On a bright and sunny day, Equestria burns.
Enormous balls of fire rain down from the sky. When they strike, they send monstrous geysers of ash and pulverized rock skyward. Rings of incandescent air wash over the land, licking at it like a hungry beast.
Like a tidal wave of flame, the blast incinerates everything in sight. The Everfree forest becomes a sea of charred stumps. Ponyville’s wooden houses go up in a firestorm; houses, carts, plants, and ponies drift skyward as plumes of ash. Manehatten’s proud skyscrapers are turned to charred metal skeletons.
Soon, all that is left is Canterlot. Two princesses stand in front of the inferno, looking for all the world like two children facing off a storm. Their horns glow as a shimmering golden shield forms over the city.
The flames crash against the sphere of magical energy. The shield ripples under the strain, squealing like a colossal rusty hinge ,but it holds. The populace cheers; it looks like there may be a tomorrow after all!
Their joy is short-lived. Before anypony can react, the shield buckles and breaks. Everything is engulfed in flame…
-
-
GAH!
Princess Celestia awakes with a start, her bedsheets soaked with frigid sweat.
“It’s ok, Tia, it was just a dream, it was just a dream.” The snow-white alicorn says to herself over and over again like a mantra. She clasps her hooves together, "Remember Luna’s dream exercises."
The Princess takes a deep breath. “It’s alright. Nothing you saw was real.” She giggles nervously. “ It was all just a figment of your imagination. Yep, just that pesky ol’ imagination getting the better of you.”
The alicorn’s heartbeat slows. She starts breathing normally.
"That's better." She turns her head towards her shattered bedroom window.
“Goodness, look at the time!” The gray, bony alicorn pulls off her ratty bed sheets and stands up on her stringy legs. One of her bloodshot eyes twitches. “I need to raise the sun right now!”
With that, the princess quickly clops over to the tower’s balcony, her hooves crunching on broken glass and masonry. “ I swear, Luna simply must stop throwing such wild parties.” She mutters as she stands on the balcony. All around her is an impenetrable, blackness; it’s as if the tower were submerged in a sea of ink.
“Alright, Luna. Whenever you’re ready!”
Nothing. The sky remains as dark as ever.
“ Luna, it’s morning.” She giggles nervously. “I know that your night skies are beautiful, but ponies need to get up and they can’t get up without the sun!”
Still nothing.
“What’s that?” Celestia cranes her stringy neck. “You say you’re not feeling very well?”
Nothing. The only sounds are the howling of the wind.
“Don’t worry, I’ll lower the moon for you. Just lay down and get some sleep.”
The alicorn stands there.
“Luna, I know you want to fulfill your royal duties, but you seriously must lay down!”
She waits for a little while.
“That’s it, go to bed , little sister. I’ll look after things while you’re resting. Get well soon!”
With that, Celestia places her stick-like hooves on the balcony railing and closes her eyes. Her chipped horn glows with a dim yellow light.
“Alright, dear friend. It’s time to come up.” She giggles. “C‘mon, up up up!”
A dull, grey blob slowly appears on the horizon, moving as if it were reluctant to leave its resting place. The feeble light, filtered through countless layers of ash and dust, falls upon a desert of drifting ash dunes and dust devils, bisected by a lone, winding river the color of dried mud.
As the anemic sun rises,it reveals a city of ghosts.Even through the thick ash clouds, Celestia can still make out the charred, gutted ruins of what used to be Equestria’s capital city. Rows of charred timbers line the debris-clogged streets-- the encroaching ash drifts give them the appearance of twigs half-buried in snow. The few stone buildings that remain are nothing but empty shells- their stone-brick sides look like walls made of old charcoal briquettes.
The Princess gasps at the sight. I swear, it gets more beautiful every morning.
A vice tightens around Celestia brain. You really are insane, aren’t you?
Celestia frowns. It was always the same. Every day of every week of every year, that pesky Voice would show up, whispering those horrible lies.
Look at this place. Look at it! The Voice says, Canterlot isn't a city anymore.It’s a graveyard!
“A graveyard?!” Celestia shouts. “I’ll have you know that Canterlot is the most lively city in all of Equestria.”
Really? I don’t see much ‘liveliness’. Could you point it out?”
“You need to give it some time!” Celestia says. “The sun just rose!”
I’d counter that, but it’s kinda early. I’ll be back.
