Princess Twilight paced in a circle around the Cutie Map, chewing on her wingtip as she eyed the map again and again. Every now and then her gaze would shift over to Spike, who sat in his stone throne reading a comic. She glanced away as soon as he looked up, eyes darting towards anything that wasn’t him.
“Twilight, you really need to calm down.”
“I can’t, Spike.”
He sighed and set the comic book down. “Are you sure it’s not all in your head? I mean, it’s not like that hasn’t happened before.” At her confused look, he began counting on his claws. “Creating a friendship problem because you haven’t written a letter in a week; thinking the world’s gonna end because a future you came to town; thinking everything falls on you because you have to write a song—”
“Okay, okay!” She waved at him as if to bat away an annoying fly. “Fine, I have gone overboard on occasion. But this is different, I know it.”
He set his chin in his claw and leaned against the table with a deadpan frown. “Right. And what makes this any different?”
“Consistency.” She set a hoof to her chest, where the gnawing feeling was most obvious. “You can’t feel the Elements, Spike, but I can. I already asked the others, and they don’t feel it, but I do. I think it’s because Magic takes its power from all the other Elements.”
“But you don’t have the Elements of Harmony anymore,” he pointed out, examining the back of his claw.
She shook her head and returned to her pacing. “That doesn’t change the fact that I bear the Element of Magic within me. It’s part of who I am, Spike, and… and it’s off. It always has been, but it’s become more pronounced lately.”
“Uh-huh.” Though he sounded disinterested, his eyes followed her keenly. “If there’s something ‘wrong’ with the Element of Magic, and you’ve been feeling it for years, why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
“Because I thought it was just me,” she replied, pausing to study the Everfree Forest on the map. “I didn’t understand my role, or my element. I figured that I was just inexperienced and would be able to fix it with time.” She sighed and turned away. “But that hasn’t happened. If anything, I think it’s growing worse.”
Now Spike leaned over the table, all doubt washed from his face. “But you could have told me at any time. How long has this been bothering you? I mean, like… really bothering you?”
“Since we beat Tirek.” She sat and rubbed her hooves together, watching the slow motion with an unfocused gaze.
Rubbing his chin, Spike stared at the tree roots hanging over them. “But if there is something wrong, why do the Elements keep working? They cured Princess Luna. They zapped Discord something fierce, and when you put them in the Tree of Harmony it responded just fine.”
Twilight nodded, but her expression didn’t ease. “I know it doesn’t make any sense, but that doesn’t change what I feel. Maybe you’re right. I hope you’re right. But if you’re not, and something’s going on with the Elements… we can’t just ignore it, can we?”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “Uh, time travel, anypony?”
“I am not ignoring this, Spike! It’s not the same thing.” She stomped and leveled him with her best lecturing frown.
He responded with a roll of the eyes… which widened as his cheeks puffed out. A second later he gave a great, flame-enriched belch.
With a satisfied smile, Twilight caught the appearing scroll in her magic the instant it materialized. “Let’s see what Celestia has to say about this.” She opened the letter and read it in silence. Her expression gradually fell. “Oh, no.”
Spike stood up in his throne, claws balling into fists. “W-what is it? Something bad?”
“That’s just it, I don’t know.”
She levitated the scroll before him and he took it in both claws. “She wants you to go to Canterlot to talk about it in detail? And alone? Why would she want that?”
Twilight sat and folded her legs to her chest. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m right. Maybe there’s something wrong.”
“Or, uh…” Spike made a show of re-reading the letter. “Or maybe she’s confused and just wants to know more about the problem. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Then why would she ask me to come alone?”
His mouth opened wide to respond, he raised a lone claw… then let it drop. “I don’t know.”
With butterflies in her stomach, Twilight wrapped her assistant in her wings and nuzzled him. “You can take care of things here. I won’t be gone long.”
He nodded, but couldn’t conjure up a smile. “Promise?”
She had no answer.
Twilight stared at the door leading to Celestia’s chambers. There was a time when that door had been a comforting sight. A warm and welcoming place she could come to if she needed help, encouragement, or just an ear to take in her worries. But Twilight wasn’t a filly anymore, and this seemed far more important than a question of magic theory, fretting over a test or the critters under the bed. She still felt it inside, that hole chewing up her heart like a parasite. Celestia would have the answer for her, surely…
So why did her letter sound so uncertain?
The guards shifted in place, and she realized she’d been standing there for some time. With the tiniest of pink blooms on her cheeks, she knocked on the door. A voice invited her in, so she entered with only a brief, hesitant pause.
Celestia’s chambers were just like Twilight remembered; the large but cozy fireplace, the lush carpet, the great window with its perfect view. How many hours had she spent here as a filly, nestled by that window as Celestia taught her complex magical theory far above the knowledge of ponies twice her age? To not smile at this familiar, comforting place would have been impossible, but the one on Twilight’s face was still subdued.
“Good afternoon, Twilight.”
The pleasant voice came from the one part of the suite that Twilight only rarely saw: the private study. Her nostalgia came to an abrupt end as she eyed the half-open door. Why would Celestia want to meet in there? Ears folded back, she made her way over and pushed the door the rest of the way open.
Celestia was sitting at her desk, a large thing made of cherry wood that had been the birthplace of countless laws, treaties, speeches and diplomatic communiqués. Yet no documents were set upon the desk today; only a thick, plain brown book that Twilight had never seen before, its hardback cover worn with age. The sight of the apparently ancient tome kicked Twilight’s uncertainty to the curb.
Celestia set her hoof atop it, almost as if afraid Twilight would try to snatch it off the desk. Which she used to do, back before she realized that was improper behavior for a young filly. Yet the concerned look on Celestia’s face said that her reasons this time were far more dire than a lack of politeness.
“Princess.” Twilight sat upon the large cushion opposite Celestia, her head low. “I came as fast as I could.”
“And I appreciate that.” The princess offered her peer a smile that, for all Twilight’s concern, appeared perfectly genuine. “You didn’t have to, though. You could have taken the train. Was the flight okay?”
“It was fine.” Twilight flexed her wings. “I’ve gotten much better with these things in the past few months.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Now would normally be the time for Celestia to get on with the purpose of this meeting, but that didn’t happen. Twilight never thought she’d see the day it happened, but her mentor and role model… fidgeted. Celestia’s eyes darted to the book, and Twilight couldn’t help but follow the glance. When she did, she noticed Celestia’s leg tense.
