The Atlas

The Abyss, eh?

What a place to be sent to, Twilight... Well, you don’t have to go, exactly; the Chaos caused by the leakage of the Abyss would be wonderful! For a while, at least...

And no, Celestia can’t come. Celestia and the Dark cannot mix, just as oil and water do not mix- though Celestia doesn’t combust on contact with the Dark or water. Yes, she can cast Dark Magic, but has she ever truly drawn upon the Dark? No, I think not. I can’t go there, of course; as fun as it would be to go on an adventure with you.

Now, I don’t enjoy being serious, but I will be for just a moment. You won’t survive long down there without a weapon of great power, something powerful enough to cut through magic itself...

Deep below the Castle, Beyond the Black Door....

“Are you sure, Sister?” asked Luna. The source of her worry was a weapon held gingerly in an aura of sunlight. “Of all the things in the Vault, this may be one of the most deadly...”

Godsend, as it was dubbed, truly could be the weapon of a God. The grip was the length of Celestia’s horn; its crossguard a crescent shaped piece of metal that transitioned from a silvery grey to a brilliant white. The blade itself was no less brilliant: it was long, golden, and shimmered with an unearthly power. It was made for a very different creature, but it still served its purpose: to slay that which is Immortal.

“I know the legends, Luna. Most have a shard of truth in them somewhere, however obscured... I have been thinking of how to protect Twilight in the Abyss, and Godsend gives her the greatest chance of survival... if she is taught how to use it.” Celestia slid Godsend gently into a scabbard of White Steel, one of the few magic-resistant materials strong enough to not be split by the sword.

“Descending into the Abyss alone with such a vile weapon is suicide,” argued Luna, stamping a hoof in anger. Alone... she thought.

“Perhaps if I were to accompany her? I would be able to protect her from Godsend, should anything... manifest. My experience with the Abyss could prove useful as well.” Luna shuddered at the memory.

Celestia shook her head, opening her mouth to argue before thinking better of it. “Here is not the place to talk, Luna. We should continue this outside the Vault.” She glanced at a door in the Vault briefly, worried for only a fraction of a second.

“Indeed,” agreed Luna, her nerves fraying.

“Twilight cannot go alone, Sister,” said Luna. As the doors to Celestia’s chambers swung shut, she finished, “You know as well as I do that to enter the Abyss, untainted by the Dark... Even with the vile sword Godsend at her side, there are... things... that cannot be felled without letting the Dark in.”

“Then what would you have her wield?” questioned Celestia, “Primus is holding the Seal in the Everfree, and Archangel cannot be reforged after...”

Luna looked down, her expression unreadable. “After the Nightmare tired to kill you with it.” In the Nightmare’s confidence, she had overlooked that the sword Archangel could not be used to kill unjustly. “This is my fault.”

“I...” Celestia’s mask of calm cracked, and words came leaking out, the words of a heart broken over and over but refused to let go of love. “I don’t want to lose you again, Luna. I know that you should go, but.... I don’t want you to go...”

Sister to sister, Luna lay a hoof on Celestia’s shoulder. “It is not me you should be worrying about, sister. I can hold my own in the Abyss...” She left the implications unvoiced, hoping to draw her sister away from her worries, away from sadness.

Though her mask fused at the seams again, her heart was still laid bare for all to see. “Though I hate to send Twilight into the Abyss at all, she is our only viable choice. Barring the Atlas opening again, at least...” Trailing off, she looked to the sheathed Godsend.

“Godsend had no will of its own, Luna. It is a thoroughly despicable weapon, but it is needed. Even the Seal on the Everfree lets things through occasionally; several such incidents have required the use of Godsend. It cut through flesh, earth, and metal as a knife would through soft cheese.

No, the real danger of Godsend is that it is too much for most to handle without going mad. Twilight, though, will be able to cope.”

Luna smiled faintly. “So I shall go with her. I swear that we will both return alive to a world untained by the Abyss.”

They hugged tightly, casting aside the prop of words. Celestia wished to be selfish, just this once, but she could not be. The world was yet again on Twilight’s shoulders, and this time her friends could not be there to share it.