As soon as the Voice leaves, its insidious companion the Rasp takes its place, right on schedule. Celestia can feel it in the back of her head, gnawing away at her confidence with questions she cannot answer.
Thankfully, the doubts are weak now. A slight mental push banishes the Rasp into the depths of her mind like a monster into the depths of Tartarus.
With that, Celestia trots back into her sleeping chambers. “Well, time to make myself look like a princess.” She giggles as she plucks a comb off of the dresser.
“one…two…three…” Celestia counts as she brushes her stringy, mangy coat. The once-pristine fur, the envy of mares the world over, is stained a permanent light gray from ash. Ribs like the bars of a cage poke through the coat.
“There we go!” Celestia puts down the brush and retrieves her regalia from a dresser.
“Hmm…” She mumbles, turning the tiara and collar over. “Looks a bit smudged.”
Celestia breathes on her dented, tarnished tiara and rubs it with a hoof. “Much better.”
With that, the alicorn trots down the winding staircase leading from her sleeping chambers, her hooves slipping on the crumbling masonry. Once she reaches the bottom, she trots down the hallway to the Royal Dining hall, her hooves clip-clopping on the dusty tiles.
As Celestia walks, she turned her head towards a ponnequin dressed in the remains of a maid’s uniform.
“Good morning, Featherduster. How are you?”
The ponnequin stands there in stoic silence.
“That’s good to hear!” Celestia twists her head around. “Listen, could you be a dear and take a look at my sleeping quarters. Luna had a party in there last night and the place is a mess.”
The ponniquin says nothing.
“Well, I won’t keep you any longer!”
With that, Celestia trotts down the crumbling hallway, deftly threading her way through piles of shattered masonry and collapsed support beams.
“Good morning, Twilight.” Celestia says to a ponniquin wearing a blackened, warped tiara. “How are you doing? Did you sleep well?” She starts laughing. “I hope you didn’t’ stay up all night reading again. You know that reading in the dark is bad for your eyes.”
“Twilight” says nothing.
“Oh, Twilight, you don’t need to call me ‘Princess’ anymore”, Celestia twirls around and sits at the other end of the table. ”Just ‘Celestia’ will do” She giggles. “Now, what do you say we have some breakfast?”
The ponnequin is surrounded by a weak golden aura. It slowly floats itself over to the table and pulls itself a seat.
“There we go.” Celestia ties a rotting napkin around her neck, chewing on one frayed corner. “I wonder what the royal chefs have made for breakfast today?”
Celestia’s horn glows again. A rusted serving cart inches its way towards the table, its wheels squeaking as if it were in pain.
“Ooh, I wonder what this could be?” The princess levitates a covered dish onto her setting and lifts the cover, revealing a rusting can of stewed tomatoes: perhaps the last tomatoes on the planet.
“My favorite!” A blast of magic slices the lid clean off, and Celestia wolfs down the decades -old fruit. Juice trickles down her hollow-cheeked muzzle in little rivulets, giving her the appearance of an equine vampire after feeding.
“Ah, yes.” Celestia lifts a chipped teacup and sipped. “Ahh…” The bitter, grey mud trickles down her gullet. “Earl Grey.” She turns to Twilight “You should try it sometime! It really helps soothe the soul! Yes, soothe the soul.”
Soothes the soul, huh? You could sure use that.
Celestia frowns and raises a hoof. “Excuse me, Twilight.” She turns her chair around. “Do you mind?!”
Yes, I do mind that you’re filling my body with that filthy water.
“Your body?” Celestia yelled indignantly. “This body is mine and mine alone!”
You disappoint me, Tia. You of all ponies know that this body belongs to both of us. You and me are like two sides of the same coin, two ponies sharing the same dilapidated shack, the light and dark side of the moon, or whatever simile you prefer.”
“You’re not me.” Celestia growls. “You’re some figment of my imagination that’s gone rogue!”
You sure about that?
“Very sure.” She said confidently, twisting her neck around.
Very well them. I’ll be seeing you.
With that, the Voice leaves, and the Rasp returns, grinding away at Celestia’s mind. The Princess strains herself to push it back down again.
The last drop the “tea” slips down Celestia’s throat. “Well, that was delicious.” Celestia pushes her plate aside and giggles. “Now it’s time to get to work. I’ll see you later, my faithful student.”