She could resist the temptation no more. “What is that?”
If she hadn’t heard the small gasp, hadn’t seen Celestia’s lips part slightly at just the right moment, Twilight would have sworn it was all in her head. “Princess?”
Celestia closed her eyes. Twilight could only watch as, slowly but clearly, her former mentor regained what had once been an unbreakable composure. When her eyes opened, she was the calm and serene Celestia Twilight had always known.
But the memory lingered, and even that pleasant, calming smile couldn’t ease Twilight’s fears.
“Twilight, this may be the single most important book you will ever read.”
Twilight blinked, her ears perking. She looked to Celestia, then to the book, then back. “That’s a very high claim, Princess.”
Celestia nodded. “I know, and I mean it. I’ve been holding onto it for a very long time. Originally, I had no intention of letting you even know it existed.”
“Really?” Twilight’s curiosity grew, but her anxiety remained. Torn between her bibliophilia and Celestia’s moment of weakness, she found herself inching a little closer to the desk. “So what is it? And why keep it a secret?”
“I can’t tell you.” Celestia pulled the book back. “Not until I know you’re ready. As a princess… well, you’re going to read it eventually, Twilight. I thought it would be many years before you did, but if your letter means what I think it does then it would be irresponsible of me to keep it from you.”
Licking her lips, Twilight leaned closer still. “Th-then what do I need to do to be ready?”
Celestia sighed, her smile having long faded. “First, tell me more about that feeling you wrote of. Please, Twilight, describe it as best you can. What is it like, and when did it start?”
Her anticipation alleviated by the subject change and Celestia’s concerned frown, Twilight sat upright and nodded. “It’s hard to explain. I felt it from the very beginning, after we defeated Nightmare Moon.” She pressed a hoof to her chest and took a deep breath. “There’s something off, something I can’t quite put my hoof on. Back then I didn’t understand what I felt; I figured it may be some lingering doubt or disbelief, or maybe a lack of confidence in my ability to carry my element.”
Her eyes drifted to the floor. “But then… then we fought Discord. When we used the Elements on him, the feeling came back, far more pronounced. I ignored it then, because I thought maybe it was just the lingering effects of his magic.
“I first came to think something might be wrong when we freed him for reforming.” She looked up at Celestia, whose expression had only grown more curious and concerned. “The feeling was still there. Worse, it was stronger. I realized it only came when I used the Elements with the girls. There were things I didn’t understand, and I devoted several weeks to study trying to identify the source, but since it only came when the Elements were used there was nothing to research.”
She wrapped her hooves around herself and shivered. “Then there was Tirek. Something changed after we opened that box. I managed to determine that using the Rainbow Power… well… I guess you could say me and the girls became living embodiments of the Elements. Maybe it was only for a short time, or perhaps it’s permanent, but whatever the case, we all can feel our Elements inside us.”
Her gaze met Celestia’s, and she sent through it all her doubts and uncertainty. “But that means the weakness I felt before is always there. It’s been steady and… and it’s driving me crazy. It’s like, I don’t know.” She rubbed a hoof against the side of her head. “Like… like something important, something critical is missing.”
Celestia cringed, her eyes closing tight for the briefest of moments.
“Princess?”
The senior princess nodded solemnly. “It is as I feared. Yes, Twilight, I know what is ailing you, and it is no small matter. It will change everything.”
Slumping low, Twilight gave a weak nod. “That’s what I was afraid you’d say. Will you tell me?”
“Not yet.” Celestia stood and walked about the desk. She sat next to her former protégé and wrapped a wing about her. “Twilight, in order for you to believe, you have to determine a few things. You and I will need to go somewhere; I will teleport us right now, if you’re willing. But before I do, there’s something I need you to understand.”
Twilight looked up, hoping to see a comforting smile. What she saw instead was barely concealed worry. “Y-yes?”
Celestia turned her gaze forward. She seemed to be staring at something far beyond the wall of her office. “When you know the truth, I… This will likely change our relationship forever. What you will learn cannot be unlearned. It will be up to you where we go from here.”
Never before had Twilight imagined that Celestia could be on the verge of tears over a new lesson. Indeed, she’d only seen Celestia cry once. She couldn’t imagine what might be so terrible, but she knew one thing for certain: she would always love her mentor. So, taking a moment to relive her student days, she pressed her cheek against Celestia’s barrel and looked up to give her best, most comforting smile.
“Don’t worry, Princess. Nothing can change our friendship.”
Celestia looked down at her. She made no attempt to smile, and her eyes still shined with barely controlled emotions. “I hope you’re right, Twilight. I pray it is so.” She closed her eyes and straightened her posture. “Are you ready?”
Deflating a little, Twilight mimicked her pose and nodded. “I am.”
The world flashed a familiar white. When it faded, Twilight found herself enshrouded in darkness. Giving herself a moment to reorient after the teleport, she peered around at the shadows. Celestia remained at her side, her white coat contrasting enough with the dim lighting to make her readily visible.
“Where are we?”
As their vision steadily adjusted, however, Twilight began to recognize the dirty, crumbling stone wall before her. She turned a circle, picking out more familiar features; that tree growing through the cracks in the marble floor, the way that tapestry was torn just so. “The old castle.” She looked up to Celestia. “Why are we at the old castle?”
Celestia eyed the ruins around them with a sorrowful frown. “There is something you need to see.” Without another word, or even a backwards glance, she turned and made for the door of the small space. Twilight followed at a trot, but couldn’t resist glancing back at the room. Now that she could see a little more clearly… it was nothing. Just a small, unadorned square.
So why did Celestia choose to teleport them to that specific location?
She kept her question to herself, though. There was an agitation in her former mentor, visible in her unsteady hoofsteps and the way her ears constantly swiveled about. It seemed almost as if Celestia were catching a thousand sounds beyond Twilight’s comprehension. Perhaps they were only the memories of sounds. Whatever the case, Twilight felt it would be more respectful to say nothing, even if that proved a considerable challenge for her.
