Chapter Three

Malum

A thousand years ago, there was a war between Nightmare Moon and Princess Celestia. Officially, Princess Luna became Nightmare Moon when she grew jealous of the attention and praise her sister got. No one appreciates the night, after all.

When the war ended with Nightmare Moon being sent to the moon and Celestia being the triumphant hero, she made certain that only her side of the war was well-documented. Any records of what Nightmare Moon did was either destroyed or altered. History belongs to the victors, after all.

After I helped the Mane Six exile Nightmare Moon, Princess Celestia let me keep my family history book as a gesture of trust. This ancient book, bound in thousand-year old leather, contained forbidden knowledge. Only my family, of which I am the single surviving member, knew of the ways our once-worshiped goddess of the night gained power during the war.

Nightmare Moon wanted Equestria to be a land of eternal night where the dead never leave. Everyone is equal when they are dead, my father once told me.

In order for her to gain enough magic to win the war, ponies from all three races had to be tortured to death in specific ways to ensure the most amount of pain and bloodshed was bestowed upon our goddess.

“It may seem horrible to some that so many ponies had to die in those seemingly sadistic ways,” my dad once told me. “But it was love that drove Nightmare Moon’s ambitions.”

“Love? Do you mean the love she felt for her followers?”

Ivory chuckled at my naive question. He pulled out the family book and flipped through the worn pages. “No, little Equus. It was for a love that burned even brighter. Even all-powerful beings can become smitten. Just look at this passage from the scripture of Quietus Mortis.”

I marveled at the elegant old-world cursive writing and began to read.

“The multi-beasted one doth bestow upon our goddess of the night limitless pleasures. He whispers in her ears secrets that none but her shall know. He is not of our world, but he is a part of hers.”

There was a wood-carving under the passage. Nightmare moon was hugging what looked like a huge horned snake with mismatched animal legs and horns. Even with the clumsy art-style and awkward perspective, it was obvious that Nightmare Moon was rubbing uglies with Discord.

This book was (supposedly) the one remaining copy of the Mortis family history book. Princess Celestia had all the other copies destroyed to keep their secrets from corrupting future generations. She had to have known about Nightmare Moon’s affair with…

Wait a minute. Nightmare Moon wasn’t wearing her armor. The kludgy art was difficult to squint at, but it seemed like her pupils were round, as if she were still Princess Luna. How long did they know each other?

That’s one of many details that were scrubbed clean from Equestria's history, my dad explained. “Long before she ascended into beauty, she was in love with the creature now known as Discord. That was a name Celestia gave him after he was turned into stone. His true name is lost to history, for not even Nightmare Moon told her followers.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Once you know someone’s true name, you begin to control them. Only our goddess was granted that liberty. Nightmare Moon still loved Discord even after his imprisonment. Her love caused her to rebel against her sister. That’s what love can do, my son. It can change history.”

“But Nightmare Moon needed the Elements of Harmony to get him turned back to normal, right?”

Ivory smiled at me. It was rare to get one of those from him. Most of the time, he just looked past me as if I were a ghost.

“Exactly. That’s not found in any history book, Equus. Not any official ones, anyway.”

“Why keep that a secret?”

He shrugged. “Fear, I suppose. Fear that someone might still revive Discord. One truth that is in the official history books is that Discord severely damaged the fabric of reality in Equestria. Have you ever wondered why Celestia and Luna didn’t send Discord to the moon?”

“I… never thought of that. Well, I suppose Discord would simply fly back here and wreak havoc again.”

“Not exactly. According to the writings of Macero Mortis, Celestia wanted Discord silenced so that she could reunite with her sister. He would eventually come back from the moon, so the statue option was used. The goddess of the sun was jealous of Luna’s happiness, you see.”

I raised a brow. “Jealous?”

“Oh, yes. All of reality was twisted and warped like warm clay, for that was Discord’s way of making Luna happy. He was a peculiar creature, but his heart was in the right place. He made towns float and pigs fly. Chocolate milk rained from the sky along with countless other wonders because he wanted to impress her.”

“And Celestia wanted everything back to the way things were before he showed up.”

Dad smiled. “Just like any other despot you care to name, Princess Celestia, the oh-so-sacred goddess of the sun, has always wanted everything her way. She never cared for her sister’s happiness. Once Luna realized that harsh truth, she began to rebel.”

“Didn’t both Celestia and Luna use the Elements on Discord?”

“Another lie, designed to make her sister look like a tragic figure, fallen from grace because of temptations from a ‘diabolical otherworldly monster.’”