The Twilight ponnequin is surrounded by a golden aura- as if it were suspended in a blob of lemon jelly, and the ersatz princess floats itself out the door.
Once Twilight is gone, Celestia sighs and puts her teacup aside. She unties the napkin around her neck and trots to the council chamber.
A princesses’ work was never done.
-
The wooden gavel slams itself against the rotting table.
“I now call this meeting of the Day Court to order.” Celestia said from her place at the head of the rotting council table.
“Alright, lets start by taking roll.”
Celestia watches over a rotting, cracked table, surrounded by piles of junk dressed in Canterlot finery. The princess holds up a scroll and puts on a pair of cracked, dusty reading glasses. She turns to a cracked statue. “Senator Filly Buster?”
She turns to a sack of hay vaguely shaped like a pony. “Senator Gerry Mander?”
Celestia goes from object to object, listing the names of senators who have been dead for decades. A crumbling painting becomes “Senator Scramblefree”. A frayed broom topped with a bucket becomes “Senator Fatcat”.
Celestia continues until she’s named every single object in the room.
“Alrighty then!” The scroll vanishes, and Celestia bangs the gavel again “Let us begin!”
The Princess takes a crumbling parchment from a stack and blows off a layer of dust. “First order of business: the income tax. I believe that it should be repealed.”
Celestia’s head whips towards a bust of some long-dead noble.
“Yes, Senator Whip, I know that the Royal treasuries are recording a deficit this year…” She says to the inanimate object. “That’s why we need to cut this tax. By doing that, we’ll save consumers money, which will allow them to buy more goods which will pump more money into our economy, and into our coffers.”
The court sits in stoic silence.
Celestia twists her head towards a stack of books topped with a stone head. She strains her ear. “What’s that, Senator Witchhunt?” She listens to the pile. “Senator, I’ve been studying economics for well over a millennium.” She grins. “Trust me on this one, ok?”
The bust says nothing.
“Alrighty then.” Celestia stands, twisting her forelimbs together. Her eye twitches. “Let us put this to the vote. All in favor of repealing the tax, say ‘aye.”
The court stays perfectly still.
“All opposed? This is your chance!”
Nothing.
The Princess growls. “I said this is your last chance!”
Still nothing.
“Say something!” A burst of light explodes from the alicorn's horn. Clouds of dust and paper fly into the air, while “Senators” fall over lifelessly.
The anger subsides as quickly as it came. “Whoopsy!” The princess blushes. “Sorry. I’m not sure what came over me.”
Celestia quickly sets the senators back onto their seats. She bangs the gavel. “Then it’s settled. As of right now, I hereby repeal the income tax. Yep, I have definitely repealed the income tax.” The emaciated pony rolls around on the dusty floor, laughing as if the announcement were the funniest joke in existence. Finally, she sits back down. “Now, on to the next order of business…”
Order of business? What business?
Celestia winces as the vice tightens in her brain. “Can’t you see I’m busy?!”
Why do you keep torturing yourself like this, Tia?
“Torturing myself? I’m not torturing myself!”
Tia, those senators have been dead for years. They haven’t breathed in decades, much less voted on new laws.
“What are you talking about?” Celestia yells, “I can see them all right here! They just passed the new tax cut!”
Them? You mean those piles of junk you set up so you could have somepony to talk to?
“They are not junk!” Celestia says adamantly. She points to a vase atop a pile of stone bricks. “Look, at Senator Bezzlement, there. Does he look like a pile of junk?!”
The Voice sighs.There’s just no getting through to you, is there?
With that, the Voice leaves. The instant it leaves, the Rasp does its work on Celestia’s mind, filling her brain with swarms of doubt.
Maybe it’s right. The doubts whisper. Maybe they are dead.
Celestia shakes her head and banishes the Rasp once again.
“You know what, I think that’s enough for today. Wouldn’t you agree?”
The Senators keep their thoughts to themselves.
“.Good. I now adjourn the Day Court until tomorrow.” Celestia bangs the gavel three times. “Good day, everypony.”
With that, the alicorn rises from her seat and stretches. She rubs her back a little; four hours of sitting down is murder on the back. Her spine feels like a piece of rope that’s been twisted one too many times.
“I need to get out.” Celestia moans, rubbing her back with an ash-stained hoof. “Yes, get out. A nice stroll through downtown Canterlot should do the trick. Yep, it’ll do the trick nicely!”