Their hoofsteps echoed in the dark, the way made visible only by rare streams of light that passed through crumbling walls. Twilight had never been one to think about ghosts and other superstitious nonsense, but at that moment she couldn’t resist a sense of… wrongness. Though she detected no hint of danger, the endless silence and Celestia’s solemn manner introduced a feeling of unease, as if Twilight didn’t belong in these halls.
Every now and then, Twilight would glance at Celestia’s face. The elder princess never looked back. She didn’t look at anything. She kept her gaze straight forward. Her neck was taut, her eyes flickered with the temptation to move, but they never did.
So Twilight looked instead. She took in the ancient decorative armor that rusted on their pedestals, the hoof-shaped torch holders, the doorways devoid of actual doors. Cobwebs were everywhere, and dust kicked up with their every step.
Her imagination ran away with her as she cast glances into various rooms. She wondered if Celestia saw ghosts everywhere in this place that had once been so important to her. What if every visit to this dilapidated ruin was like a fresh blow to the heart? Did she recall names, faces, whole lives?
At last they stepped out of the hallway, and for that Twilight was pleased; she’d begun to feel claustrophobic in there. Now they were in the single most familiar room in the whole castle; the great entry hall. Her gaze fell upon the old structure that had once held the Elements of Harmony, exactly as she remembered it.
It was here that Celestia stopped. She sat, right there in the doorway, and gestured to the structure with a wing. “There, Twilight. That is what I want you to see.”
All thoughts of ghosts and bad memories fled Twilight’s mind, like roaches evading sunlight.
“What? That?” She took a few steps into the entry hall, her eyes on the… whatever they called it. “But… I’ve seen it. Multiple times.”
“See it again.”
She turned to Celestia, confusion and concern marring her features. “I don’t understand.”
Celestia nodded, and for a moment she had that same kind, motherly look Twilight loved to see. “You will. I know it. Please, Twilight, look. Examine it. When you realize what you’re seeing, then I will give you this.” She raised the book in her aura. Twilight took a step back, startled; she’d not realized Celestia had brought it.
“Oookay.” Twilight turned to the structure. She looked back at Celestia. “I’m going, then. To, uh, look at the thing.” She took a step forward, eyes still on Celestia. “That I’ve seen before.”
Celestia’s smile turned into a little smirk. “Go on. It’s okay, Twilight, this old mare hasn’t lost all her marbles. At least not yet. I’ll wait here.”
With a sigh, Twilight approached the… thing. Why hadn’t she ever figured out what it was called? More to the point, what could Celestia possibly expect her to find? She’d been in this room so many times, surely if something were off she would have noticed.
But Celestia hadn’t led her astray before. If she said there was something to see here, then there was. Twilight just had to figure out what was missing.
Was something missing? Surely, there had to be. After all, she came to see Celestia because she thought something was missing, so it made sense. With a logical place to start, Twilight began circling the structure.
It was everything she remembered; a big, circular plinth with long bars to hold the old Elements. It appeared to be made from marble, and a quick examination with her hoof proved the theory correct. Vines had grown over parts of it, and there were a few spider webs, but otherwise? Exactly the same as she recalled.
Twilight had a feeling she’d be at this for a while.
Seconds passed into minutes. Time lingered on as Twilight examined the structure from every angle, tapping it and peering into the nooks and crannies. Every now and then she would glance at Celestia, hoping she might be provided a clue. Instead, Celestia was reading that book. It must not have been a pleasant read, for the princess’s lips were set in a deep frown and her brow was furrowed with… Twilight couldn’t be sure. Was that anger on her face, or sadness? It seemed to be a little of both.
Twilight shook her head; she was supposed to be studying the stupid marble element-holding thingamajig – she really needed to ask Celestia what it was called. For now, all she knew was that it held the five Elements back when they were still orbs. Now it was just…
“Wait.”
Twilight’s eyes widened as she took in the design before her. Carefully, she counted off the metal arms. “No… that can’t be right.” She circled the structure at a walk to recount, and came up with the same result. Uncertainty filled her mind as she repeated the act at a trot, then a gallop, then in the air. “One, two, three, four, five…”
“You’ve figured it out.”
She came to a clumsy stop before Celestia, who had approached during her moment of revelation. “Princess, there are… why are there six limbs? We only found five orbs! There shouldn’t be a sixth limb!”
Celestia smiled, but it wasn’t the usual proud one she offered when Twilight solved one of her puzzles. “How would you explain that, Twilight?”
“I… I don’t know.” She dropped to the floor and turned to take in the structure one more time. “When the girls and I went to defeat Nightmare Moon, we… we only found five orbs. The Element of Magic was missing. B-but I’m pretty sure it didn’t belong on that sixth limb, because it’s not supposed to manifest without the others having been activated. Right?” She looked to Celestia, ears flat. “Right?”
The princess brought her head down to Twilight’s level. “Why did you write to me? What were you looking for, Twilight?”
Twilight cocked her head. “Well, I was trying to find something—”
Her eyes became saucers. Slowly, she turned back to stare at the structure. Her hoof pressed over her heart, and that terrible sensation was there like it had never left. “Missing.”
A few slow breaths to slow the heart. “Celestia… are you telling me there’s a missing seventh element?”
“Missing?” The book floated before her eyes, encased in a golden glow. “Or lost?”
Twilight gazed at the worn brown cover. It bore no title, no author’s name. Hesitantly, she reached for it… and the book backed away. Wincing, she turned back to Celestia with an inquiring, hurt expression.
Celestia wouldn’t look her in the eye. “Twilight, the book does hold the answers you seek, yet it does not hold a solution to the problem. If you really want it, then… then you may ha… borrow it. And read it at the castle in Canterlot. But remember what I told you; once you know, you cannot un-know, and you will never look upon me in the same way again.”
She didn’t ask the question, but Twilight could see it in her eyes. No, it wasn’t a question; it was a plea. Celestia’s anxiety, her constant fidgeting, her inability to look her in the eye. Twilight looked from her former mentor to the book, and back. And again. The desire to know filled her to the core, her inquisitive nature almost desperate to unravel this mystery.
But Celestia’s eyes begged her to reconsider.
What was more important? She said the book didn’t have a solution, but… but she also said that the situation was serious. It could be that a solution lay hidden within those pages without anypony – even Celestia – realizing it. Twilight excelled at that kind of thing, after all.
