destiny, and I could not bear to see mine locked away in the vault forever. It has already waited--it was meant to come to light now, not a thousand years from now or even next year. I didn’t do it for power, I did it for love. And the more I find out, the more I realize that this love is not only for me but for everypony. I’m not trying to pay you back, but there is something I want to tell you, to share what I hold most dear with you, because it is about your destiny as well. Some things you already know, and we spoke openly about it in courtrooms, castles and cathedrals. You were the first to figure it out when we found that page in the cave, that the author of it had already sacrificed himself for me. You understood that it was of harmony and love, and you trusted it. Even though you don’t know him, it was him more than me that you trusted. Since you already trust him I figure you’re ready to know him. I’m not talking about the past. He is alive. I know that sounds impossible. But he is more than you might have realized. You know that what we saw in the book actually happens, whether it is in the past or the future. He writes our history, our very lives. I could walk inside the book because the world is in the book. While I pretended to be a god because of the power that was given to me, he is the one who forms our world. All the stars are his, including the sun, including me. He is such a great king that to lay myself at his hooves is a greater honor than to sit on my own throne. You might wonder how, if we are both alive, it was a just substitution. I guess it is more complicated, but equally just. We both really died, and are really alive. He is like a phoenix. When we burned together, our ashes were mixed, and we were rekindled into one fire. There are not really two lives anymore, only one. He died for me and all I can do is live for him. I can’t live the life I lived before; I still remember the days of my evil, I am still me, but now that he is in me we are a new thing that has never been. I may seem ancient to your eyes, but I feel like a foal, as if I was born that day. But as I now understand, it was not just about me. Me and the alicorns you know of were born as ordinary unicorns, though royal. We were raised to become what we are now when Equestria was first formed. We were made to represent all of the races, so that we would never be as divided as we were when the world was almost destroyed by ice. Our powerful magic comes by the way we are tied to the spirits of the ponies we rule. He made himself into a form like mine, so that by giving my body and spirit new life, he could give new life to the spirits of all ponies. However, this is a very intimate thing, and he does not do it to the ponies who do not want it, or rather, don’t want him. That is why many of my former subjects no longer accept my heart. I have changed, but many of them did not wish to change. All along, he has given us a choice. But you know, you can sense, that this world is not like it should be. You can almost feel how things should have been, a bright world, living in love and harmony, where all ponies know they are loved by their creator and have a destiny of their own. It hurts to see what it has become, and hurts even more to remember how I contributed to that. We must have pushed him away so long and so far, but he still has not given up on us. I think you know by now that every pony here is truly a part of this darkened world. You and even your friends have gotten to know your dark sides. That is why we must be renewed with him so that we can live in harmony with him. The alternative makes me shudder. To be away from him is to be away from life and goodness, and to be with death and evil. But as you can see in me, no one is truly doomed unless they refuse the hope that is offered to them. I mourn for those who stumble like I used to, farther into the darkness that we’ve chosen for our world. Your friends aren’t your friends because they’re the best. They’re your friends because you know and love each other. It’s the same with him. Unfortunately for a long time I have taught that life is about doing more good than bad, and I often called good ‘bad’ and vice-versa. But it isn’t about that, it’s about knowing him. Of course, if you do know him, want him, follow him, who he is—characteristics like you find in the Elements of Harmony—it will begin to show in your life. You already trusted him and do know him, in a way. You’ve felt him when you use the Elements that he gave us to protect our world. You, like me, came to the place where you realized your own darkness, and I know you have been burdened by guilt for what you did to ponies while researching dark magic. You wanted what I wanted, forgiveness and life, and to be reconciled with harmony and your friends. You were forgiven that day, and I am confident that your spirit will one day live with him. I want you to know that it was because of his death that you are forgiven, just as it is for me. Since you accepted and trusted what little you have been shown of him, it is time that you knew him for who he is. Since you have been tormented by dark spirits, I am burdened to see you get to know a pure and loving spirit who will heal what they have broken. I don’t want you to wait until you die for your spirit go to him, when you could live right now knowing your destiny in person. Though his bodily form lives far away for now, his spirit is very close, and I think I’m realizing as I’m writing this that I’m thinking of you because he is. So… I guess I should introduce you. He is known by many names. He could be called creator, but now I also know him as my savior. He is the Author of Harmony, the Prince of Peace. Some have known him as Jesus, Isa, or Cha’tan. If you can find any syllables to express what you have seen of his heart, I think he would gladly answer to that. If you say yes to him, and tell him that you accept his gift and want to know him, I promise you that—no, he promises that his spirit will come to you. He will know if anyone calls for him. Although I know you don’t want to be known as associating with an outlaw like me, don’t be afraid to share what I have told you with your friends or even anypony at all. Even if you could read this to someone in another time and another world, it would be just as true for them as it is for us now. If your brother ever wakes up, he will need this. I am sorry that I could not wake him from his coma. He is not in a true coma, I have given him a way to wake up and to do so without any of the darkness that I put in him, although of course he still has his own dark side. He simply has so far decided not to wake up, because he is terrified to have it stripped away from him, afraid to live in light of harmony. When he does choose to wake up, I hope that you will show him the forgiveness and love that you have received. I never told you this, but I have thought for a long time that you have the capacity to be a princess one day, perhaps a much better one than I ever was. But I do not think that you belong to this dark world, to inherit power here. If you will be his princess, then perhaps one day you can be a princess of a better place… a new world. Sincerely, Celestia
Celestia's Descent (Intro)Chapter 1 / Intro Today, she felt something was wrong. She had never been so uneasy during the day. Whatever was wrong, she told herself, it was still the day, and the day is of course hers; so she would fix it. Princess Celestia’s mind smoldered with these thoughts as she sat at the top of the cathedral stage, still wearing a placid smile. There was no reason to let it be known that something was out of place. As the robed choirs on either side of the hall closed their chant, she approached the podium and spread her wings. She filled up the glowing image in the stained glass behind her as the sun dropped into the top of the westward window, just as it was meant to. The teleprompter above the camera still had not updated. Equestria would have to wait as she basked in her glory a few seconds longer than usual. In the face of the day’s foreboding, she had demanded that new policies would be enacted today, a week ahead of schedule. Finally the hastily prepared speech appeared on the monitor. “Greetings, my devoted citizens. I have blessed you with another day.” “You have, and we are grateful,” the choirs automatically proclaimed. “This day is a special blessing,” she said, noting idly that special blessings had become rather frequent. “I have heard your prayers, and I have granted them. Today, my Solar Empire, I shall make you stronger. The new laws I give you today will increase your ability to serve. This will bring new responsibility, and those who allow me to increase their faithfulness will surely be rewarded with an increase in my special protections upon them. Your service will increase the prosperity and security of the Empire, and hasten the day when I allow you to be used by me to draw into the Empire those who are unenlightened. Then you will never again fear the darkness, and my light will fill the whole earth.” The singers struck up a chorus of “It Will Be as You Say”. They continued untiring into “How Shall We Praise Thee,” singing “For what shall we praise thee? For thy power on the earth? For thy power in the heavens?” There was really no problem at all, she concluded, just another day of success: an epic win just for being Celestia. Right on an in-breath in the song and a second’s pause in the music, a single worshipper choked, “No—“ and collapsed out of the ranks and into the aisle, dead. All fell into a hush. The pony on the camera moved to turn it off, but Celestia sneakily swatted his hoof away with an almost imperceptible burst of magic. This was no way to end a live broadcast. The goddess rose vertically from the stage and, holding out her hooves, levitated the limp figure into her grasp. “My faithful worshiper, you have praised me until your passing,” she declared. As she rose towards the setting sun, her voice rose to a near-thunder. “For this I will gather your soul to myself to partake of my holy immortality!” With the last word, there was a great flash as she met the sun. She emerged in a dark and smoky facility in the industrial district on the windward side of the mountain from Canterlot. She perched on the rim of an unmonitored garbage smasher and dropped the warm body into it. The robes flowed behind the corpse as it plunged out of view and added a dull thud to the staccato soundscape of progress. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was master of life and death in her realm. She told herself that she was immortal, and she decided who would live and who would die—but she hadn’t decided the singer would die. Shrouded in gloom, the usually radiant Princess stretched out her breast with a hoof. She removed a slight magic distortion on her skin to reveal the scar left by a terrific gash. That wasn’t supposed to happen either; officially, it hadn’t. She took one last look into the compactor and remembered the singer’s final word. Did he utter, “No”, in fear of death, or had it been an answer to the verses of the choir? She hid the wound again and teleported to the reception hall in the palace, where she would customarily return after the sunset ceremonies. A goat in a suit awaited her and commented, “I didn’t know you gathered souls. That was a nice touch.” The Princess gave him a glare. His expression was unmoved but he changed the subject quickly. “There were a few details about the new policies that haven’t been addressed. When we increase the production demands on the cities they are sure to use their new powers of eminent domain to seize non-contributing business as intended. How can we appear benevolent when ponies are dispossessed, though?” he asked stroking his beaded beard. “Don’t be stupid. Who will pay attention to that?” she stated. “The monopolies will help quell discontent as they take over. And the middle class is too invested in the companies to watch out for each other.” “Still,” he alerted, “there might be demonstrations, and with how high the new demands are, city leaders might be frustrated enough to let some bad press loose. Some additional measures could be added to smooth things over.” “If we pretended to give the city governments what they needed, it would be their fault. When they use their powers to tap the economy, it will be the greed of certain mortal ponies staining the implementation of the immortal’s perfectly imparted law,” she concluded, with some satisfaction. She asked, on afterthought, “How do you say that, ‘give them fake money’?” “We could issue growth funds backed by Imperial vouchers,” he bleated out habitually. “I knew there was a reason I keep you around,” she patronized, “Why, it would take me a whole day to replace you.” As the sun set, she turned and departed unexpectedly. He had more to discuss, but it was unwise to harass her when she was not in the mood for matters of state. A feeling of unfulfillment snuck through the halls behind her as she retreated towards the pleasures of the inner palace. Seeing a jet-black colt in a black suit, she stopped to inquire, “What about Nightmare Moon? What is she doing?” Whatever was going on, it simply had to be her doing. The agent answered through thick sunshades, “Unknown. Her presence has not been detected on this side of the border.” That was not the answer she needed. “How did she react to the plague we encouraged in Cimareoon?” she demanded. “She has sent in NLR military medical corps to assist local hospitals with containment and treatment. There are unconfirmed reports that she is spreading a wellness spell over the area,” he answered dryly. “What?” she protested, “Medics? Wellness? Where is her retaliation?” “That is unknown, apart from increased screening at the border.” “She can’t keep this shit up forever!” she exclaimed vehemently. “I’ll break her in the end. She has to fight back at some point.” With that she resumed her determined march to solace. She would have to make one last appointment before she could be rid of pony presence. What was that in their eyes? She couldn’t stand it anymore. There was an emptiness forming within her chest. She tried talking herself out of it, then tried hating it. All the hatred she sent out slipped into an awful unfamiliar mist with no return. Her first reaction had been right, she concluded. This thing should be drowned with vices; when had that ever failed? She turned and entered a small dark room where two security guards monitored the palace grounds projected in gray on the wall in front of them from a faintly glowing crystal ball. They remained still and apparently focused on the image. She waved her greaved hoof over the crystal ball, which flickered in response and changed the display on the wall from the approaches to the palace grounds to back alleys and inner city slums on the south side of Canterlot. The guards did not react. The abject poverty of this quarter was the glorious capitol’s most obvious and best-kept secret, hidden from the upper classes by carefully directed roads, social barriers, and indifference. She scanned the rusting and crumbling, cramped landscape and watched those stragglers who had failed to reach the safety of their squalid dwellings before nightfall. A lone filly trotted down a poorly lit alley, dancing through debris instinctively in the low light. Her mane and tail were neatly arranged but very dirty from a day’s work. As she carried her small saddlebag she hung her head and looked into every shadow with fear as if she were in the Everfree forest. The young one’s slender body bounced and her hips swayed as she navigated the cracked street. No detail escaped the appraising mind of her observer. Celestia’s wings rose slightly without her command, and stiffened slightly at the base. She raised her hoof and almost spoke, but she hesitated. The filly peeked around a corner before taking the turn and disappearing out of sight. “Why did I let her get away?” the stalking ruler wondered. With a simple adjustment the orb could have continued to track the young one, but it remained untouched. Celestia had let her hope slip away too easily. It was not like her. The predatory glint returned to her eyes and she resumed, eager to set aside this uncharacteristic uncertainty. A young and handsome colt also picked his way through her city’s night. With only a cursory examination she pointed and said softly, “That one.” Without turning the guards nodded. The ruler turned to leave for her chambers and finally cut herself off from the frustrations and fears of this uncooperative world. As she slipped out of the security room back into the brightly lit hall, she noticed another well-dressed politician waiting for her. Did he know? Correction: what did she care? She assumed a rapid gait as she headed straight for the tall double-doors where she sought shelter. “Your majesty, there are urgent matters that—“ he started to say as she passed by quickly. He pursued but did not exert himself enough to catch her or she would have kicked him. Reaching her objective at last, she threw the great doors open, entered, and slammed them behind her. The fixtures in the chamber rattled and a picture fell off its hook and smashed on the floor. She studied it where it lay face down in its own broken glass. She knew it was a picture of herself, like most of them were. She left it there and moved through her private residence to the far end of a pointlessly long table. It wasn’t as if she had guests tonight. After a successful day’s rule she always had quite an appetite and was always greeted with a banquet of Equestria’s finest delicacies. She sat down and began to eat slowly. After a while she started to eat faster and faster, devouring arrangements of lilies and an unfamiliar stew greedily. She picked up an apple pie messily in her hoof, shoved half of it in her mouth, and swallowed without chewing. Suddenly she stopped and dropped it. She pushed it away from her and returned the crumbs and slimy residue on her hooves into the pie with her magic. She glanced over to the empty space on the wall where the portrait had hung. A shot of dope potion beckoned and it was soon emptied. The radiant alicorn stole into her bedchamber and extinguished the lights. She pulled supple sheets around herself and lay back, drifting away from the world into the chemical experience. After a while, however, the buzz and rush of hallucinogenic flight was joined by a piercing ring in her ears and splitting headache. The small spasms became more painful than pleasurable. After an hour of half-consciously refusing the fact, she admitted that she wasn’t enjoying it. When she willed away the effects of the potion, some of the unexpected side effects still lingered. Her head jerked up from the bed. She had not meant to fall asleep and she could not remember the content of her troubling dreams. It was still night but she could feel the morning coming. More than that she felt hungry, so hungry, but not for food. Celestia rose and considered the lights but decided, somewhat against her nature, to remain shrouded in the dark. She still wore her gold crown, necklace, and greaves, which had left pulsing indentations in her skin where she had slept on them. Indulging in stealth, she slipped quietly down the hall. She had learned how to deprive her hooffalls of sound when she wanted to. She approached an unremarkable side door, creeping with a malevolent smile as if cornering her prey. She sniffed under the door. Her tissues became flush with hot blood and her wings stiffened again. She willed the door open and let it give an artful creak while remaining silent herself. In the middle of the room, the handsome colt she had indicated earlier sat tied to a chair. He had been taken off the street, but since the proper preparations had been made, his mane was neatly arranged and he smelled sweet under his new suit. Dim red lights slowly turned on in response to the door opening. She salivated and her pupils dilated narrower in expectation. The colt turned his head to the door but only saw it close; the huge hunting figure had already melted into the shadow on the other wall, thrilled in her cruel foreplay. Some time later she emerged frustrated. She had not done as much to him as she expected. Her pupils remained small on her large eyes, refusing to adjust to the darkness. She blinked repeatedly, but it was not put off. To her bewilderment the hunger was still with her. With only a little while until the new day, she had merely to distract herself from these untoward sensations a bit longer. She headed towards the couch in front of the royal entertainment system but for some reason kept going past it until she was looking out the window of her tower. Close by in the center of the view stood another graceful tower. It was designed to house a second royal resident. Instead of being demolished it had been partially repurposed but still seemed unfulfilled. A window in the opposite tower contained nothing. As she strained her gaze at it, ancient memories floated out of that internal haze. A familiar blue face implanted itself from memory into the window. She blinked and sadly it was still empty. What was this insidious foolishness? It had to be tamed. Why should she care that her sister wasn’t there? A dash of private hate crossed her all-beautiful face and burned crimson across this encroaching mist. Luna! “I shouldn’t have signed that treaty! I should have crushed her!” she cried out to the empty halls. “I can raise the moon anyway! Who needs her alive!?” The arches and banisters echoed mockingly, “Who needs her alive!?” She gritted her teeth and choked back a reply. She growled and then moaned as her hatred moaned flatly within her. She didn’t want her sister, but she needed her. She needed Canterlot, she needed Equestria. Glaring, murmuring soldiers surrounded her mind. Their faded and torn battle colors issued a faltering pledge of loyalty to her. They advanced on broken legs through a windswept valley in her memory, madly twisting their faces in garish caricatures of their ill breeding. They had said they would die for her—was it theirs to say if she enjoyed it? A bugle player, shot through the throat, gurgled “Solar Victory”, as if to answer her idle query as to whether they were strong enough to take the fortifications across the river. She needed them back. Now. They toppled backwards away from her, finally releasing their pent-up blood. She sprang spasmodically across the marble floor as if to catch them. The vision dissipated and she screeched to a halt on the edges of her gold-clad hoofs. Throwing her side against the wall she pressed her head against the inside of an archway. Some ponies had disappeared for uttering such defamations in the street, but she couldn’t stop thinking these things. With eyes tightly shut, she pushed harder, as if to crush that stupid anguish. Now it was in her head and spreading throughout her body, which heaved and shuddered as if allergic to itself. Her ears rang with pressure as if her emptiness was finally imploding. A stone broke away under her strength so that she fell