Celestia gallops over to a convenient balcony and leaps off the railing. She spreads her thin, molting wings and glides towards the ruins of Canterlot.
-
Ok, spread your wings out, angle out, and…
Whumpf!
Celestia lands on a street choked with rubble, her wings blow up thick clouds of dust. There we go! Another perfect landing!
The alicorn folds her wings against her body as she trots down the ruins of downtown Canterlot, spouting out greetings to everything in sight.
“Hello!“ She says to a skeleton trapped under a collapsed stone wall. “Hello” She yells to a skeleton half-buried in ash. “Don’t mind little ol’ me” She giggles. “Just passing through.”
As she walks, The princess comes across a flower cart pieced together from scrap wood.
“My, how lovely!” Celestia plucks a length of wire bent into the shape of a flower. “How much for one of those lovely red roses?” She asks the skeleton watching the cart.
She nods, “That seems reasonable.” She rummages through her saddle bag.
“Here you go!” Celestia places a tarnished bit into the skeleton's rotted saddlebags; the former pony slumps onto the ground with a sound like a bag of sticks.
“Oh my, are you alright?” A lemon-colored aura surrounds the skeleton and sets it back on its stumpy legs. “There you go!” Celestia gently pats the skeleton’s partly charred skull. She giggles.
“You’re welcome.” The Princess trots away from the stand. She presses the piece of wire to her muzzle and sniffs, filling her nostrils with the scent of rusting metal and ash.
“Ahh…” She sticks the piece of scrap into her mane and continues down the debris-choked road.
As she walks, the Princess eyes an old, half-collapsed bakery.
“Oooh, I wonder if they have any red velvet cake in stock!”
The Princess licks her dry, cracked lips. She can already see it; warm and moist, with a thick, pasty coating of cream cheese that makes her taste buds beg for more. “I haven’t had that in ages!”
Celestia took a step towards the derelict bakery.
Really, Celestia. Cake?
The alicorn freezes in her tracks. Not again. “Yes, cake. I’m going to buy some cake.”
Tia, that bakery’s been abandoned for decades. There hasn’t’ been a cake made here since that.
“What are you talking about?” Celestia shouts. She points to a skeleton wearing the carbonized scraps of an apron. “There’s the baker right there,” She waves to the skeleton. “Hi, baker! That‘s a lovely cake you‘re making there”
Tia, that’s baker’s dead. Canterlot’s dead. The World is dead. Has been for a while.
“No, they’re not dead.” She waves a hoof over the ruined city. “Look at this place. I haven’t seen it this lively in ages!”
Wake up and smell the tea, Celestia! You’re probably the last living thing in Equestria. Hay, for all we know, you‘re the last living thing on the planet! You’re just too crazy to admit it!
Celestia grits her teeth. “I am not crazy.
Ok, then why are you talking to yourself?
“I am not talking to myself!”
Then who are you talking to?
Celestia stops. For the first time in centuries, she finds herself at a loss for words.
“…Somepony. I don’t know.”
Face it Tia, you’re crazy.
“I am not.”
You’re crazy.
“I am not!”
You’re crazy.
“SHUT UP!" Celestia’s voice echoes off the stone walls, taunting her with a choir of echoes. “SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!!!”
For a minute, Celestia stands there, her emaciated chest heaving. ”For the last time, I am not crazy! I’m just a little stressed, that’s all.”
The Voice seems to shrug. Fine. Go play pretend with ghosts. I’ll be back later.
The Voice stops and the Rasp takes over. Celestia clutches her head as doubt ravages her brain like a swarm of parasprites at a picnic. Something like an invisible vice squeezes her brain mercilessly.
Maybe it’s right. The Rasp whispers.I mean, think about it? Why isn’t anypony moving? Why are the streets so messy? Why are-
Celestia whacks the side of her head. No, the Voice is wrong. The Rasp is wrong. Everything is just fine. Canterlot is as lively and as vibrant as it ever was.
The Princess looks around and blushes. “Oh, it looks like I’ve made a scene.” She says sheepishly. “It’s alright everypony!” she says to the empty streets. “I’m alright. Just, go about your business!” She giggles and waves. “Sorry to scare you like that!”
The alicorn sighs. She doesn’t really feel like cake anymore; that annoying Voice has spoiled her appetite.