But if the contents hurt Celestia…
Twilight sat on a precipice, her body trembling as she closed her eyes and fought for a solution. “I… I should…”
Twilight knew what she would pick. There’d really been no question. Yet she stalled for as long as she could, silently begging for an answer. If Celestia told her not to take the book, she’d listen, but she needed that command. Without it, she would… would…
The book became encased in her violet aura, and she released the breath she’d been holding. She looked up to see Celestia watching her with a pained expression. “I’m sorry, but I have to know.”
“I know.”
There came a flash of light, and the world changed in an instant. Twilight looked around, quickly recognizing her old tower in Canterlot. Celestia bowed her head and gestured to the book. “Read it, Twilight, but please, don’t take it out of Canterlot Castle. I don’t want its contents made public. You’ll understand once you’ve read.”
Twilight offered a wan smile. “Don’t worry, Celestia. I trust you.”
The princess winced and turned her face away. “I hope you will continue to in the future.”
“Of course I will.” Twilight tucked the book under her wing and touched Celestia’s shoulder. “Nothing’s going to change between us, Princess. You’ll see.”
Celestia didn’t smile. Slowly, she reached out with her wing to pull Twilight close. “Twilight… I know we haven’t spoken directly much. There’s always been a—” She paused, turning her face even farther away and chewing her lip.
“A wall,” Twilight finished with a sigh. “I know. You’re my teacher, I’m the student. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”
“Not anymore.” Celestia at last looked Twilight in the eye. “You’re a princess now. We should act as equals. I know it’s been hard for you to step into that mentality. It’s been a challenge for me as well. That’s why, before you go to discover a world long forgotten, I need to tell you that…”
Once again, she stumbled. Twilight ducked her head, concern and uncertainty filling her. “Princess?”
“Celestia. Or just… just Tia.” Celestia nuzzled Twilight, who couldn’t resist a little pleasure at the contact. “You’re like a daughter to me. You know that, don’t you?”
The young princess’s heart swelled, the emptiness forgotten in its entirety. She leaned into Celestia with a grin she had no hope of hiding. “I… I guessed, but it feels good to hear it at last.” She rubbed her cheek against that warm body and delighted in the sound of a quick heartbeat.
“It’s good to finally admit it.”
They remained that way for some time, enjoying one another’s presence. Twilight couldn’t describe how comfortable it was. It reminded her of long nights of studying; of the rare lazy day napping under her folded wing, head resting on a book pillow; of warm sunshine; of soothing words after a nightmare.
Then, just like that, it was gone. She nearly fell, and Celestia easily caught her in her magic. “Hey,” Twilight grumbled, “I was enjoying that.”
“As was I,” Celestia replied with a warm smile, but it faded to sadness within seconds. “I won’t delay this, no matter how much I want to. I have my responsibilities to get back to, after all. I just… wanted you to know how much I loved you, Twilight Sparkle.”
The warmth of those words permeated Twilight’s every pore. The massive grin came back. “I love you too, Cel… Tia.”
“I hope you remember that by this time tomorrow.” With one last glance at the book under Twilight’s wing, Celestia turned and left the tower. Twilight watched her go with a sense of contentment, which faded gradually as she wondered how her real mother might react to what had just taken place. The thought made her a little giddy; did this mean she had two mothers? Might make Dam’s Day a little tricky.
Her pleasure was soon interrupted by a familiar feeling within, one she’d grown almost intimately familiar with in the last few months. With a sigh, she pulled the book out from under her wing.
“I guess I should get started.”
With the defeat of her army at the Battle of Trotters Town, Queen Solenepsis at last acknowledge defeat. She sent an envoy to Canterlot, requesting formal permission to visit the city and discuss with Princess Celestia a peace settlement. Celestia accepted this offer, and the changeling queen arrived two weeks later. As a sign of trust, she came with only a token company guards, accompanied by her son Mandible.
The moment the queen and her son were separated from their bodyguards, Celestia’s own Royal Guard surrounded and captured the small unit, while Celestia herself proceeded to kill the unsuspecting Queen Solenepsis. Mandible, who had lead his mother’s army on numerous campaigns, was taken prisoner. Following…
The book flew across the room, striking a lamp and bringing both to the floor.
Twilight was on her hooves, wings spread and teeth bared. She heaved a few slow, steady breaths and gradually forced the light of her horn to dim.
“Lies,” she hissed. “All of it. It must be.”
How many terrible things had she discovered so far? She couldn’t have been more than a third through the book at this point, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to read any more. She couldn’t understand why the author would write such blatant, horrible things about her mentor. And paint it as a history book, no less! She had half a mind to march over to Celestia’s quarters and demand to know the meaning of this blatant prank.
Because it had to be a prank. Celestia wouldn’t murder ponies – or even changelings – in cold blood. Nor would she send these so-called Sun Priests all over Equestria on some inquisition to root out moon cultists. The book had barely hinted at the ‘coercion’ methods she had supposedly authorized, and that alone had been enough to make Twilight feel ill. The burning of books, the imprisonment of dissenters, the public executions…
So it had to be lies. None of these things could have been done by the Celestia she knew and loved.
Twilight sighed and walked to the window, her gaze going out to the night sky. “So why did she tell me to read the book?” Her chin dropped to the ledge. “Why did she act so weird, like I was discovering something terrible?”
She lingered at the window for a while, the terrible stories of tyranny dancing around in her skull. Part of her wanted to put the book away and go to bed. The other part wanted to finish this ‘assignment’ and see where it would lead. Surely Celestia wouldn’t have her read it for no reason. Perhaps it was a test.
Her ears perked. A hopeful smile crept onto her lips.
“A test. She wants to see if I’ll believe it. Of course.” She stretched and sat up properly. “It’s not like her usual test, but hey, who am I to argue with Celestia? I’ll go see her in the morning and we’ll laugh about it.”
It didn’t sound like much of an excuse, but the alternative… she preferred not to think about.
As she turned away from the window, she heard the door downstairs open. Suspecting it to be some servant who didn’t get the notice that the tower was occupied for the night, Twilight made for the stairs. Perhaps it would be somepony she knew, a servant she’d met as a filly. Seeing a friendly face would do wonders for her right about now.