forward after it. She regained her hooves and glanced this way and that down a side hall and towards the locked door, which still kept its peace. She reared up on her hind legs and brandished her hooves to face some phantasmagorical attacker, but none came. In a show of strength, royal hooves slammed down into the stone, sending crunched bits skittering across the gilded chamber. She picked up a hoof to admire her hoofwork. Rough circles were impressed into the stone which was puny beneath her; it was just as easy as smashing an unsatisfying filly’s ass. “How’s that for a cutie mark?” the milky apparition of herself in the polished floor seemed to say, and smirked. “Why, it was downright poetic, a vague suggestion of infinity filling with the blood of a being who would rejoin the infinite within moments,” continued the suave self-spectre. Splitting pain tore through her chest and played in and out of her gasping heart. She chased the pieces from the floor back into place with desperate swipes. They refused to align and to cover up the blight. With her magic she switched them, turned them over and jammed them into the hole repeatedly, but the damage could not be undone. She nervously cast her gaze over her maned shoulder, ashamed to be seen despite her splendor. No one remained nearby to investigate the commotion, even if they dared. She could stand no more of this. Whoever had sent these tormenting spirits would be sorely disappointed. Who cares? Everypony else could, but not the great Celestia. She didn’t give more than a fuck for fillies, or soldiers or cities. “Celestia is better than everything else,” she screamed in her mind, gritting her teeth. “Celestia is all.” Perhaps she would remember her pride if she raised the sun. It was earlier than usual, but why put up with any more of that awful moon? It was hers to bring the dawn. Hers, only, to give life to this world, so didn’t she have the right to take it away? They should all be grateful. But they weren’t and she wasn’t. She wanted more and she wanted to throw it all away. The windowed doors to the balcony flung open at her approach. She was greeted with mournful wails and haunting strains from Octavia’s window somewhere below. “That’s not what you’re supposed to play,” she thought, “when I raise the glorious sun!” She planted herself firmly and reached out desperately with all her power. The darkness rolled back like a flood. The sun exploded over the horizon, pouring orange light upon the eastern faces of the city below. Mountains, plains, and civilizations awakened with a start at her will. Still the dirge rose louder and more desolate. The air grew heavier around her as if the haunting presence was unimpressed with her display. To her the sun was an extension of her glorious self, but now she remembered it had been there before her and was given to her. The light rushed to her and the balcony gleamed. She felt something terrible in it, but could not look away. No use! It was worse out here. She strained to hold on to her mind, but that scraping emptiness consumed more and more. All the power, the vices were lacking, and floating away. Her pupils shrank further to tiny specks as the conceit, hatred, and lust stretched out over nothing. The pain grew and told her of her shame, her loneliness. She could feel her evil deeds boiling riotously in her veins. A huge, piercing beam was now between her and the sun. Her horn glowed with heat instead of magic and the mark of the sun seethed on her flank. The music struck harmony with the gnawing within and the scalding without. Her pupils, her windows to the world, were now like pinpricks on the vacuous expanse of her eyes as they were pulled down to what little was left inside. She screamed aloud as the totality of her afflictions burst into the physical world. The ill-fitting beauty of the tyrant-Princess lapsed into disease and accuracy. She threw open her wings, which dripped feathers like rain around her. The strains of the violin rose, now shrill and wrathful, the sun steamed on her hide, and her scream attempted to tear its way out of every part of her body. Her features stretched as skin became like melting porcelain. It disgorged itself in viscous globs and splattered on the stone, sizzling louder and merging its noise to her continuing scream. The magnificent mane bleached and fell out or sank into the slime. Her flesh, black under the white veneer, reeked of death and excrement as it rolled off of her. Her horn disintegrated into something like rust and soon was no more. Her cry fell as her throat clogged with the dead matter, and the sun crashed back into the horizon as the balcony dripped and sizzled in the darkness. Author's Note http://celestial-swordsman.deviantart.com/gallery/#/art/FALL-385024295?_sid=7a4a661b Alternate cover
BubblesChapter 6 Ditzy Doo returned after a frantic shift. Some mail was misdelivered in the chaotic influx and stubborn darkness, but at times like these ponies should be happy the postal service ran at all. Ditzy undid her saddle bag on the porch and stepped inside. To her surprise the light was on, and Dusk was nervously wiping up a mess on the kitchen side of the room. “Uh, hello?” she said, unsure how to react. “Oh, hey, you’re back!” Dusk exclaimed, turning her head to look at Ditzy halfway. Dusk leaned down and pulled a pan out of the oven. “I made some muffins for you! The first ones were really burnt, though, so I ate them,” she said with a sheepish smile. “Turns out I don’t mind burnt stuff, weird, huh?” Ditzy’s jaw dropped and her mail bag flopped to the floor. “You made MUFFINS?!” she squealed. “How did you know?” “Well,” Dusk replied, “it’s practically the only recipe you have. I’m really sorry about the whole… fruit thing, I guess I’m really sensitive about some things.” Ditzy flew across the room and hugged a very startled Dusk. “Ohthankyou, Dusk! Muffins are my favorite!” Dusk didn’t know how to take the gesture. “Um, you’re welcome, Ditzy. I just thought it was the least I could do after you took me in and everything and I was such an as…, a f…, a bi…,” Dusk fumbled apologetically through her blacklisted vocabulary, “a bad pony.” “Aw, it’s okay,” the blonde assured. “Please, call me Derpy Hooves.” “Score,” Dusk thought. It felt good to be in the inner circle, but she really shouldn’t be. Was Derpy a little shallow? Muffins can take her from betrayal to BFF? Well, actually, it didn’t look that bad from Derpy’s perspective. All she knew about was the bananas, not the nocturnal creepiness or the hater graffiti. It wouldn’t do any good to bring that up. Derpy took a warm muffin, held it up, and took a big sniff. Her lazy eye slowly settled into rare alignment on the treasured pastry. She took a bite and savored it. “Mmm, nom, nom, it’s so good!” Derpy was in total bliss with every bite. Dusk was happy just to watch her be happy. She finished cleaning up while Miss Hooves enjoyed every single muffin. But when Dusk was done, there was one left standing in the muffin pan in front of the blond Pegasus. Derpy seemed lost in thought. “It’s okay, you don’t have to save one for me, I already had the burnt ones, remember?” Dusk insisted, but by the time she finished she knew that wasn’t it. A solitary tear fell into a muffin cup. Derpy set the tray down and picked up the last muffin gingerly. She studied it longingly, obviously no longer looking at a pastry. Dusk followed her as she walked out onto the porch. Derpy turned the corner onto the edge of the house facing north. She scooped out a hoof-sized dollop of cloud and placed the muffin on it. Sitting and holding the cloud muffin in both hooves, she said softly, “This one’s for you, Dinky.” A gentle push sent it drifting away into the shadowy sky. They watched it wordlessly until it was out of sight. Dusk didn’t want to intrude but she had to ask, “Who’s Dinky?” “Oh, I didn’t tell you?” Derpy realized out loud. “She’s my filly. I love that little Dinky Doo.” “What happened to her?” Dusk had to know. “She’s okay,” Derpy said with a little relief. “She’s staying with my cousin till I can get back on my hooves. I didn’t want to move here but this was the only place I could get a job. I didn’t want to weigh down my cousin any more. He’s not too well-off either. I was supposed make us a home and then have Dinky brought up here. That was two months ago. Now, with the economy and everything, I can’t pay the bills. I need a raise, but my boss is always mad at me. It looks like I derped up again. I miss my Dinky.” They went back inside. This time Dusk noticed a picture of Derpy holding a tiny gray-and-blond unicorn with a googly smile. Dusk looked at herself in the mirror. Derpy chimed lyrically, “Time to tuck you in for bed.” Dusk wasn’t afraid tonight, but she let Derpy wrap her up tight in a cloud again. She could see in Derpy’s smile that the sweet pegasus took pleasure in mothering. Dusk, a pitiful and helpless gray pegasus, had appeared while the lonely mail carrier was wishing for her little gray filly. Derpy circled her blue bed puff before settling down. Before she laid her head, she noticed that her adopted house guest was staring sadly out the door. “What’s wrong?” she asked. Dusk didn’t turn from the horizon, but answered, “I just can’t believe the sun won’t come up. We’ll be in darkness forever. Till we’re gone, anyway.” The resilient Derpy Hooves remarked, “I’m surprised we have as much sunlight as we do. This way it won’t get much too cold. We have light enough to see and dark enough to sleep. I think the sun would fall all the way if no one was holding it up, you know. That means someone is helping, someone cares about us. That means there’s still hope.” Dusk was surprised that underneath her silly exterior Derpy was so perceptive. Who was holding the sun? There was only one answer. The moon had been full and floating in the middle of the sky the whole time. Now she was impressed with another pony. “Luna, you would do that?” she thought. Didn’t the night Princess want endless darkness? Now she must be breaking all the laws of the heavens to hold her moon up and keep the sun from disappearing completely. She was holding out as much light as she could as long as she could to help her ponies and her world. Even now she must be straining herself to hold on to the massive sun while Solar forces marched to kill her. Dusk was finally learning to pick her heroes. “Good night, Duskie.” Duskie? Oh well. “Good night, Derpy.” After hours of deep sleep, a small wet impact on her nose woke Dusk. She opened her big black eyes but saw nothing. A few seconds later an indistinct and unreal shape glided out the door. Small dots of light appeared as it departed out into the air beyond. There was a low breath and a flutter behind her, but she remained motionless. Another shape moved into view. It was more outline than object, a round distortion in reality. “Oh,” Dusk thought, breaking the suspense. “It’s a bubble.” The bubble rose, almost hit the doorframe, but with a quick dip and a bob it was out of view. It was soon replaced by a slower bubble that floated straight out the middle of the door and hovered in the light outside. The city cast neon specks onto it from below and the moon reflected off the top. Its shimmering surface spun, rolling ethereal waves over the reflected panorama. The green and pink ripples flowed over the globe and broke into eddies and whorls. Her huge eyes took in every ray of light. She followed a green wave out onto the bubble’s horizon, where it refracted into the sky. As if in a trance she was immediately aware of the spinning of the heavens. The tiny, drab city was a speck in a velvety surface of translucent green as the wave blew from pole to pole of the microscopic world, flowing through time and space from Derpy to Dinky, to Luna, and back over the world to herself. Half-real, it drifted from one pony who cared to the other like a thin ray of foolish hope as it traversed an ornate tapestry creased by distance, time, and unstoppable events which held them apart. Dusk gasped. The unexpected gust sent the fragile microcosm crashing into the porch. It lay there limp, its ripples bouncing insignificantly off the surface of the cloud until it finally burst. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Derpy said noticing Dusk’s extreme reaction. “Are my”—she tilted her head and rolled her eyes around in confusion—“bubbles bothering you?” “No!” Dusk glanced at her and stammered, “More, I need more—“and spun her head back to the door and stared out, straining her huge eyes expectantly. Miss Hooves, pleased with the impact of her playful masterpiece let out a pleasant “Okay, here we go.” With a dip and a puff of the bubble blower, the translucent orbs poured out once again over the dim stars on the hazy sky. Now that she had an audience she was putting on a real show. Three bubbles, four bubbles, ten bubbles made a procession out the door. As long as Dusk respired very calmly, not a one fell on the cloud or strayed into the rest of the apartment. With a quick twitch of her wingtips or odd little huffs, Derpy seemed to have some influence on their flight. Scores of bubbles swirled by in erratic patterns. Next a solitary bubble swung lazily just above the floor before hitting some updraft near the doorway. Another bubble that Dusk hadn’t seen descended and met it in midair. The two flattened against each other as they exited together. Was that supposed to happen? It happened again. Dusk looked in shock at Derpy, who was concentrating heavily on her freshly-dipped bubble loop. She blew once to make two bubbles, and again to make a large one. She lit up with joy and wonder as her little creations went forth. Her eyes spun with the twirling spheres as they dipped and bobbed past Dusk. The two bubbles lightly touched and fused near the top of the door and fell down onto the larger orb, which sank under the weight and fell off the edge of the cloud. Derpy readied herself again and blew. As two more bubbles emerged her “derpy” eyes swirled, she tilted her head, and with a calculated breath of her nostrils sent one tiny balloon shooting right past the other. The second was pulled into its wake and as they slowed down they orbited each other an inch apart. They danced around each other, and Dusk held her breath as they did loops over her head before following all the others out into the dim of the evening. Realizing a sudden craving, Dusk asked, “How high can they go?” “Let’s see!” Derpy asked. It had been awhile since anyone was interested. She used extra soap to make a huge, relatively solid bubble. Dusk got up to follow it outside. The orb floated up and she watched it hopefully. However, in the open air it was beyond Derpy’s influence. To Dusk’s disappointment it was intercepted by another cloud home. Seeing her sudden dejection, Derpy knew what had happened. Without being asked, the bubble master launched a second glistening bubble. It got much higher but popped too soon. A third lofted up straight and true. Rising above the cloud homes, the mountain and the world, it shrank out of view. A continued stare paid off; it reappeared as it struck sunlight, reflecting a tiny glimpse of the sun itself. This is what Dusk had been waiting for. Real sunlight had always brought her joy. This time, however, that one glint of pure white light burned into her eyes and sent a painful prick down her spine. She yelped and jumped back. “Are you okay? Do I need to stop?” Derpy said, confused but concerned. “No,” Dusk said, lowering herself back into her cloud blanket, “don’t stop.” Derpy didn’t need to be told twice and continued her show, but now with smaller and more sensitive bubbles to avoid any incidents. Derpy’s twisted vision somehow allowed her to see the random, twisting movements before they happened. To her, it was as if they moved in straight lines. Dusk knew the feeling. The happenings of the bubble world played out with cause and effect that controlled the uncontrollable, seemed to defy belief but were still there. Random acts hid patterns, and each bubble was sent out with the purpose to achieve objectives of which it was unaware. It was just like the real world that way. Dusk had made her own chain reactions, which floated out one after the other out of sight to reach their goals. Hers had never been as beautiful or innocent as Derpy’s. They had been more important, but not better. Watching the carefree, unimportant, beautiful display, she concluded that Derpy’s were on another level far beyond hers. Why had she done so many things to cause so much pain? She sighed. “I wish I could undo a lot of my life. It’s like a bubble, though: you can send it out but you can’t take it back.” Derpy paused but said nothing. She sighed as well, blowing out one mournful bubble. It drifted toward the exit to be forever lost. She raised up her hind end and spread her wings out very slowly and carefully. With her chest still on the bed and her front hooves bracing her against the bed, she looked like a playful puppy. As the orb slipped through the doorframe, she jerked her wings back against her sides, pulling the air past her. The bubble tumbled back into the room and nearly collided with the ceiling. It was now a full-body exercise as Derpy twitched her tail artfully, flapped a stray wing, and took odd breaths through pursed lips. The bubble circled about and wandered by the oven before gently hovering in front of Derpy Hooves. The pony held out her bubble-blower and the bubble obediently landed on its source. She brought it to her mouth and breathed in gently. It collapsed back onto the soapy loop without popping. “What was that?” Dusk said with disbelief. Derpy grinned. “I just took back a bubble. There’s always hope for a bubble until it pops.” They went back to sleep, but Dusk knew the morning would not be the same. It would not be safe or easy, but that didn’t matter now. You can take a bubble back.
The Goddess ReturnsChapter 18 The Goddess Returns Dusk stood as if posed in the center of the offering pool. With the blood added, the glassy surface now washed over her hooves. Twilight occupied the small platform by the edge and was engrossed in a spell book on the podium in front of her. She read by candlelight; shadow was more conducive to the strange and sometimes sinister mysticisms referred to collectively as dark magic. The General stood beside the enchanter’s dais and stared at the subject. He was so quiet that Twilight would think he was asleep if she didn’t understand his fixation. He usually slept standing, because he could not comfortably lie down in his armor. When he awoke, he would often curse Luna for his dark dreams. “Is it ready?” he asked. She broke her fixation with the text, where she had been absorbed in repeated recalculations and a last review. “Well, yes, but I don’t know if it will work,” Twilight cautioned. “I’ve never tried anything like this before.” Spike, still impressed with the general, boasted, “Well, I’m sure! Me and Twi make the best team in all Equestria! If there’s anypony who can cast this spell right, it’s Twilight Sparkle.” She shot him glare; she had told him to stop trying to impress her brother. Still weighing her doubts, Twilight stalled, “Are you sure we should do this? It’s such a drastic spell, and she’s very weak. She might not even survive.” Dusk knew what General Armor would say. If she couldn’t be everything he needed, he would rather she was dead. He was ruthless that way. She had made sure of it. The deranged mind and insidiously corrupt power that had made him what he was could not be allowed to walk the earth again. The thought of becoming all of that again was unbearable. A cold armored hoof lifted her face into a colder stare and she forced a firm look past her desperation. “If our dear Celestia is in there, she’s unstoppable, unkillable,” he declared with reverence. He had tried once. During one of their evening encounters, she had pushed him too far. He attacked her madly, stabbing her with his horn. The struggle was over in seconds; he was no match for her magic. Had the wound been deeper, the outcome could have been different. Any who threatened her must die, but she spared him. Her vanity told her that he was still under her control. If she had made a mistake, she would fix it: he was too close to completion. If she called for assistance or sought her own healing in that moment he would indeed be ruined. She was bleeding, but she showed no pain or concern. Instead, she lay on him where he was immobilized, speaking sweetly to him and torturing him slowly. It was creative and methodical. She only paused to staunch the flow from her breast when she was sure he was distracted with his own torment. Her blood mixed with his as they were pressed spitefully together. Through the hate and pain, she found the experience strangely intimate and intoxicating. By the magical bonding of unicorns, she shared her demented soul. It was the only way she could reproduce herself. She never allowed her womb to bear any offspring who would consider themselves heirs to her throne. Thus that night passed, and by morning, General had regained his superstitious awe of her immortality. Now he searched with his eyes for that scar. The ever-pristine goddess had disguised it well to her subjects, but if you knew where to look… Dusk realized she hadn’t checked. Was it there? All those awful memories seemed like a dream, and she liked to mentally separate herself from Celestia. He looked hard, and grew suspicious. “Maybe I really am a different pony,” she thought. Suddenly his eyes widened and lit up with satisfaction above his wicked smile. She wilted inside. Same scars, same pony. He had wounded her, years ago, in her very real past. I made up Dusk in the prison. I’m Celestia. I’m the monster. A tear pushed past the spell Trixie had cast on her eyes. The General cut his eyes towards Doctor Sparkle, quickly hiding his satisfaction to conceal his twisted past. “She’ll survive,” he concluded. “This is no way for her to live anyway.” “Anything to raise the sun, right?” Twilight said before reading the opening verses of the incantation in the book. She cleaned out her mind, lowered her horn, and began to send out her light to do its work. Dusk’s mind raced as the offering pool began to bubble about her legs. If this spell worked, she would again be flooded with the desire and power to rule, abuse, and hurt ponies like Derpy and Trixie. That couldn’t happen. A ceremonial dagger hung on the end of one of the new bookcases for dark magic. Maybe her horn had grown back enough to let her draw the knife to herself. “If I feel like I’m really changing back,” she thought, “I can just pull it here to my throat and--” she shuddered. She was afraid of dying. Being “restored” also seemed like dying. “Here’s hoping for a fail,” was her only grasp for survival. The black water turned warm around her hooves. Was it just the bubbles, and the way the pink light shimmered in the churning water, or was something moving in there? Whoa, don’t freak out. None of the stuff on the edge is getting used up, so it hasn’t really started yet. Don’t kill yourself over nothing. She tried to stay alert and ready to react, feeling