“Maybe I need to get out of the city for awhile.” She says to herself. She nods. Yes, that sounds good: a little time with good ol’ mother nature is just what the doctor ordered.
With that, Celestia pumps her ratty wings and take off over the Canterlot city walls. She knows the perfect place…
-
“Ahhhh…”
Celestia sighs as she sniffs the dusty air. Her nostrils fill with the alkaline bite of ash.
The princess rears up on her hind legs and gallops along the ash dunes, kicking up little clouds of carbonized plants, animals, and ponies.
“My what a lovely day.” Celestia says to nopony. She cranes her neck, listening to the sound of the wind whistling through the dunes. “Those birds have never sounded lovel-whoop!”
Something catches the alicorn’s left hindleg. She reels around for a second, then falls into the ash.
Celestia spits out a wad of spit-soaked ash. What was that? She sees the offending object and digs it out of the barren ground. It looks something like a charred legbone. A long time ago, it might have belonged to somepony.
Celestia picks up the charred bone and starts swinging it like some macabre sword. She remembered how when Luna and she were fillies, they’d play “Damsel in Distress. Luna would be the brave knight, and Celestia would be the ferocious dragon guarding the fair maiden.
Gosh the memories...
Celestia’s ears perk up. Somepony’s coming. She whips her head around to to see a mangy, orange earth pony mare walking towards her.
“Oh, why hello there, little filly.” Celestia says warmly. She‘d always loved little children. They were so innocent. So full of life. “What are you doing out here?”
The earth pony stops and stares. Its patchy hide is stretched over her skeleton like thin rubber. Saliva drips from its blood-stained muzzle.
“Don’t be shy, little one. I won’t bite.” Celestia bursts into uproarious laughter for a second, then finally manages to calm herself down. “Say,” she leans over to the emaciated pony. “Would you like to play a game of tag with me?”
For a second, the earth pony just stands there, as if trying to make her mind. Finally, she rummages through her stained, smelly saddlebag. A chunk of stinking, bloody meat plops out; the pony quickly tucks it back in and pulls out a crude knife hammered from the remains of a sign.
Giggling, Celestia touches her right fore hoof to the pony’s muzzle. “You’re it!”
With that, the princess gallops down the ash dunes, giggling like a schoolfilly. The earth pony chases after the alicorn princess like a timber wolf chasing a rabbit, slashing wildly with her scrap-metal knife.
Celestia effortlessly dodges the pony’s desperate slashes.
“Missed me!”
“Missed me again!”
She laughs.
Another swipe with the knife. “Oh, so close!” Celestia giggles impishly. She hasn’t had this much fun in ages! The alicorn splashes into the ash-choked river, sending up sprays of slate-grey water. “Hope you don’t mind getting a little wet.”
The earth pony apparently doesn’t care about getting wet. She follows the princess into the river, her glazed eyes filled with ravenous hunger.
Something catches Celestia’s fore hoof. The princess trips and falls face-first into the ashy ground. Snarling in triumph, the earth pony’s knife flashes, and a hot needle drags itself across Celestia’s flank. A thin line of blood appears above the Princess’ faded cutie mark.
“Oh, looks like you got me!” Celestia rolls out of the way of another slash, wincing as her enhanced alicorn physiology seals the wound. “Now I’m it!”
A lemon glow builds up around the princess’ horn. The earth pony stops. For a second, the hunger disappears from its eyes.
“P-princess?” she croaks.
FWAP!
The horn flashes like the flashbulb of a mountain-sized camera. Clouds of superheated dust and ash are lifted skyward. When the light clears, all that’s left of the pony is a charred skeleton and the smell of burning pork.
“You’re it again!” Celestia cheers. A breeze picks up. The skeleton slowly starts to disintegrate into grey, flour-like ash.
Well, you did it. You just killed one of the last remnants of the pony race.
Celestia moans. Her head starts to pound like a kettledrum.
“I. Dont. Know. What. You’re. Talking. About.” She says through clenched teeth.
Look at that thing you just "tagged". Go on, look at it.
Celestia complies. Anything to make the Voice shut up.
Now tell me, does that look like a filly to you?
Something lifts inside the Princess’ head. For a second, she feels something lift from her mind, as if a pony had just drawn a curtain in her head. Her shrunken stomach heaves and churns.