It was a friendly face.
It wasn’t one she expected.
“Greetings, Twilight Sparkle.” Luna stood at the bottom of the stairs, gazing up at Twilight with a solemn, unreadable gaze. “I hope the night is going well for you?”
“Luna!” Twilight bounded down the stairs and gave the princess a hug. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
Luna smiled at the embrace, but then turned her head away with a scoff. “So, you intended to come to Canterlot for a night and not visit with me? Perhaps I should just leave and spare you the burden.”
Twilight chuckled and shook her head. “Sorry, Luna. This whole visit was a bit unplanned.”
“I am aware.” The princess’s expression shifted to concern as she studied Twilight’s face. “It is good that you are still in Canterlot. I half expected to find the tower empty.”
At this Twilight cocked her head. “Why would I leave so soon?”
“You’ve read the book, have you not?”
“Oh.” Twilight managed a half-hearted giggle and nodded. “She told you about that? I’m only about a third of the way through it. I have to say, it’s a very well-done test. I’m tempted to meet the imaginative pony who wrote it.”
Luna blinked, her brow furrowing. “I do not understand. Are we speaking of the same book?”
Twilight didn’t want to acknowledge the hint of fear that threatened her mind, so she countered the query with a smile and led her back up the stairs. “Brown, made to look old, full of falsehoods about the years after your banishment?” She went to pick the book up off the floor, hurrying to set the lamp back in place. How the thing hadn’t broken with how hard she’d thrown the tome, she would never know.
When she turned back, it was to a Luna with a pained expression. “Luna? What’s wrong?”
The princess rubbed her temple with a long sigh. “It is just as I feared. Celestia was right to ask me to check up on you.”
Twilight’s jaw dropped. “She… what?”
“When nopony reported seeing you in the castle, she feared you had left in disgust.” Luna gestured to the book. “Or that you were not taking this seriously.”
A gasp escaped Twilight’s lungs. An eye twitched. “Not taking it seriously? What do you mean, not taking it seriously?” She stomped and thrust the book in Luna’s face. “Since when do I ever not take one of Celestia’s assignments seriously? Have you read this thing? Just because somepony made a fake history book and I happen to find it amusing, that doesn’t mean—”
“Twilight.”
At Luna’s tone, she promptly sucked down the rest of her words. Dropping to her haunches, she set her hoof to her chest, took a deep breath, and released while moving her hoof out slowly. “I’m sorry,” she said once she’d finished. “I shouldn’t have snapped like that. It’s just that I take Celestia’s orders very seriously!”
“Orders?” Luna shook her head. “You are a princess now, Twilight. Celestia did not ‘order’ you to do anything.”
“But this is a test.” She tapped the book’s spine. “Isn’t it?” It had to be. She silently begged Luna to confirm it.
Luna considered her for a time, then turned her head to the window. She approached it and gazed at the night sky. “Twilight, do you know the first thing I did when I returned to Canterlot after my exile?”
“Um…” Twilight rubbed the side of her head with the edge of the book, muzzle scrunched up in thought. “Didn’t you say you spent a few months studying the millennium you were gone? Catching up?”
“And do you know what I found?”
“Well… history.” Twilight’s ears folded back. “Right?”
Luna turned back to her with a face once again unreadable. “I found a gap, Twilight. Three hundred years of history… gone.”
“Oh, you mean the Blackout.” Twilight shrugged. “Everypony knows about the three centuries. Nothing big happened in that time, so there was nothing but almanacs and other mundane things.”
An eyebrow rose as Luna leaned forward, her gaze searching. “Twilight, do you honestly believe that after Equestria lost one of the two most powerful ponies in its realm, nothing happened?”
Twilight swallowed a lump in her throat. Her stomach cut a few flips as she scrambled for some kind of response. “Well, I mean… Celestia confirmed it, so…”
“And like a good little filly, you chose to believe her.”
“Well… yeah. Yeah.” Twilight stood to her full height and nodded with conviction. “She’s Celestia. Why would I doubt her?”
“Why would she give you a fake book detailing three hundred years of events?”
“Because… because…” She glanced at the book floating innocuously at her side. Her excuse abruptly sounded much more feeble than she’d first thought. “Because it’s a… a test of my… my faith?”
“I think we can agree that you are long past the point of taking tests, Twilight Sparkle.”
“But it can’t be true!” Twilight dropped the book to the floor and backed away as if it might explode. “Celestia wouldn’t do those kinds of things! She’s not evil!”
Luna stood straight once more and nodded. “You are correct, she is not. I understand this is hard to take in, Twilight, but your role model isn’t divine. She’s not always right. She’s a pony, no different from any other, and she can have a dark past just like any other. You should be your own best example. Being a princess does not make you perfect.”
Twilight fell to her haunches. Her vision blurred, but she fought down the urge with everything she had.
And that feeling. That horrible, empty feeling. Why wouldn’t it go away?
“B-but… It can’t be true.” She sniffed and rubbed her eyes with one hoof. “C-can it?”
Luna turned away. “I think I’ve said enough. The consequences of that book are for you and her to discuss.”
Her calming maneuver long forgotten, Twilight sucked in a few sharp breaths. She stared at the book with a new horror, slowly shaking her head. She didn’t want to read anymore. She couldn’t.
Yet, after what she’d already learned…
She jumped to her hooves and galloped to the stairwell. “Luna!”
The princess paused before the door to look up at her with that ever-unreadable manner.
“You’ve read the book, haven’t you?”
“I have.”
Twilight bit her lip, fear and anticipation battling within her. “What…” She swallowed to apply moisture to her throat. “What does this have to do with the missing element?”
Luna stared at her for several long seconds, neither smiling nor frowning. Twilight prayed for the answer, leaning out over the steps and panting as though she’d ran a marathon.
“Read the book, Twilight.”
The princess left, the door to the tower closing with a quiet click.
The Whitewood Hive did not learn about the coming Equestrian army until less than a day before their arrival. With their army defeated at Trotters Town and not knowing about the death of their queen, the leaders left in charge sent diplomatic parties to inquire about the approaching army. All were killed or captured, and the hive soon realized its situation.
