Nightmare

The world burned all around her. Smoke filled her lungs as she tried to breathe. Her coughs, however, were a heaven sent miracle, painful as they were. They meant she was alive. She tried to stand, but her body roared with furious pain, her muscles threatening to abandon her all together. The scent of blood filled her nostrils as she remembered her wounds.

A great maw of severed flesh and torn muscle yawned across her breast. Her eyes itched with dust and sand as she squinted through their swollen lids. Her horn had snapped and sent waves of fire through her head and neck. Her mane and tail had been nearly burned off of her, and she was sure at least one leg was broken.

“Tia...” Came a soft whisper from somewhere to her left. The voice, though muffled by blood, she recognized as her sister's. Turning her head, she saw a fuzzy mound of blue and red fur lying crumpled on the cracked earth. “Luna!” she cried, though it barely came out as a croak.

She began to crawl for her sister, each foot a thousand miles for the agony it gave her. When she finally reached her, her breath caught in her throat. If her own injuries could be called serious, Luna's would be mortal. Her sister looked at her, a hazy glaze over her eyes. “Is... is it over?” she asked.

Celestia gazed around herself for the first time. Fire was everywhere, as were bodies. Bodies of friends and foes alike, dead or dying. The sounds of battle still raged, the clatter of iron and steel sending her ears to ringing. Somewhere a war-horn sounded. Just off to her left lay a truly massive Minotaur, Calphir she recalled, battleaxe still in hand and cleaved from shoulder to sternum. Both of the horns that had decorated his head stood shattered and he was missing an eye, but his boorish smile was still plastered across his face.

Tears began to slide down her cheeks and she shut her eyes as tightly as she could. Not right now. Not when she should be standing. Her legs and hooves shuddered as she rose. Halfway up she buckled, but Calphir's smile forced her legs to stiffen, and her jaw to clench.

Now she could see them all. Young Wild Fire, the colt who dreamed of being a knight, lying with a spear in his belly. General Goldhoof surrounded by the more than thirty it had taken to bring the old stallion down. To her right lay gentle Prince Somber Reign, moaning but thankfully not dead. Next to him was another friend, Crystal. She too was alive, but barely. A great cut ran across her once beautiful face. Brikken was studded with arrows.

She would have wept for them then and there were it not for a shrill, stunted laugh from where she had previously lain. Though she had scarce noticed him before, now she saw that Rend had fallen there to. What grey fur of his that was left was matted and splotchy with grime. His mismatched eyes swollen and bloodshot. Blood burst from his mouth as he laughed again. She would have been angry with him, but there was no humor in his voice. It was a laugh of failure and defeat.

“No sister. It is not.”

Finally she turned to see the only one left. The one who had struck them all down.

She turned to Wrath, and his eyes of fire.

Celestia approached Wrath slowly. Each step fire. Each step blood.

Wrath stood with easy grace. He was not like any being that Celestia had ever seen before, nor would ever see again. A nightmare made flesh and metal, he stood upon two armored legs that ended in clawed feet. His raven-like wings stretched from his back and cast the world into shadow. His arms were bare, muscled things that were covered in burns and scars that ran all across his chest, red and angry. In his hands were a pair of blades, oddly simple and made of steel, that were caked with blood and gore. His face was hidden behind a featureless porcelain mask.

All but his eyes.

“One still stands” he said, his voice deep and harsh.

Celestia trembled to hear him speak. She stopped moving just out of his reach. To her credit, she did not cower, though it took her incredible effort. Instead, she stared right into those eyes of his. His burning eyes.

His eyes of fire.

Still Celestia held her ground. She gave him a simple nod in response, which sent him into a fit of laughter. Never had she hated him more than in that moment. Not because he was laughing at her. She was sure he wasn't. No, he was laughing at her friends who could not stand.

Fury had never motivated Celestia before, but now it pulsed through her like her own blood. She leapt at Wrath, swinging her hooves wildly. He simply stepped to the side and let her carry herself past him. Celestia would not be deterred though, as she flung herself at him again and again.

Soon enough Wrath grew bored with their game of tag. The final time she leapt he swatted her with the broad side of both blades. Celestia barely registered what was happening before pain shot up her spine and rendered her unable to move.

Time seemed to slow as Wrath strolled to where she lay, and she finally felt true fear. But more so she felt her own failure. She had lost. Everybody had died for nothing. It was over.

Is that really all you've got pipsqueak?

Celestia's ears poked up rapidly. She turned her head frantically trying to find where the question had come from. She wanted to tell whoever had said it that, yes this was all she had and screw them. She saw nobody but Calphir.

Just Calphir and his axe. Only a couple of feet away.

Its not going to get any closer if you just sit there and wait to die.

And there was the voice again. This time she knew who it was. Only one being could both injure her pride and strengthen her resolve simultaneously. On shaky hooves she began to crawl towards him. In just a few moments, though it felt like hours, she reached out and grasped the handle of Calphir's huge axe. But she knew it was too late.

Wrath stood over her, blades raised to strike. “You did well Celestia. I thank you for the sport.”

The whirling sound of death and metal. The blinding blue light. A scream of pain.

Celestia was stunned, staring at Luna standing in front of her in disbelief. Luna's blast had knocked Wrath back a few steps, and the surprise was evident. “You will not touch her.” Luna said. It was not a demand, but a statement of fact. Wrath regathered himself quickly.

“Oh really?” He said as he stepped forward.

Damaged as she was, Luna should not have been able to use any magic in the first place, let alone teleporting as she had. Yet the moment Wrath's foot hit the ground her magic revved to life. A deafening blast of blue energy shot from the shattered tip of Luna's horn and straight into Wrath. Once again he staggered, but this time Luna appeared to be done talking. A second blast followed by a third, then a fourth. All hitting their marks.

Celestia stared in absolute awe at her sister. Luna was standing. Luna was fighting.

Luna was winning.

Blood dripping down her sister's cheek. Fresh blood. From her horn. Luna's legs were beginning to shake, as if they could give out any moment. Luna wasn't winning.

She was stalling.

Celestia renewed her grip on Calphir's axe. The handle was cold, slick with blood, and it was immensely heavy. She tried with all of her physical might to lift it, but could not. Luna could not wait any longer. Wrath was, albeit slowly, making his way to them.

Her horn lit with magic. Her entire body erupted with the sensation of thousands of white hot spikes being shoved carelessly into her. Her vision began to blur, and her breath began heavier and more ragged than it already was. Her limbs felt weak, and sleep, true sleep, was calling her to it.

And the axe began to lift.

She kept her grip on the handle and strengthened her magic. She turned back to Luna. Wrath was over her now, and she did not seem to have another shot in her.

“Luna!”

She wasn't sure if Luna heard her or not, but a final ear shattering blast rang from her sister's horn. Wrath crossed his blades, ready to take the blow head on, but it was off that mark. It went low. Towards his feet.

A crash. A tyrant falling to his knees in shock.

And Celestia struck.

Calphair's axe buried itself in Wrath's head, grinding through mask and bone. All was still for that moment, as if time itself had been stunned into silence. Celestia made sure to look at Wrath one last time before he died. Right into his eyes. His burning eyes. His eyes of fire.

Now put out.