the hilt of the knife with her mind. The spell’s opening completed, Twilight moved to the propagation phase with intense concentration. Her magic light shone brighter towards the subject. Dusk squinted into the glaring beam until all she could see was white. She tried to move her body or her mind but found herself transfixed. It’s too late! The thorns on the roses tore off forcefully and fell into the pool of their own accord. The floor and bookcases began to rattle. The unicorns and dragon coughed as dust and cobwebs took flight from every corner of the library and settled into the water. Twilight stammered, without dropping her concentration on the magic process, “Something’s wrong! Spell… so hard… to control!” Spike added, “I’m no expert, but shouldn’t it be using the stuff we gathered?” “No, nothing’s wrong,” the older brother stated cryptically. “It’s so right, it’s so… Celestia. Keep going!” Twilight shot a quick glance at him. “Who is the expert here?” she privately objected. Despite her misgivings, she did keep going. Nails pulled backwards out of wooden floors and bookcases before scraping and clattering over the edge of the pool. A stone slab from the ceiling was pulled into the water, burst into pieces, and dissolved. The oil from the lamps, various metal objects including the dagger, and a few select books joined the undirected brew. The unwanted items shoved their way through fruits, tore the silks, and scattered the flour and incense. Various items slipped into the mixture unidentified. Sensing a tug, the armored disciple braced himself against the floor and backed away. Dusk could no longer perceive the outside world, but was lost in a strange fog of feelings and thoughts: Shit, this better be a dream. I guess I’m dead. Well, maybe not. I may be the same pony, but I’ve changed, right? If the spell doesn’t take away the memories of the last week, I’ll still be sort of me. Still, it sort of sucks to be Dusk anyway. Uh, I would rather be myself than some other psycho pony. But I sure would appreciate it if I wasn’t so stupid weak. Again, under the circumstances, that hardly seems important. Well I can’t wait to not be ugly. Ugly, sick, and small. Who doesn’t have a cutie mark anyway? There’s nothing good about being me. Ugh, I’m such a mistake I make myself cry. Um, hello? I’d still like to live. I’m not ready to die, and I think I’m better than Celestia in some weird ways I can’t quite put into words. This is way too conversational, what is up with that? Am I sure I don’t want to rule again? Life was so much better in the palace. The world loved me, and treated me like I was important. Not like trash. Dusk is trash. I’m not trash, motherfucker! Great, now I’m insulting myself. I’m finally losing it. I had way more fun when I was a goddess. What would you do for some dope, you little addict? You had plenty of it. And plenty of power and sex. Because I wasn’t such an ugly little bitch I couldn’t get laid. Hey! The world didn’t love me anyway. I never even knew what it was. Derpy loved me, picked me up out of nothing and made me feel special. She cared about me for who I was and not cause she had to. And Trixie? She almost died for me, with no expectations or even me asking. That’s better than anything I had as Celestia. Celestia burned those old reports on friendship cause she couldn’t stand that somepony else had something that she couldn’t. Stop acting like you care so much about other ponies, when did that start? Remember how much fun it is to make some pony so scared and powerless? They have to act like they love you when they hate you so much, isn’t it funny? Remember how exhilarating it is to have so much control that you pin them down and do whatever you want with them, and they have to smile? No! I don’t feel that way any more! That’s not me, who said that?! “I did.” OH SHIT. The enchanted broth turned to an opaque white around the paralyzed alicorn. The glossy substance began to ooze up her right legs, clutching and enveloping. Who are you? I faced your temptations and I still want to be me. That means I passed the test, right? So you can’t do anything to me. Get out of my mind, now, or I’m gonna kick you out. “I don’t think so. Cute to see you angry though. This is going to be more fun than I thought.” Dusk felt searing pain and then numbness as the mysterious mixture crawled up her. A stream of the warm, writhing thing flowed up her neck and began pooling on the right side of her face. “Stupid filly, you can’t kick me out of your mind because it’s MY mind. Of course you know who I am. I’m you. I’m Celestia.” No, you’re not me. You can’t be. “Very well, you’re totally right. I am a goddess. All bow to me as I control the sun and the moon. The heavens bend to my will, and in a short while, all Equestria will realize that it is mine. You— you’re nothing. You’re pathetic, lost, and desperate without me. But I don’t need you at all. What good are you?” I’m not nothing, I’m a pony. I’m a mare, an important mare, and I’m going to stop your war and put things back together. It’s still my body, so I’ll use my magic and dispel you! “You’re a bitch. Now relax and let me put you back together.” Now the slime was advancing up her left legs too. The white collected as flesh across Dusk’s side and took hold of her wing. The wing held itself up as it grew full and powerful and stretched out great gleaming feathers, putting her other tattered wing to shame with its magnificence. Green, blue, and pink fibers squirmed out of her neck, pushing out clumps of her drab mane. Celestia’s features grew over the right side of Dusk’s face; the deity’s massive half-formed face bulged around the grey head. Coming into control of itself, Celestia’s eye strained to look down at Dusk, who cringed away from “herself”. “I’ll put you back together. Ah, of course, your heart is on the other side, so it will be a bit longer. Mmm, now I control our breathing, isn’t that interesting? Ha, even better, now I have control of THAT. Do you feel that? Do you like it?” NO! “I wonder if you can feel anything anymore. I bet you don’t even know how much you’re crying. Come, come, I’ll make it all better. You are mine now, isn’t that wonderful? You won’t have to hurt ever again, my little pony.” I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me! I don’t want to die! “I knew you could beg. I could keep a little of you in my subconscious for when I’m bored. Do you want to live forever? I might keep you around if you beg some more.” Dusk screamed as hard as she could, but little made it out into the world. Celestia realized the Dusk side of their body was collapsing and steadied herself until those legs became white, enveloped, and hers. She grinned greedily as she consumed more and more, slowly closing around what remained of the weaker identity. She twisted their head and pushed Dusk’s face down towards the rest of her fading self. As she spoke, she moved Dusk’s jaw as well, and seemed to gobble up the pony as her grinning mouth opened and closed. Unbeknownst to the hybrid thing, Celestia had for some time been so dominant that she was speaking her thoughts aloud. Twilight stared in confusion and revulsion at her teacher’s predatory progress. “You’re mine now, you pathetic thing. You’re mine, but I don’t even want you.” When it wasn’t carried away by Celestia’s movement, Dusk’s mouth gaped in pain and horror. “Cheer up, I’m the best thing that ever happened to you. Smile, bitch.” The swollen pale tongue licked its drooling lips before pushing up on Dusk’s cheek to force her to match her partner’s deranged expression. Celestia’s eyes dilated in ecstasy. “Smile and die, bitch!” She suddenly became aware of the outside world and the others staring. The huge malevolent eye moved from Twilight to the General, who joined her in twisted satisfaction. “Hello. I’m back,” she said smugly. Twilight pulled herself away in shock, furrowed her brow angrily, and shot back, “Not yet, you aren’t.” She turned her head and magic attention to the cloudy red gem she had concealed. She flung it towards her brother and made it explode before he could react, sending out sparkling powder. He reared back angrily and froze, stunned by the enchanted dust. “You little traitor, you think you can face ME?” challenged most of Empress Celestia. Doctor Sparkle said sternly, “Smile and die, bitch.” She put all of her strength back into the spell and the pages of the spell book turned backwards. She groaned heavily as she struggled to bring it back under control. Her pink light shot out in a concentrated beam that blasted liquefying white flesh backwards. The goddess gave a final scream as she bubbled and peeled back off of Dusk’s flesh as if blown away by a gust of wind. White matter splattered greasily over floor, walls, and rare literature. With no one to hold her, Dusk pitched face down into the remnant of the fluid in the offering pool. Twilight gasped and staggered. Spike, thoroughly confused, shouted, “What are you doing!?” The exhausted magician stumbled hastily to her patient and pulled her face out of the noxious fluid. “Are you alive?” she asked, putting her hoof on Dusk’s neck. Feeling a pulse, she turned to her dumbfounded assistant and put forth, “Spike, if you trust me at all, help me resuscitate her right away. I must get out of here quickly.”
Far Side of the MoonChapter 29: Far Side of the Moon Princess Luna and her army returned to their previous encampment. On the way, the astronomically necessary alicorn traveled in a gilded silver carriage; she could exert herself to keep the sun near the horizon at the same time that she was walking or talking, but not both. Her loyal magicians kept pace with her and assisted; they could not reach the sun, but they could impart some of their energy and concentration to her. Applejack told Luna how Twilight, Rainbow Dash, Rarity and Fluttershy had come to them. Luna was interested to note that the six of them were together again. Applejack did not, however, mention Celestia. All she said of the bizarre little pegasus was that Twilight thought she held the key to raising the sun. She hated the feeling of not telling the whole truth, but she didn’t know how to say it to Luna. Each time the major came close to revealing her theory, she stumbled over the apparent absurdity of it and second-guessed her reasoning. Luna told her the details about the destruction of Ponyville and reassured her that it had indeed been evacuated. Then Luna departed her side with the intention of arriving in camp well ahead of the main force. She felt awful that she hadn’t been able to prepare the Princess for what she would soon face. It was uncharacteristic Premier to leave her soldiers without explanation. Troops wondered what was going on as true night fell. For a while, the full moon hung reassuringly in the middle of the sky, but then it too began a slow descent. Reaching the camp, Applejack immediately found Luna’s tent. The guards outside told her to wait. “The Premier is not to be disturbed,” they insisted. Time passed, and other officers and messengers joined the major. The guards began to sense they were obeying their orders to the point of foolishness; the Princess had not said she was indisposed for a great deal of time, and the pressure of things that needed her attention was building. Even so, no pony would be the first to enter; they loved Luna, but she was an angel of darkness to be feared and respected. Finally Applejack felt that her errand was too important to wait; she took off her hat and entered the tent alone. There were two chambers to the place; the outer