Princess Celestia was determined to let the hive know of its doom. She had Queen Solenepsis’s corpse hanging from a pike at the front of the marching column, the pike itself bound to the back of her son. The two were paraded before the hive for several hours before General Spearhead had the young Mandible executed with the same pike. The moment he breathed his last, the army charged.
To the credit of Whitewood Hive, it did not fall immediately. The civilians there were able to retreat into deeper parts of the hive and barricade themselves within, though scores of changelings lost their lives in the frantic withdrawal. Rather than waste any more of her soldiers’ lives, Celestia had the exits sealed under mounds of compacted dirt and left her army in position. A few of her generals decried this act as unequine, but they were all silent after Celestia ordered one of the dissenters – a young officer by the name of Olive Oil – to be buried in with the changelings.
For a whole week, the army remained stationed above the hive’s many tunnels. Scouting parties searched through the Whitetail Woods for potential exits and attempts to escape by further digging. The changelings did make a few attempts, but all were thwarted. At the end of the week, Celestia ordered one of the tunnels reopened and sent a search party inside.
All that remained were corpses. The tunnel was re-sealed, and the army moved north. Celestia turned her attention West to the next threat to Equestria’s peace: the minotaurs. There she would give the Sanguine Mountain its name.
Twilight’s legs were like lead. Just keeping her head above floor-level was a challenge. Yet she trudged onward, ignoring the moisture on her cheeks or the wayward strands of her mane. The guards to Celestia’s chambers made no attempt to stop her from going inside, though they made a good showing of not looking at the disheveled princess.
Celestia wasn’t in. That didn’t surprise Twilight, and she had no interest in looking for her. Instead, she set the book down on the closest surface and began to pace. A hoof kept reaching up to touch that spot over her heart, where jagged icicles danced inside her, icicles made of doubt and fear and, yes, that incessant emptiness.
But now that emptiness had a twin.
Twilight’s eyes went to the grand window. She walked over to it, not even noticing the view. Her gaze instead fell upon the glass itself, tracing along the edge of the pane until she found the small chip in the lower left corner.
She remembered that day vividly; it was the first time she’d thought she’d disappointed her mentor. A simple levitation spell, to gauge her strength. She’d been so eager to impress, she’d shattered the table. Oh, what a break down that had been. Twilight couldn’t resist a chuckle at her own waterworks, even if she’d only been six at the time.
She’d been so terrified. What if her apprenticeship was over before it had begun? Then… Celestia had offered that beautiful, patient smile and wiped her tears away with a feather. She brought Twilight to the window, revealing the tiny chip. The fact that the wood had managed to damage the reinforced glass was a testament to her strength, or so Celestia claimed.
Twilight whispered the words. “But what about the table I broke?”
A tear fell down her cheek as she answered herself. “I was looking to get a new one anyway.”
That had been Twilight’s first lesson, her first real look at Celestia. Her kindness, her gentleness, her forgiving nature. Everything Twilight adored in her mentor, compressed into a single precious moment. Would it be strange if she told Celestia that she cherished this little chip? That she would have been disappointed if she came here one day to find the window had been replaced?
Sniffling, she turned away from the window and its chip. She discovered a room filled with beloved memories. Every open space, every corner, every surface held a little piece of her.
The centuries-old painting of Chancellor Puddinghead with the small, horseshoe-shaped ink stain in the corner. “Puddinghead would approve! She always said traditional portraits were drab things.”
The custom telescope sitting in the corner like a trophy with two viewing lenses. “If the stars fascinate you so, I’ll have a special telescope made for us. When you get old enough to stay at the castle, I’ll have one made just for you.”
The bookshelf with the broken piece that had to be supported by the carefully chosen hardbacks beneath it. “Don’t worry, Twilight, we’ll work on your fine control later. For now, how about a lesson in resourcefulness?”
And then… there was the book. She gazed at it, all the warmth fading from her heart, to be replaced once more by those terrible, cutting icicles. As if struck by a hammer, she collapsed to her barrel and buried her head beneath her legs, sobbing.
“Twilight?”
A lone leg rose from her eyes, revealing a startled Celestia at the door. Struggling to control tears that had barely begun to flow, Twilight stood on trembling legs. When Celestia tried to approach, she backed up. The look of pain on her former mentor’s face was like a frigid claw wrapped about her chest.
For some time, they merely stared at one another, Twilight fighting to regain control and Celestia staring at her as if she were about to die. The young alicorn turned away to gaze out the window, working to think through the horror in her mind. She stared out at the majestic city below, pristine and glorious and, she now knew, built on blood. She bowed her head to wipe at her eyes.
When they opened, her gaze landed upon a tiny chip in the glass. She reached down to touch it, and the memory of a kind smile came to her. She could still feel the wing on her back, pulling her into a comforting embrace, and soothing words in her tiny ears.
She turned back to her mentor. Celestia hadn’t moved.
With shaking lips, Twilight spoke. “If you tell me it’s not true… I…” Her head lowered, but her eyes remained on those of the princess. “I’ll believe you.”
Celestia hesitated, comprehension dawning in her eyes. She licked her lips, glancing between the book and Twilight. She opened her mouth—
“Please.” Twilight took a step forward. “Tell me it’s not true. I’ll believe it. I won’t say anything about that book to anypony. You can burn it for all I care, just tell me it’s not true.”
Tears threatened to escape Celestia’s eyes. She leaned back, shoulders and wings limp, her lips fumbling for words. At last, she reached over to place her hoof on the book. “T-Twilight…”
Twilight took another step, hope and despair mixing chaotically in her heart.
“Did Luna tell you why… why there is no author for this b-book?”
When swallowing failed to moisten her throat, Twilight merely shook her head.
“Because the book was pulled off the presses. Because the publishing company went bankrupt less than a month later. B-because…” Celestia heaved a shuddering breath, her gaze set upon the tome. “Because the author conveniently died of food poisoning. No company would touch the book after those mysteriously coinciding events.”
Everything seemed to go dim. It took Twilight a moment to realize that she’d collapsed. Her ears rung, her heart throbbed, her cheeks were soaked. She could barely hear anything. In her mind’s eye, she could see her precious, perfect Celestia walking away, to be replaced by something new. Something… unwholesome.
