The long May twilight faded into night. Canterlot lay enveloped in darkness but for the dim light of the moon that shone through fleecy clouds, casting a pale light as of approaching dawn over the streets and the dark buildings of the city. Around the towers of the two sisters, the heavy magic blasts roared. Here and there through the city, magic bolts and spears broke the silence of the night, spasmodically, like dogs barking on lone apple farms. Solar and Lunar empire guards were waging war against each other.
On a rooftop near the center of town, a Solar guard lay in cover. Beside her lay her golden helmet, covered with soot from a nearby fire and over her shoulders were a pair of field glasses. Her face was the face of a leader, thin and ascetic, but her mane had the golden gleam of the fanatic. Her eyes were deep and thoughtful, the eyes of a princess who is used to looking at death.
Celestia was eating a sandwich hungrily. She had eaten nothing since morning. She had been too excited to eat. She finished the sandwich, and, taking a flask of water from her pouch, she took a short drought. Then she returned the bottle to her pouch. She paused for a moment, considering whether she should risk looking over the edge. It was dangerous. Her mane might be seen in the darkness, and there were Lunar guards everywhere. She decided to take the risk.
Placing her head slightly over the edge, she took a peak at her surroundings. She quickly looked at the city ruins around her, down the streets where a small fight was taking place. Almost immediately, a blue magic blast put itself against the parapet of the roof. Celestia quickly put her head back behind the cover of the roof. She swore softly and crawled away to the left.
Cautiously she raised herself and peered over the parapet. There was a flash and a magic bolt whizzed over her head. She dropped immediately. She had seen the flash. It came from the opposite side of the street.
She crawled over the roof to a chimney stack in the rear, and slowly drew herself up behind it, until her eyes were level with the top of the parapet. There was nothing to be seen--just the dim outline of the opposite housetop against the black and blue sky. Her enemy was under cover.
Just then a dozen hoove steps came from the street below and advanced slowly up the street. The guards stopped on the opposite side of the street, fifty yards ahead. Celestia could hear the faint murmuring of the guards. Her heart beat faster. She knew they were guards, but didn't know if they were Solar or Lunar. She wanted to fire, but she knew it was useless. If she took the shot, she would either cost lives of her guards, or get fired upon the Lunar guard atop the roof across the street. She then heard the guards turn the corner and advance towards the small fight she had seen earlier.
Suddenly from the opposite roof a magic blast rang out and Celestia dropped down to the ground with a curse. Celestia thought the noise would wake the dead. She went to pick the bottle that had fallen out of her pouch up, but she couldn't lift her arm up. Her forearm was dead. "I'm hit," she muttered.
Dropping flat onto the roof, she crawled back to the parapet. With her left hoove, she felt the injured right forearm. The blood was oozing through the cracks of her armor. There was no pain--just a deadened sensation, as if the arm had been cut off.
Quickly she used her magic, and carefully took off the right arm armor piece, setting it on the ground. There was a small red, singeing mark on where the blast had hit her. On the other side there was no scratch or mark that signed it was a clean cut through. The magic bolt had hit her hard in the arm. It must have fractured it. She bent her arm below the wound, the arm bent back easily. She ground her teeth to overcome the pain.
Then taking out her towel, she ripped off a small section with her magic. She broke the neck of her alcohol bottle and let the bitter fluid drip into the wound. A paroxysm of pain swept through her. She placed a cotton wadding over the wound and wrapped the dressing over it. She then tied the ends with her magic.
Celestia lay still against the parapet, and, closing her eyes, she made an effort of will to overcome the pain.
In the street beneath all was still. The guards had rushed over to the small fight across the street, with the faint screams and exploding blasts off in the distance. She remembering the awful memories of the past 3 years this war has been going on, the sorrow, the screams, the torture. Innocent ponies dying for a war they didn't cause, but she couldn't bear remembering her faithful student dying because of this. She watched as she saw her die right in front of her eyes. Her legs being snapped backwards, her back being crushed, but Celestia burst into tears when her skull was crushed into the tile of the throne room, and she remembered who had killed Twilight. Her own sister.
Celestia lay still for a long time nursing her wounded arm and planning escape. Lunar guards must not find her wounded on the roof. The enemy on the opposite roof covered her escape. She must kill that Lunar guard. Then she thought of a plan.
Taking off her helmet, she placed it over the top of her horn. Then she pushed her helmet slowly upward over the parapet, until the golden armor was visible from the opposite side of the street. Almost immediately there was a report, and a bolt of magic made contact with the helmet. Celestia slanted her horn forward. The helmet clipped down into the street. Then, resting her head on the parapet, she let her mane lose its flow and color, making herself look dead, lifeless. After a few moments she sank to the roof, dragging her head and mane with her.
Crawling quickly to her hooves, she peered up at the corner of the roof. Her ruse had succeeded. The Lunar guard, seeing the golden helmet fall, thought that he had killed his target. He was now standing before a row of chimney pots, looking across, with his helmet clearly silhouetted against the western sky.
Celestia smiled and lifted her horn above the edge of the parapet. The distance was about fifty yards--a hard shot in the dim light, and her right arm was paining her like a thousand devils. She lowered her head, and took a steady aim. Her head trembled with eagerness. Biting her lower lip, she took a deep breath through her nostrils and fired. She was almost deafened with the report and her head shook with the recoil.
Then when the smoke cleared, she peered across and uttered a cry of joy. Her enemy had been hit. He was reeling over the parapet in his death agony. He struggled to keep his hoofing, but he was slowly falling forward as if in a dream. The helmet fell from his grasp, hit the parapet, fell over, bounded off the pole of a flower's shop beneath and then clattered on the pavement.
Then the dying stallion on the roof crumpled up and fell forward. The body turned over and over in space and hit the ground with a dull thud. Then it lay still.
Celestia looked at her enemy falling and she shuddered. The lust of battle died in her. She became bitten by remorse. The sweat stood out in beads on her muzzle and forehead. Weakened by her wound and the long summer day of fasting and watching on the roof, she revolted from the sight of the shattered mass of her dead enemy. Her teeth chattered, she began to gibber to herself, cursing the war, cursing herself, cursing everypony.
She looked at her smoking horn, and with an oath she shot a magic bolt down in the streets below. The bolt bounced off a broken piece of shattered glass, and whizzed past Celestia's head. She was frightened back to her senses by the shock. Her nerves steadied. The cloud of fear scattered from her mind and she laughed.
Taking the water flask from her pouch, she emptied it in a drought. She felt reckless under the influence of the moon. She decided to leave the roof now and look for her guards, to report. Everywhere around was quiet. There was not much danger going through the streets. She picked up her helmet and put it back on her head. Then she crawled down through the skylight to the house underneath.
When Celestia reached the laneway on the street level, she felt a sudden curiosity as to the identity of the enemy Lunar guard whom she had killed. She decided that he was a good shot, whoever he was. She wondered if she knew him. Perhaps he had been in her own company before the split in the war. She decided to risk going over to have a look at him. She peered around the corner into an old part of the city. In the upper part of the street there was heavy firing, but around here all was quiet.
Celestia darted across the street. Seven Lunar guards started to rip up the ground around her with a hail of magic blasts and spears, but she escaped. She threw herself face downward beside the corpse. The bolts of magic stopped.
Then Celestia turned over the dead body and took off her helmet. Tears swelled up in her eyes, as she looked into her sister's face.