He snorted in contempt. “Quite a bit of history reads like some tacky pony-dreadful magazine, doesn’t it, son? Celestia changed Discord into a statue after making sure that her sister was asleep. Once our goddess found out about Celestia’s betrayal, the war officially began.”

“I bet Celestia felt as lonely as her sister after she was exiled to the moon.”

“Small consolation for our goddess. Especially since Celestia had to share her power with the other pony races, something she loathed to do. Tyrants do not willingly give up their power, after all.”

“I was never told that the Princess controlled the weather.”

Ivory frowned impatiently. “I’m telling you Equestria’s unofficial history, remember?”

“So the pegasi city of Cloudsdale was able to exist only because Celestia couldn't fix the weather damage Discord left behind.”

“Not without her sister’s help, no. Typical shortsightedness of a selfish ruler.”

“The earth ponies help keep the soil healthy and help make the seasons change. I was told they could always do that.”

He gave me a knowing smile. “Are you beginning to see why I and others don’t hold Celestia in as high a regard as millions of other ponies?”

“Haven’t unicorns always been magic users?”

“True, but Celestia needed a race that could harness the loose, wayward magic for daily use. Otherwise it would coalesce and possibly wreak havoc.”

I don’t know why I held onto this memory of our talk so close to my heart. Maybe it was because talking about history was one of the few times I could get my father excited enough to talk to me. He seemed much happier when I was a child.

* * *

When I was recovering in the hospital after our fight in the castle, I tried to not even think of my dad. Between walking in on his self-sacrificed corpse in his apartment and later breaking his neck after he smashed two of my legs, Ivory Mortis was somepony I tried to push as far away from my thoughts as possible, especially since the next four months of recovery were demoral-izing, boring and painful, thanks to him.

But I couldn’t help but wonder…

Did Ivory always have the will to kill me? He wrote a lot in his journals, which were still in his Manehattan apartment. Well, legally speaking, my Manehattan apartment, since I was his sole heir.

Perhaps reading his private memoirs would help me figure out where my father went wrong, if he was ever right in the head to begin with.

Maybe then I’d finally understand why he couldn’t (or wouldn’t) walk away from the graveyard and remarry. In that one small way we were both alike. The past holds comfort. Even pain has a familiarity that can comfort.

There’s an old saying which claimed that any action done out of love goes beyond good or evil.

What my father did in order to bring his beloved wife back from the dead resulted in his ritualized suicide, Rainbow Dash’s murder, Pinkie Pie’s imprisonment and two of my legs getting broken.

What Nightmare Moon did in order to get her beloved Discord back from his statue-state ensured her exile, and the world never being the same again.

It’s frightening how much evil is committed in the name of love. I have lost count as to how many ponies I have examined and then buried that were murdered in a lover’s rage.

Or in a fit of jealousy.

I never imagined Princess Celestia, the most powerful being in the world, being jealous of anypony. Even her sister. Even while contemplating my family’s bias towards Nightmare Moon, I had to wonder if Celestia had the right to turn Discord into stone, even considering the damage he caused.

Maybe that was the problem. When someone says “I have no choice,” that can rationalize any number of catastrophic decisions.

I flipped through the family book’s pages until I found the scripture of Macero Mortis.

“One of the many delights the many-beasted one procured, apart from the carnal, was a drink that no wine or milk could compare to. This miraculous beverage, which flowed with all the colors of nature, brought vim and vigor to all who consumed it. Luna and Celestia were unable to resist the stranger’s licentious attentions once they drank his concoction.”

I tried to shake those images out and kept reading.

“This would lead to his downfall, however, as the fluid made Celestia’s magic and her jealousy burn like the sun she commands. Once he was made as stone, the secret behind the drink was lost forever. This loss only helped drive the chasm between the two sisters ever wider, for once this miraculous liquid is consumed, one can never escape its insidious grip. The yearning for the colorful liquor can drive one to maddening distraction.”

Now I was imagining Celestia and Luna being crashed out of their eternal minds on this stuff. Nightmare Moon was only slightly less terrifying.

I had a feeling that the princess would be less than thrilled to be reminded of those dark days of addiction, but I had to report this to her.

Someone stole Discord’s statue for a reason. Someone was making Discord’s addictive liquor again for a reason. A scientist with a gut-full of that drink was murdered for a reason.

If someone out there already knew how to make Discord’s formula, why did they even need him? It’s not as if they could just pour it down his open mouth and…

Oh, no.

Revive him.

Author's Note

Latin lesson #3 Malum (crime, evil misfortune)
Soundtrack for this chapter: "Lontanto" by Gyorgy Ligetio (The Shining soundtrack)