Her face rose. Something was holding it. She blinked away the tears and saw Celestia leaning over her with an expression of panic. She was saying something. What was she saying? Maybe it didn’t matter. After all, this wasn’t her Celestia.
It couldn’t be.
“—light, just breathe. Come on, you can do it.”
Air flew into Twilight lungs. She gasped and clutched at her chest, heaving as her body recovered.
Celestia released a long breath. “Thank goodness. Please don’t frighten me like that.”
Twilight stared up at her, questions and doubts circling through her cranium. At last, she managed to croak out, “Why?”
The princess recoiled as if stung. A second later, she came forward again, reaching down to touch Twilight’s cheek.
“Get away.” Though weak, Twilight still managed to pull away. “D-don’t touch me.”
The hoof retracted. Celestia made a sound somewhere between a cry and a sob and turned away.
Slowly, her legs quaking, Twilight managed to pick herself up into a sitting position. Her breathing finally recovered, she stared at the back of the pony she once thought incorruptible. A small part of her wanted to apologize and embrace Celestia, but despair and uncertainty crushed that desire with ease.
“Why?” she whispered. “You had th-thousands slaughtered. You’re a tyrant. How could you do all that? The wars, the atrocities, the… the brutality. How could the pony who taught me, who… who practically r-raised me…” She couldn’t bring herself to continue, so she bowed her head and waited for an answer.
Celestia heaved a long sigh. “Twilight, you were right. There was once a seventh element. Can you guess what it was?”
Twilight made no attempt to answer. She just stared at her hooves and tried not to break into tears again.
“It was Forgiveness.”
Celestia walked past Twilight to stare out the window. “It was supposed to be mine, but I lost it. I lost it the day I had to send my sister to the moon.”
On legs like lead, Twilight turned to face the princess once more. “I don’t understand.”
The world outside was bright and sunny. Canterlot gleamed like a jewel below, but Celestia’s gaze was not upon those pearly spires. She stared at herself, at a long and miserable face.
“After what I had to do to Luna… I broke. I didn’t want to face the consequences of my actions. Didn’t want to think about how her fall was my fault.” Her eyes narrowed. “Yet there was still work to be done. Equestria was a land of peace, but threats existed both within and without. The citizenry saw what I had done to my own blood and thought I’d gone power mad; Equestria’s rivals saw the loss of one of its rulers and sought to take advantage of the resulting disorder.”
She turned from the window to instead stare at the wall. A fierce bite breached her tone. “I was so… angry. At everything. The inquisitions, the wars, the torture and the dungeons and the blood. I thought I was being righteous, that I was protecting Equestria. By the time I realized what I’d become, things had been set into motion I could not stop. To be honest, I… I w-wasn’t sure I wanted to.”
Her eyes, dripping tears upon her pale cheeks, fell at last upon Twilight. “Now you know, Twilight. Your teacher was a monster once. I came to loathe myself. Sometimes I still do. There was a whole decade in which I forbade mirrors in the palace because I couldn’t stand my own image. But the blood kept flowing.”
Twilight bowed her head. “I still don’t understand.”
“I know.” Celestia’s lips twitched into a feeble smile. “It must seem so alien to you.”
The ache in Twilight’s heart filled her entire body, but she’d started down the path. “W-what… what pulled you out of it? Did anything?”
“You mean… ‘How do I know you aren’t a tyrant now?’ ”
She nodded.
Celestia considered the question quietly, taking a moment to brush the tears from her eyes. “I can only ask you to judge me by your experiences.”
Twilight looked up, an unpleasant thought coming to the forefront of her mind. “Princess… is my life a lie?”
This time Celestia’s smile was genuine. “No, Twilight. None of it was a lie. The pony you know as Celestia is the same now as she was when you first met her, and I can assure you I manipulated nothing to make that happen.” At Twilight’s hesitancy, she leaned forward with hope in her eyes. “You do believe me, don’t you?”
“I… Well, I…” Twilight fidgeted, her gaze turning away. As her eyes drifted across the room, she once more took in all the familiar memories of her foalhood. She closed her eyes and recalled a lifetime of happiness.
She didn’t smile. She couldn’t. Yet when she looked up to Celestia, she did so with all the confidence she felt in her heart. “I do.”
Celestia’s face lit up like the sun, tears once again streaming down her cheeks. Her grin faded a touch when Twilight shied away from her approach, though.
“B-but I still don’t know what to think about all this,” Twilight admitted. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why keep all of this a secret?”
With a sigh, Celestia nodded. “You’re right, I’m not done explaining.” She took another long breath, composing herself to a close resemblance of her usual state. Her shoulders remained slumped and her ears lay flat, but she somehow still held her head high. “The seventh element, Forgiveness, belonged to me. After I lost Luna, I… I defied it. I couldn’t practice forgiveness, because I could not forgive myself.
“So I ran, Twilight. I ran away from my guilt and buried it in action. I lost sight of who I was. Indeed, I drifted so far away from everything I’d come to believe that I became not a pony, but a fiend. I knew the Elements didn’t belong with me anymore. I didn't care. As part of my refusal to face reality, I would not give them up.”
Celestia pressed a hoof to her heart. “One day, over a century after my dark turn, I felt something missing. It took me weeks to ascertain the source, but at last I traced it back to the Elements. The Element of Forgiveness had shattered.” She cringed at Twilight’s quiet gasp. “Every single day, I refused to forgive myself. With every new battle, each head sent to the chopping block, every scream in a dark dungeon, my capacity to forgive dwindled into nothingness. Forgiveness was, of course, forgiving, but I had acted beyond even its limitations.”
Twilight shuddered as she imagined her own element in the Tree of Harmony shattering into a thousand tiny pieces. The very concept left her with a cold feeling of dread. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“Neither did I.” Celestia closed her eyes as she spoke. “I looked on in horror of my actions, and when I examined the other elements I realized that they too were on the verge of collapse. It was then that I understood how far I’d fallen, and how I was disgracing Luna’s memory. I released my hold on the Elements, and the stones you saw before – once objects of great power – instantly lost everything. I panicked at first, thinking it was too late, but I later came to understand that the power, the… ‘source’ of the Elements had fled. They had been so eager to get away from me that they literally threw off their physical forms and disappeared into the world.”