room was laid out as a war room. Maps with scattered formation markers were spread over tables. A long distance radio sat in one corner; on the other side was an area for assisting magicians to wait on her, complete with high-end spell books and potions. The freckled pony cautiously advanced through the space to the curtain-door of the inner chamber. She looked up to see the magical warrior’s armor hanging as if it was itself on watch. It was one articulated piece, giving it the appearance of a sinister silver skeleton. Applejack noticed a small dent on its slick surface, and wondered if anyone else had seen it. “Princess Luna?” she said, but received no reply. She pulled the curtain aside just enough to see. She was not prepared for the sight. The noble alicorn was sprawled across her bed in an undignified posture. She snuggled with a misshapen dragon doll and the old abacus, and snored softly. The Princess seemed smaller now. The edge of a warm wool blanket lay haphazardly over her side, with her flank poking out awkwardly. No longer framed as geopolitical heraldry, the dark sky of her cutie mark blotched playfully across her rump and chest. Her mane and tail lay still as they rarely did these days; they were a lighter blue than the skin they pooled around and scarce a twinkling star was to be seen. Her face had released the tension that usually held it firm, but her tightly shut eyes kept a sense of concern. Her expression was wistful. It seemed to Applejack that the Princess had been abducted and replaced with something… vulnerable… and cute. It was no surprise that Luna’s private apartment was royally furnished, but Applejack did not expect its character. Rich tapestries formed a wall of cool tones around the bedroom. Depicted in excellent quality were innocuous and youthful nighttime scenes. Several showed Luna as a filly or young pony, curled up tightly, prancing on clouds, or flying with the moon. All of these were incomplete, though. They were asymmetrically framed, as if they were meant to face an equal embroidery that complemented them. Some had clearly been cut down the middle, heedlessly dissecting elements of the tranquil scenes. One showed the diurnal cycle; it was the classic image of the yin and yang of the sun and moon, Celestia and Luna forever circling each other. Since it was Luna’s, it may have even been the original. Now it was split in two, and only the night remained. Applejack appreciated it as a gesture of independence, but could not shake the fact that it was somehow sad. The disconnected portrait showed unnatural yang without yin. Luna was caught in a teardrop falling through space. Completely apart in style and theme was a painting of what must have been the moon. It was painted with quick, decisive black brush strokes. Applejack wasn’t sure it was the moon though; there was no mare in the moon. Instead, the white orb was cracked and battered, its pristine surface viscerally damaged. Applejack caught herself gawking. She stepped in to give the Princess a gentle shake. Luna inhaled sharply and jerked her head up. On reflex she started to hide the abacus under herself, but she froze and looked up into her faithful subject’s eyes. She glanced around her comforting little sanctuary and back to Applejack, who followed her gaze. Luna sighed. Mutual awareness could not be retracted. “Sorry, I didn’t know,” Applejack sympathized. “You were not meant to, but it is alright,” Luna allowed. “Do not speak of it,” she requested softly. With reserved consideration, she added, “I suppose it will not really matter at the end.” “If you’ll pardon my asking, what’s that?” Applejack asked, gesturing at the mysterious painting. “It is the moon,” Luna stated simply. “But—“ Applejack started to object, but hesitated, not wanting to offend. “But that is not what it looks like?” the Princess completed knowingly. “That is how it appears from the other side, but it only shows one face to Equestria. That is what Equestria needs.” They reflected on the figureless, blasted landscape a moment before Luna inquired, “How long have I been asleep? “Maybe a couple hours,” the major reported. The Princess shook her head; she had not meant to desert her post so. “What requires my attention?” “Twilight and the others are waiting to speak with you like you said,” Applejack remembered. The alicorn gingerly lifted the blanket off of her wounded wing and rose up to her full height. It was only an illusion, but she seemed to stretch herself larger. She stepped past Applejack and closed the curtain behind them. “I hope you do not think me dishonest. What am I supposed to do?” Applejack was silent. With a deep breath, the Princess donned her crown. She continued to wonder, “Have I done wrong? I wanted to protect my ponies, but I may have led them to death.” She stepped under her armor and let it close around her. “You stood up for what was right, it’s not your fault it didn’t go your way,” Applejack reassured. Luna nodded her helmeted head. “Are you gonna see them in private?” the earth pony asked. “No,” Luna replied. “My soldiers have given up everything for me and their country, and now they are losing hope. They deserve to hear what is left to fight for.” She closed her eyes tightly as the spirit of strength and determination rose inside her again. Dark blue flowed out of her body along the hairs of her mane and tail, and they began to ripple once more. Sharp points of light appeared as the stars reasserted themselves. The warrior Princess opened her eyes. “Let us now choose our history.” A bare hill to the west of the camp made a natural meeting area. By the time Luna arrived to take her place on top of the hill, it had been prepared for her arrival. Not by her insistence but by her supporters’ devotion, a small shrine awaited her. She sat on ample cushions under a pavilion of gold lace on purple linen, flanked by large Lunar banners. Magicians and guards stood to either side. A carpet was rolled partway down the gentler slope of the hill to delineate the area of royal audience. Troops trampled down the grass and low weeds as they gathered, and officers lined up to form an aisle leading up to her. Usually, the Senate would have been present for decisions of great importance and necessary to authorize action. Fortunately, it was already arranged that the Premier would be granted emergency war powers should the Empire invade, and costly delays could be avoided. Applejack left the Princess to collect her friends. Those six mares who seemed to somehow fall into destiny moved up the hill together to the bottom edge of the carpet. As the two Solars seeking audience, Doctor Sparkle and Captain Dash advanced toward the Princess, who waited with her moon shining behind her. They were aware of multiple weapons, including anti-magic weapons, readied in case the commando and dark magician threatened Luna. The precautions were understandable, but Luna was not concerned. She started the meeting by addressing the crowd, “This is Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash. While they may have been our enemies, they have come peacefully. Even yesterday they saved the lives of many Solar and Lunar soldiers.” Having cleared their names, she opened the floor: “You have come seeking my audience, and now you have it.” Twilight found herself nervous under the gaze of Luna and her army, especially with the message she had to tell. Rainbow Dash’s nonchalant presence and the sheer necessity helped her steady herself, and she raised her voice, “Princess Luna, you are powerful, but your arts are not enough to raise the sun. Regardless of who wins, Equestria cannot survive without its light.” Luna gave a nod. “This war started when Celestia disappeared and the sun fell; I believe there’s hope for peace if it rises again,” Twilight asserted more boldly. “I’m here because I know where Celestia is, and that she wants to stop the war.” The assembled troops murmured doubtfully. The Princess, too, was suspicious of her sister’s intentions. “She has been—hurt—and the General has taken control of the Empire,” she continued. “As strange as it may be, she is asking for your help.” After a moment of shocked silence, dissenting and even mocking voices could be heard. Luna frowned; she feared the situation would force her hoof. Should the world go on if it could only be ruled by evil? She had not decided. In any case, she was not entirely convinced that her sister was alive; she could not imagine herself being separated from the moon while she still had breath. “Where is she and what help does she require?” “I think she should tell you herself,” Twilight replied, and signaled. Rarity and Fluttershy stood aside from Dusk, who had been largely unnoticed. Luna’s eyes shot to Applejack, who returned an apologetic expression. Dusk, looking dreary and slightly pathetic, loped up the aisle with her head down. She passed Dash and Twilight, and proclaimed feebly, “I am Celestia.” Some laughed at the implausibility of it. Luna knew when she saw Dusk what she would say. Instead of reacting as she did at first, Luna resolved to hold back her emotions until she was sure they would not be wasted. “If you are Celestia, remove your disguise and show yourself,” she demanded. “I can’t. There is no disguise,” Celestia said, shaking her head. “This is how I am now.” One of the magicians attending the moon Princess cast a dissolution spell on her, but the small grey one remained the same. “The F! She’s not even an alicorn!” somepony shouted. “Dusk” pulled back her carefully arranged mane to display her stumpy horn. The surrounding eyes stared at her, and some narrowed hatefully. “Celestia should die!” a voice called. “Kill her!” Twilight and Rainbow Dash moved to protect her, but aid from Solars only fed the crowd’s anger. “SILENCE! ORDER!” Luna’s great voice boomed. “She is under my protection until I make my judgment.” The ranks were hushed; none would disrespect her authority. She fixed her gaze intensely on Dusk. The diminutive alicorn sweated and her mouth went dry. “How can you be Celestia? What has happened?” “A force that I don’t understand struck me down and changed me so that I can’t control the sun,” Celestia explained. “I’ve consulted an artifact, and I think there is a way for me to be restored, but I need your help to do it.” Still in denial, Luna probed, “Speak like my sister, and show us what you know.” Celestia considered the challenge, before replying, “I know you.” She shook her head again, lamenting, “I should’ve loved you, but I was an awful bitch to you.” Refocusing on the test she continued, “I know what you’ve been doing. Every day I caused death and discord within your borders. I hid my attacks in my light and in ripples of cause and effect. Every day I wondered how to cause you pain in secret. Every night I waited for your move. What shadows would conceal you, and how would you work your revenge?” The Imperial media held as fact that Luna regularly infiltrated their territory to stir up evil deeds and havoc. Even many in the Republic clung to the idea to ease their frustration. Celestia admitted the truth of the matter, “Every night you shamed me and stood resolute above me, for you made no reply to my insults and attacks. You never broke the treaty and you always watched over your own subjects. After all I’ve done, how can I say ‘I’m sorry’? It would be an insult. I’m shit next to you.” “You are perceptive,” the Premier said, “but Celestia is far too proud to grovel so.” “I was,” the fallen ruler insisted. “I know you. No one else does, do they? I still remember the truth, though I claimed