Luna dreaded going back into the Abyss with the vile sword Godsend at their side, but she would willingly... for the sake of Twilight. For the sake of the world. What she feared was not the Dark; she feared that which dwelled within it and the hearts of every creature. Grimacing, she knew that once again, she would take up arms when she had sworn never to kill again.

Such broken promises were easy things for the Nightmare to cling to.

Godsend, the Sword of Souls. A blade steeped in a history mostly unknown to even Twilight, a sword bathed in the blood of gods. Unfortunately, references to Godsend were few and far between; each time at a turning point in history.

“Just what are you?” She asked the sword rhetorically, still mystified and intrigued by it. At the moment, it lay on her desk in its sheath- the blade itself made Twilight nervous.

Godsend did not respond, of course; for all its power it was still just a sword. Though she had expected- no, known- that it would not talk back, some part of her was disappointed. Snorting bemusedly, she muttered, "Let's not go crazy yet, Twilight..." Tentatively touching the ancient, clothbound hilt, the only part that showed any signs of age, she mused, "But if you could... oh, the things you could tell me! A magical artifact, forged in the age where Gods walked Equus! Things that not even Discord would know."

She half-expected Discord to appear at that moment, but he didn't. Twilight assumed it was because she had expected it to happen. Perhaps this was the sword’s doing?

At the base of the Throne of Equestria stood its eldest leader, cloaked in the grim grey that veiled the room. The light of the Moon, casting itself through the stained glass, illuminated the Throne in a myriad of colors and shapes.

Celestia withdrew a broken, winged hilt from a saddlebag, wincing at the memories it brought. “Though the blade is shattered, Archangel still holds power within it,” she whispered.

Her voice shifted, and when she spoke again, it was laced with magic and enforced with a commanding tone. “By the power vested in me, I call for the help of the Gods. I offer you Archangel, Sword of Justice, in exchange for the safe passage of Twilight and Luna through the Abyss.”

As she spoke, she withdrew the other shards of the pure-white, wing-hilted sword, assembling them on the seat of the Throne. Archangel almost looked whole again, as if that horrible night over a thousand years ago had never happened.

The Gods did not stir from their slumber on prayers alone; their followers were too few for their faith to wake them. In order for Celestia’s prayer to be heard at all, she needed a powerful offering- Archangel was her best chance. Against all hopes, something answered.

A whisper of wind caressed her, winding its way through the room. For only a moment, worry crossed her mind- what if it was a creature of the Dark that heard her prayer? What if a Demon of Tartarus used it to clamber from the depths?

Her fear was lifted as a comforting warmth spread through her, the sound of a hearth’s fire echoing in the empty halls. Embers rose up from her hooves, flowing around her before surrounding the shards of Archangel. Izal had answered, something beyond her wildest imaginings.

I accept your offering. May your flame burn ever brighter, Lady of the Sun. It was an ineffable sound; it was a roaring fire and a cooling cinder; it was the voice the Goddess of Flame.

Celestia’s heart dropped as frost coated the marble floors, the room growing deathly cold. Dust rose from the Throne, writhing as if guided by a madpony’s hoof before wrapping around Archangel as well.

I accept your offering. May your fate never twist, Lady of the Sun. The sound of the dreaded Agnos, God of Endings was equally alien; she felt more than heard a voice like a river of the inevitable.

The shards of Archangel faded away, the signs of the Gods’ presence fading with it. The warmth of Izal’s flame lingered briefly, cooling to ashes in her heart.

It was a long time before the Princess of the Sun moved again, trapped in her thoughts and mired in worries.

Twilight Sparkle, you have a most extraordinary life ahead of you... One that would be cut short by the Abyss.

In you I vest an Ember. In it lies warmth and kindness and life, but also fury, hatred, and agony.

Use it well, or it will consume everything, leaving only ashes...

Ye who would command all magics, yet fall to the Dark.

In you I shall vest no power, for in the power of Endings is a curse to those who hold a mortal soul.

No, you do not need the power that only I can give. I shall give you something far more important. Something that is not mine alone.

I give you... Hope.