Nonononononono! The Princess breathes rapidly. Her heart beats as if it’s trying to force its way out of her chest. It can’t be. It can’t be!
The curtain mercifully shuts itself. The charred pony turns into an innocent, sleeping filly. Celestia breathes a huge sigh of relief.
“It wasn’t real...”
Her relief is cut short by her old friend the Rasp. Celestia clutches her head: the Rasp is strong right now, stronger than it’s been in a long, long time. Doubt eats at her thoughts like acid; for a brief second, she believes that maybe, just maybe, the Voice was telling the truth.
“No!” With a force of will over two millennia in the making, Celestia pushes the doubts back into the depths of her mind, like a monster being cast back into Tartarus.
Panting for breath, Celestia checks the grayish blob in the sky.
“Horseapples!” She curses; she was supposed to meet with some petitioners before dusk!
The Princess turns to the remains of the Earth pony. “Sorry, my little pony...” She twists her legs together. ”... but I’ve got a few itty bitty things to do back at the castle.”
She pats the skeleton on the forehead, the charred bone crumbles at her touch. “Maybe we can play again some other time, ok?”
With that, the Princess spreads her wings, scattering white feathers everywhere, and takes off for the castle.
-
Celestia looks in the cracked hoof-mirror, trying to make herself look presentable.
“Lets see now.” Celestia puts a hoof to her chin.She could do without the makeup, but her mane could definitely use a good brushing.
Celestia’s horn glows. The bristle-less brush picks itself up and rearranges her tangled mane into something slightly less tangled.
“There, perfect!” Normally, Celestia didn't like fussing around with appearances, but protocol states that she must look her absolute best when meeting petitioners.
Even if those petitioners are long dead.
“Alright, there we go.” Celestia tucks the mirror away. She turns to a familiar ponnequin sitting by her throne.
“Now, pay attention, Twilight.” Celestia says. “One day you’ll have petitioners of your own. You have to know the proper way to talk to them.”
The ponnequin says nothing.
“That’s my faithful student.” Celestia levitates a notebook and a quill over to the “princess”. “Get ready to take notes. It’s time.”
The princess clears her throat. “Send forth the first petitioner!”
The massive throne room doors slowly open, their rusting hinges squealing in pain. A small wheeled cart rolls in, carrying two ponnequins dressed in rags on its back.
“And who might you be?” Celestia says sweetly. “The Cloudsons’? Ok, and what seems to be the trouble?”
The princess strains her ear, listening to something only she can hear.
“Mr. and Mrs. Cloudson, I do not personally control the weather in Canterlot: that job belongs to the weather team. However, I will talk to them about diverting rain away from your house until you can fix your roof.”
The cart squeaks back out the doors, then reenters.
“And who might you be?” Celestia asks
“C’mon now, don’t be shy.“ Celestia starts laughing, as if her attempt at consolation was incredibly hilarious.
“The Kennicolts? I see. What seems to be the trouble?” She pauses for a moment, listening to an imaginary voice.
“I’m sorry,” Celestia says apologetically, “but I can’t do anything about your noisy neighbors.” She whips her tail around. “You’ll just have to work it out with them. “
I’m sure they’ll be able to work it out.
Celestia groans. Not here. Not now.
“Excuse me one second.” Celestia turns around on her throne. “What do you want now?”
Same thing I always want: for you to snap out of this delusion and face facts.
“Delusion, what delusion?” Celestia starts giggling again. “I am perfectly capable of telling fantasy from reality!”
The Voice gives its equivalent of a sigh. Celestia, none of those petitioners are real. That “Twilight Sparkle” isn’t real. Those “petitioners” weren’t real. Nothing in this crazy delusion is real!
“Horseapples!” Celestia yells. “I’m not delusional. Everything here is perfectly normal!”
Lets review your behavior as of lately: violent mood swings, body contortions, inappropriate laughter. If you remember your psychology lessons, those are the textbook signs of insanity. Therefore, you must be insane.
“I’m not crazy!” Celestia shouts. “I’m just a little tired.”
Silence, then... What do you say we put that to the test?
Celestia raises an eyebrow. This is new. “What do you mean?"
See that scrap of paper over there?
Celestia turns to see a yellowed piece of paper lying on the ground.
I want you to ask Twilight to pick up that piece of paper and throw it to you.
“Why? What will that accomplish?”
Just do it. The Voice demands. Its voice grows softer If you do, I promise I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.