you were all darkness and nightmares. Your own ponies know you as a light in the darkness, which is also who you are. They see a ruler, a warrior, a guardian. But that’s not what you wanted to be. You wanted…” Celestia came closer so that she would not have to speak as loudly. It seemed so wrong, so alien to the present world, that it was hard to verbalize. “You wanted to be the fairytale princess everyone told you that you would be while they made you grow up so fast. I remember when you weren’t a bold light. You were a pretty light—a sweet dream. That’s what you always said. When you went to sleep, I told you ‘Good morning,’ and then I made sure you did have a good morning. And every night, you told me, ‘Sweet dreams,’ and I knew I would have sweet dreams.” They were innocent words from polluted lips. The words hurt, as did the recollection. Each of them shared their most tender memories with their worst enemy. It was only pitiful, and agonizingly sad, to talk about the kind of innocence that they could never have again. Finally, this was testimony enough for Luna. She held her head high and looked down, her eyes wet with angry tears. All were motionless and silent. She stood like a monument, a worn but menacing gargoyle that watches over a cemetery. The air was heavy and oppressive as darkness gathered involuntarily around the Princess. Righteous wrath pooled in her chest like deep waters behind a dam. Here was everything that had hurt her and her ponies, a font of bitterness and betrayal. She felt too the loneliness of the moon forced to wander the sky alone, for her sister had long been dead to her, leaving no one who understood her existence. What mercy could she give to one so pitiless? She longed inwardly for a reunited family. But after all that she had been through, her mind reeled in horror at the thought of once again seeking Celestia’s love. “Leave!” she commanded from the darkness in a pained but stern royal voice. The servants and soldiers retreated from the hill. The ashen alicorn stood unflinching until she was carried away by royal guards. The moon rapidly abandoned the night sky, casting the land into real shadow. Total blackness and silence shrouded the crest of the hill from all else.
Creatures StirringChapter 32 Troops moved for a day, while the Princess’s group waited in their hiding place. Though none had spoken out against Celestia, an unusual arrangement for the small camp was deemed wiser. Luna stayed at the edge of the camp, with the six friends guarding Celestia behind her. That night Celestia lay with her eyes closed until she was convinced the other ponies were asleep. The blanket moved off of her by silent magic and she carefully moved out from under it. She slunk out without drawing any attention, but in the clear sky Luna’s moon gazed down at her. “I have to be sure,” she defended, “I can’t fail this time. You wouldn’t understand, though, would you?” She thought of her sister in the battle for the Ponyville Gap. Luna chose to take the risk to save the townsfolk, and defeat had proved her wrong. Celestia assured herself that her sister was far too busy to be watching her right now. She moved quietly around the side of the tent until she was as close as she could get to where Rarity was sleeping. Her horn lit up her face. The magic light played through the neat curls that the stylist had given her and glistened on the oils that held them together and gave them their fullness. She knew the pain it would cause, but that was why she was there. Rarity wouldn’t forgive her, but then again she wouldn’t know. The guilty glow reflected back at her from a set of eyes right beside her. She gasped and jumped back, but recovered herself somewhat seeing that it was only Fluttershy. The yellow pony apologized, “I’m sorry I startled you.” Celestia was glad for the kind-hearted pony’s soft voice. “Why were you so frightened? Are you okay?” she asked, intent on helping. The old Princess marveled that the half-tamed pegasus had still doted over her after learning her true identity. It seemed safe to confide in such a disarming and reserved pony. Celestia confessed in a whisper, “Because I’m such a bad pony. I’m bad even when I try to do something good.” Fluttershy gave her a look of condolence, but instead of comforting her further, the feral pony sniffed the side of the tent inquisitively. She turned a surprisingly intense look to Celestia and demanded softly, “Were you being bad to Rarity?” “I’m sorry, but I had to,” the alicorn admitted. “You should be good to her. I mean, she’s been good to you,” Fluttershy rebuked. “You should stop.” Celestia shook her head sorrowfully and explained, “I know, but it’s for you and all the other ponies. I have to.” Fluttershy looked at her intensely for another second before bowing away. Her tiny voice gave a wavering ultimatum, “You need to stop. If you don’t, I’ll tell Rarity, if that’s okay. No, it IS okay. Please undo whatever you did, or I’ll have to stop you, but I don’t want to do that.” Celestia took the opportunity afforded by the larger pegasus’s emotional sensitivity to order firmly, “No, you won’t. I can’t stop, and I won’t. I don’t like it but it has to be done, do you understand?” The shy one hid behind her mane and whimpered, “Please.” Celestia harshly answered, “No.” She didn’t see the wild glint in Fluttershy’s eye, but she did see the pegasus turn and run. Celestia scolded herself for misjudging this one once again. She could not allow a witness to leave in such a distraught state. The small pony took chase, following Fluttershy out of the camp and into the treacherous forest. Celestia’s oversized pupils tracked the pink blur despite the thick shadows. Fluttershy had a way with the undergrowth that made it difficult to keep up. Celestia, in her dusk form, was smaller and could fit through tight gaps to maintain the pursuit. The shy one eluded her momentarily, but she soon saw a silky tail tuck behind a bush. She leapt over to the shrub but Fluttershy was away again. This hesitation showed Celestia that her quarry did not wish to escape completely, which was good. It would not do to tackle her, but rather to have her stop and talk it over. The pink tail slid over the edge of a rock as it slipped down a hole. The duskling crawled through the opening and paused, adjusting her senses to the real darkness. She attempted to regain her breath, but was disappointed to realize she had had all the exercise she could stand. After the entrance of the den, it opened up into a wider space, but she could not tell how far back it went. She took several cautious steps and lit the interior of the small cave with her magic. She didn’t want to corner Fluttershy too closely, but she wanted it to be clear that she had found the pegasus. Fluttershy looked down at her from the top of a round rock that lay under a rise in the ceiling. The pegasus looked at her flatly, no longer timid but immovable, like the rock. With renewed uncertainty, Celestia asked, “Fluttershy?” Something that curved around the rock behind Fluttershy shifted. Celestia concentrated her light to see what it was. A long form with gray and brown fur surrounded the yellow pony’s pedestal. The beam passed along its body and three pairs of shoulders, coming to an apprehensive focus on a narrow snout with fierce fangs. Red eyes blinked at the intruding alicorn and the creature gave a hissing growl. Celestia hastily diffused and dimmed her light and took a nervous step back. Fluttershy gently commanded, “Ripper, no. Friend.” Her guardian creature fell silent. The pegasus stared at her savage companion from her underworld throne. “Ever since the trouble, I have lived with the creatures of the forest—all the creatures of the forest,” she began. “Do you think I’m a freak for living with predators?” she asked, but seemed strangely unconcerned about the answer. “Ripper can eat nuts and berries for a while, but eventually he has to eat meat. I feel sorry for the poor little critters he eats, but it would be cruel to expect him to starve. Once he got hungry enough, he wouldn’t listen to me anyway. The jungle does what it will.” “But there is one thing I do,” she continued, changing her tone. “I have critters that are my friends. I won’t let Ripper eat them. He’s free to eat anything else, but when I tell him something is my friend, he leaves it alone.” Fluttershy turned to transfer the discussion onto Celestia. “I know on the inside you’re a big alicorn Princess. What you do is between you and worlds. You do big, important things, and I could never control you. But I do have friends. Rarity is my friend. You can’t hurt my friends. You’re going to undo whatever you did to Rarity.” The boldness of the wild pegasus and the fairness of her discourse—or perhaps the imposing fangs of the beast—forced Celestia to surrender. “Alright, I’ll undo it. First thing tomorrow, or you can tell them all about me,” she promised. Fluttershy jumped down beside her. She discarded threatening airs but held her dignity as she requested, “Please don’t tell the others about Ripper. They might not understand.” Not to be blackmailed, she added, “I don’t want them to think about me differently, but I know they would accept me anyway. But they’re a lot more likely to forgive you if you tell them what you did yourself.” Fluttershy strode confidently past and back into the leafy maze. Ripper followed close behind, smelling Celestia before moving on. The humbled alicorn also followed, sullenly. She added some spring to her step as she realized that she was not entirely certain how to get back to the camp herself. When the three neared the Lunar army, Ripper whined and shied away. Fluttershy turned back to nuzzle the carnivore fondly before sending him on his way. The ponies continued into camp. Before they went in to sleep, Fluttershy stopped Celestia and offered, “I may be a hermit but I do know something about friendship. If you apologize to Rarity instead of hiding everything, I think she’ll forgive you eventually. You’d be closer to being real friends afterward. Maybe if you would tell us what your problems are, we could help.” “I’ll think about it,” Celestia covered.
Domestically IncorrectChapter 44 Celestia sat in the grass behind her house and watched the sunset. A hedgerow enclosed the back yard and let her be alone with her sky. She had set the scene with orange and pink as she felt herself suspended over the edge of the world. She met a layer of low clouds on her way down and painted them with a red-ochre. Here she was free to focus on her native element and on beauty. If anyone else was watching, so be it; but she was satisfied simply that it was there. She calmed and cooled, letting the stars push through as her dominion waned. Then for a moment she was not alone. She could feel Luna awaken behind her and take in the sky even as Celestia gave it up. This dusk did not linger, but came to a close as is the way of things. Now she could rest, her only duty completed for the day. There was a knock on the door, the front door. She got up and slipped quietly in the back door and prepared to answer her own door for the first time. Her thoughts were disturbed as she passed blank paper on the table. She had gone by a parent-sanctioned route and bought ink, but when she tried to write the letter to Trixie, words would not come. Not to keep her visitor waiting, she flung open her humble gateway and babbled, “Welcome to Celestia, her house, um, you are greeted, here.” Pinkie Pie snorted in greeting, unfurling a red-striped blowout with each nostril and letting out a ridiculous whine. “Hey ‘Tia! Welcome to Ponyville! You’re invited to the party!” “Oh, Pinkie Pie!” she responded in surprise, “What party?” “Your party, of course!” Pinkie Pie cheered. Suddenly she was behind the distinguished alicorn. Celestia’s mind stumbled, “She’s clearly an earth pony, how could she have teleported—“ and she was being pushed out the door. “Come on, we better get you to Sugarcube Corner, everypony is waiting, but I was going to surprise you, surprise!” bubbled the party pony. “There’s cake and pie and music, and you look like you need fun.” “Yes, I would love some cake,” Celestia conceded. She stood and anchored herself firmly to the ground to protest, “I’m not sure about the ponies. I was just enjoying a quiet evening, and they might have more fun without me.” “Don’t be a Princess Stuffypants. That’s why I threw you a party, so you could win them over,” Pinkie Pie explained. “Show them you can have fun just like any pony.” “Oh, I guess that makes sense. Thank you for helping me,” Celestia said, trotting forward, knowing her host would quickly take the lead. When they entered the party room of the rebuilt bakery, some of the assembled ponies gave a very staged cheer. Pinkie Pie set off confetti dispensers and nudged her guest of honor as a silence descended. Celestia stepped forward and hailed, “Hello, ponies. I’m Celestia, but of course you know that. Thank you for welcoming me into your wonderful town. I look forward to getting to know you all.” Most of the guests froze, and Pinkie Pie leapt to put on some up-beat music to fill the silence. Celestia tossed her waving mane out of the way as she scanned for a familiar face to bail her out. Ah yes, there was Applejack. They might even have something to talk about. “Hello, Applejack, how’s Sweet Apple Acres doing?” she began. “Oh, not too bad, the fire missed most of our trees. It was easy enough to rebuild the farmhouse, but the trees take years to grow back, you know,” Applejack reported, trying not to show resentment. “How’s Twilight?” she asked of their shared concern. Celestia paused to put together her answer. “She’s been recovering very well, although she still can’t move her hind legs. The good news is she is breathing normally now, and learning to get around again. It’s a good thing she has her magic. And she has Spike to look out for her.” Applejack chuckled at that last bit. The cowgirl, still saddened for her friend, put out, “It’s just a shame she got tore up like that.” She didn’t mention that Twilight was almost killed sacrificing herself for the former ruler, just like Rarity, but Celestia was thinking the same thing. “It must be the Elements of Harmony,” she proposed. “I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s quite a thing,” Applejack agreed, remembering the feeling of the united Elements. Celestia realized she was holding some promising information. “My sister offered that if Rarity did her design work here, Luna’s court would still keep her on call. And if Twilight can get a research grant, she might come back out here to study the magic of friendship.” “Really?!” AJ gave a hushed exclamation as her eyes lit up. “Our Doctor Sparkle’s reports would go to Luna of course, but with my sister’s permission I would like to read them as well,” Celestia continued hopefully. “I do have a lot to learn.” Since they were on the thread of reuniting those six ponies, she noted one that was missing. “Where’s Fluttershy?” “Bless her butterflies, but that one’s a hard case,” Applejack almost huffed. “She’s still extra shy, an’ won’t come into town much. We fixed up her cottage—it had just been abandoned for years—but I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s sleepin’ in the forest right now.” “Maybe I should talk to her,” Celestia offered. “I’m not sure that would work out,” the earth pony objected. “She’s all skittish, ya know, and you’re not the least threatening face, no offence.” “She might be stronger than you think. She actually gave me quite a scare when she caught me—“ Celestia trailed off. Applejack arched her eyebrow and demanded, “Caught you doin’ what?” “Maybe you should ask Fluttershy,” the alicorn suggested, rather than stumble over sensitive topics for all involved. “Mm hm,” Applejack said suspiciously. “I think I will.” Celestia sensed it was time to move on. She approached Mister and Misses Cake, where they were talking with—yipes—that old produce vendor she couldn’t seem to shake. “Thank you for opening up your place for tonight,” she addressed the proprietors. “It’s an honor to have you again,” Replied Mrs. Cake. “Take a cupcake.” It was red velvet with cheesecake icing. “Mmmm, that is so good,” she said after the first bite. The taste of the treat brought back memories. “Oh right, I have come here before.” “Well, it wasn’t exactly here, Sugarcube Corner was over there,” Mr. Cake pointed out. The misses jabbed him with her elbow. “Of course, I’m really sorry that happened,” Celestia condoled. “I’m glad everyone made it out safely.” “It happened?” the fruit vendor objected. He would have held his peace, but then he perceived her trying to dodge the truth, or so he thought. “Wasn’t it you that done it?” She had been reminded of Ponyville’s destruction enough times, and she was getting tired of taking the fall for it. “I didn’t burn the town, I stole your fruit and punched your daughter.” “What? Is that some kind of joke?!” he growled fiercely. Immediately she wished to disappear so hard that it was all she could do to keep from actually teleporting away. “And I’m sorry about that too. I did save her life. By throwing her out of a wagon,” she said, continuing to dig the hole deeper. The colt was just about to throttle her when Pinkie Pie intervened, “Yeah, and she was eensy-weensy, and smelled bad!” Pulling Celestia aside, she complained, “You’re not very good at parties. Throttling is a SERIOUS party foul, you know.” “It’s easier when everypony doesn’t blame you for ruining the world,” the persecuted alicorn pointed out. “Totally!” her hostess agreed. She motioned to the serious and reserved crowd and added, “These are some tough customers. We need to break the ice into a million pieces! First you’ll need to loosen up a little. Take this.” She held out a big bottle of tequila. Celestia paused at the sight of the alcohol. She used to be a considerable drinker, but since her return she had not felt the need for spirits. There was no yawning emptiness to fill, and the love and acceptance she had found was enough to drown her sorrows. Still, the situation was desperate, and what would it hurt to have a little fun? She took the bottle and took a sip. It was a good sip. Applejack caught wind of something going down and trotted to the scene. “Wait a minute, y’all. I don’t see how that will help.” “Just watch us,” Pinkie Pie boasted energetically. “Unless you want to join us.” Celestia threw back the bottle, and started to get more comfortable on the spot. Pinkie Pie downed her own magic elixir, chugging a flask of maple syrup. Applejack could hardly keep up with the bad ideas. “Wait, you’re only supposed to drink a couple shots of that at a time or—put it on pancakes.” The party master pulled out a new record and challenged, “We can do it on the dance floor! I hope you have some moves.” “I, I think I do,” Celestia said, downing the tequila and considering that she may never have gotten an honest appraisal, being Empress and all. Pinks tossed the record into the player and turned it as loud as it would go. “This is a real crowd pleaser! We can’t go wrong.” “Luna have mercy, not that song, Pinkie Pie!” Applejack pleaded urgently. A punk colt band began to howl lyrics about how hot their mamacita was. “Let’s go!” Pinkie Pie shouted and waved for Celestia to follow. The two headed for an open spot of smooth floor as Applejack stared in horror. “This town has principles, y’all don’t dance like that!” she warned. “These aren’t soldiers, Pinkie Pie!” ___---\ ==) ____ --.*--- A very confused white alicorn leaned against the wall of Sugarcube Corner and processed the dawning regret of the last couple hours. Her mane and tail lay limp and tangled around her. A pink blur came into focus as it reached out a hoof to shake her. “Tia, are you back?” Pinkie Pie asked, with a mixture of concern and amusement. From where she lived at the bottom of the bottle of tequila, Celecita had visited Ponyville. She and the Pinkie had crashed their own party so hard that all the other guests excused themselves. As she pushed a crumpled sombrero away from herself, Celestia made a mental note that “me gusta” was no longer an acceptable part of her vocabulary. She blinked and willed her eyes to look the same direction. She rubbed her head and groaned, “Where is everypony?” Pinkie Pie shrugged and joked, “I guess they all had someplace to be.” “Really?” Celestia wondered aloud. She couldn’t quite get the events in order but that wasn’t how she remembered it. “No, you totally scared them all off. Okay, maybe I helped a little,” Pinkie Pie admitted. “I don’t get your style, but you take the cake for putting it out there!” she laughed. “Oh no, I was supposed to win them over,” Celestia lamented. “Now I need to apologize for what happened.” “Totally!” Pinkie Pie agreed. “Lucky for you I know a thing or two about that. First, we should tell Applejack we’re sorry ‘cause she’s our friend. Next, go to that couple you were REALLY weird with. Then we can get the mayor to round up the rest so you can feel like crap in front of everyone,” she finished, with a face of mock humiliation and terror. “And you can get it over with,” she smiled. Celestia looked down at the floor. This wasn’t how she wanted to start relaxing in the country, but she had certainly been in much worse positions before. Fitting in here was going to be harder than she thought though. She took a closer look at Pinkie. Her mane was drooped with disappointment, but it wasn’t all the way uncurled. “Oh, Pinkie, I’m sorry about your party.” Pinkamena tried to hold onto her smile, but sighed as she surveyed the lonely wasteland of tipped tables and scattered party favors. Her enthusiasm was spent, but it was replaced by a defiant, wry expression Celestia had not seen before. “If the ship’s going down, it’s better to go down with all guns blazing,” she reasoned. “No one can say it was boring.” “I should help you clean up,” Celestia offered. “I did most of the damage.” “No,” the experienced host countered quickly. “It’s better if you don’t stay over any later.” Celestia didn’t expect her party friend to think like that, but unfortunately she was right. At Pinkie Pie’s insistence, she escorted the tipsy alicorn back home. By all rights, Miss Pie had consumed enough maple syrup to DIE, but she just bounced through the energy and kept going. Celestia’s metabolism had dealt with the alcohol by the time they reached the house. For better or worse, they were unfairly unaffected. She leaned down to eye level, and despite their indiscretions, said, “Thanks for the party.” With a sheepish smile, she added, “At least now they know I can have fun too.” “Yeah, you won’t have to worry about them fussing over you like a Princess ever again,” Pinkie congratulated her. “Now they think you’re a floozy freak. Floozy freak, that’s fun to say!” Celestia grimaced, and begged, “Please don’t.” “Alright,” Pinkie Pie conceded. The wry smile was back. “Hey, you might be a lotta things, but you’re not afraid to have a good time. Maybe next time I just won’t invite all the party poopers.” Celestia’s eyes widened with a mixture of anticipation and alarm, and she mumbled, “Mm-hm.”