Celestia rolls her eyes. “Alright, fine!” Anything to get the Voice off her back. “Twilight, could you please pick up that scrap of paper right there?”
Nothing. The ponnequin just stands there.
“Twilight, please pick up that scrap of paper.” Celestia says, a bit harder this time
Still nothing.
Celestia’s voice grows stern. “Twilight, I order you to pick up that piece of paper!”
The ponnequin refuses her request again. Something inside Celestia snaps.
“Twilight Sparkle, you will pick up that piece of paper or I will personally throw you in the dungeons!”
Once again, the ponnequin ignores her.
For half an eye-blink, a fog lifts from Celestia’s mind. She sees the world for what it truly is, not the facade that her shattered mind has built for her.
Celestia opens her mouth to gasp... and the fog quickly returns. The shattered throne room instantly repairs itself. The ponnequin turns back into a smiling Twilight Sparkle.
Celestia lifts the scrap of paper and plops it in front of her forelegs.
“There, you see?! Twilight picked up the piece of paper! Now will you go?!”
The Voice gives another one of its sighs. So close. So close, yet so far.
Well, I am a mare of my word. Goodbye, Celestia. I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time. Same place.
With that, the Voice disappears. To Celestia’s immense relief, the Rasp has left as well. No doubt ravages her brain.
Satisfied that her unwanted guest is gone, Celestia returns her attention to her petitioners.
“Send in the next petitioner!”
The cart squeaks back out the doors, then reenters again, and again, and again. Each time it earns another alias: “Mr and Mrs. Goodpony”, “Mr. Steinbuck”, “The Sparks”. Each with their own imaginary requests.
Finally, the cart rolls back out the doors for good. The throne room doors close and Celestia takes a deep breath. She turns to Twilight, “Well, Twilight, what do you think? Do you think you’ll be able to handle having your own petitioners some day?”
The ponnequin just stands there. If it has an opinion, it’s keeping it to itself.
Celestia lets out a chuckle, which quickly escalates into hysterical laughter. “Oh yes, I know that it can be a pain sometimes, but it’s our duty to aid our subjects when they need it. Do you understand?”
An antique clock chimes, its hands point to an embellished silvery moon. “Oh my, it looks like it’s time for me to lower the sun!” The princess’ horn glows yellow, and the gray smudge dips below the horizon, turning the sky to ink. Celestia pats the ponnequin on the head, causing it to rock slightly. “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you now, Twilight.” The princess yawns, “I’m pretty out of it.”
The ponnequin says nothing. “Goodnight, my faithful student.”
With that, Celestia walks out of the throne room and climbs the half-ruined steps to Luna’s bedchambers.
“Luna?” Celestia raps on the splintering ebony door. “Luna, it’s time to raise the moon.”
There’s no response. Celestia pushes open the decorated door and steps in. The moment she opens it, her nostrils fill with the sickly-sweet scent of rotting meat.
“Luna?” Celestia trots up to the Night princess‘s decaying bed, completely ignoring the stench. “Luna are you alright?”
The lump on the bed remains perfectly still.
“C’mon Luna, I know you must be tired, but you simply must get up!”
Celestia walks up to the sleeping princess. She gives the body a gentle shake, then grabs the sheets and rips them off, revealing the motionless body of Princess Luna.
Celestia puts a hoof on the decaying hide, shaking it gently. The decaying flesh feels like leather under her hooves. “C’mon Luna, get up!” She flips the pony over, revealing Luna’s partially-rotten face, forever frozen in a macabre smile. A length of decaying rope dangles around her neck like a hemp necklace.
“What’s that, Luna?” Celestia puts her ear to the corpse’s lipless mouth. “You’re still sick?” For some reason, the Princess finds this hilarious. It takes all of her willpower not to burst into laughter.
“That’s alright, sister. I’ll raise the moon for you.” With that, Celestia steps over to the tower balcony and stands on the railing. Her horn glows a lemon color. She can feel the ball of rock rise over the horizon, but she can’t see it at all.
With the moon successfully raised, Celestia trots over to her lifeless sister and plants a kiss on its forehead, her body revolting at the taste of rotting meat.
With that, Celestia flies over to her own tower and curls up on her bed.
“Good night, sweet sister.”
And with that, Princess Celestia, the first and last ruler of Equestria, falls asleep.