Twilight tried to imagine what it might look like for the colors of the orbs to fly away like a cloud of smoke. More troubling, she could see Celestia’s horrified face at the sight of her last connection with her sister… disappearing. “W-what did you do?”
“There was only one thing to do,” Celestia replied, turning once more to stare out the window. “I swore on the Moon to return to the ways of Harmony, and bring the lessons of the Elements back into the culture of Equestria. It took centuries to undo the damage and restore the nation to its former glory, but I was driven by the need for redemption. I still am.”
With so much to take in, Twilight wondered if she’d ever come to terms with it. She sat there for a while, thinking on what she’d learned about her beloved teacher. She discovered more questions than answers. “So, the emptiness that’s been haunting me all this time… is Forgiveness? A lost element?” She looked at Celestia through the mirror. “What does that mean for me?”
“I don’t know.” Celestia shook her head with an apologetic look. “I wish I could tell you. But consider that the Elements have been functioning without it, and even the Tree of Harmony did not react negatively to its absence. It may be that Forgiveness is gone. Forever.”
Twilight took a tentative step forward. “A-are you sure?”
“No.” Celestia’s gaze went to the distant horizon. “It may be that Forgiveness was so repulsed by my actions that it forcefully broke from me and ran so far away that we simply have yet to rediscover it. Or it may be that it won’t return to the world until I have found it in me to forgive myself.”
A gasp escaped Twilight. “You mean you still haven’t done that after a thousand years? Does Luna know?”
“She has forgiven me.” Celestia turned back to Twilight, sadness etched in her features. “Yet I still cannot forgive myself. Her fall, and all the bloodshed that came after, are my doing. I doubt I will ever get over my sins, Twilight. I have truly, and perhaps irredeemably, lost touch with what was once an intrinsic part of myself.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Twilight cried, her outburst taking Celestia aback. “You’re the single most forgiving pony in existence! What about Discord? Why would you ask Fluttershy to reform him if not for forgiveness?”
“Actually…” Celestia averted her gaze and shuffled in place. “The truth is that, without Forgiveness, the Elements are weaker than they should be. Discord would have escaped by his own power eventually, so reformation seemed like a good alternative.”
“Weaker?” Twilight balked. “Weaker? You mean the most powerful magic known to Ponydom, the force that I’ve been wielding with my friends, that awesome and amazing wonder cure is the weak version?”
“Considerably.” Celestia blushed. “It’s about a tenth of what it was before.”
“A tenth?!”
The princess raised a judging eyebrow. “I think we’re getting off track.”
Twilight sat and pressed both hooves to her forehead. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just so much to take in.”
“I understand.” Celestia started to approach, but stopped herself short. She pulled back, eyes averted once more. “I wish I could have told you sooner. I only wanted to shield you from the pain. I had hoped that you wouldn’t even notice, but that was in error.”
Slowly, Twilight pressed her hoof to her chest. “So this… hole in my heart… that’s the missing element.”
Celestia lowered her head practically to the floor. “Yes. I am sorry, Twilight, but I do not know if it can ever be healed.”
Twilight pondered the situation for some time, her gaze going over Celestia’s submissive appearance. She had to wonder just how far a pony would have to fall in order to literally break an Element of Harmony. That alone spoke volumes. To know the pony she once trusted so completely would commit such atrocities...
The ultimate insult was that the burden no longer fell upon Celestia. Whether or not Celestia intended it, she’d taken the aftermath of her misdeeds and set it in Twilight’s lap – perhaps her very soul – to resolve. That thought sent a chill down her spine; if the seventh element really was gone forever, what did that mean for her?
“Am I going to go mad?”
Celestia’s head jerked up, her brow furrowed in uncertainty. “Go mad?”
“I’ve been made incomplete.” Twilight was rubbing her chest with both hooves now. “You gave me something flawed, and I can feel it. It’s eating away at me, I know it.” Dread swelled within her. Her lips trembled. “C-Celestia… what if this leads me to make mistakes? Mistakes like yours or Luna’s? What if the emptiness consumes my heart?”
“That won’t happen.” For the first time that day, Celestia sounded confident. “We will help you, Twilight.”
Twilight gazed upon that determined expression. It gave her no comfort, and that only fueled her despair. She turned away, eyes on her hooves and heart heavy.
“What if I don’t want you to?”
Celestia’s gasp wrenched her insides. “T-Twilight… please don’t say that.”
Oh, but that horrified tone didn’t help matters. Twilight hugged her shivering self, reeling in emptiness and loss. “I’m sorry, Celestia. After all I’ve learned… I-I need time to think. I think I’m gonna be sick.”
It took Celestia a long time to form a response. “Because of what I did?”
Twilight closed her eyes and nodded. Every word from her lips stung like a fresh lash of a whip. “You… You hid your actions. You committed atrocities, and then you r-ran away. Like a… Like a c-coward. And now? N-now you’ve foisted responsibility for your crimes on my shoulders.”
“That was never my—”
Twilight turned on her. “It’s what happened!”
Celestia jumped back and fell to her haunches, eyes like saucers and legs shaking. Twilight saw her face and immediately regretted her outburst. Part of her was angry, true, but more than anything she felt… depressed. Like her world was caving in and all she could do was let it. Taking a long, slow breath, she turned for the door.
“Whatever your intentions were, it’s what happened. I have no choice now but to try to find the seventh element, if it even exists, and hope that I don’t break in the meantime. I’m going home. I need to think about… everything.”
Though she still held that hurt expression, Celestia raised her hoof as if to catch Twilight. “Please, let us help. If not me, at least Luna. Please, Twilight.”
Though it pained her, Twilight could not bring herself to accept. She was tired of seeing the pony she loved so stricken, so she chose not to answer.
When she reached the door, Celestia spoke once more. “Twilight? R-remember what I said yesterday. Please, remember th-that I… I love you.”
Those words slammed into her skull like sledgehammers. The air fled her lungs and her legs shook. Twilight was tempted to turn around right then and there and embrace Celestia, but as she closed her eye to recover she couldn’t help imagining a whole city of civilians buried within their own homes. Mothers and children, awaiting the moment the air went stale and their lungs ceased functioning.
She left the room without a word.
~~Dear Pri~~
Celestia,
~~How are~~ ~~I must~~
I’ve had a lot of time to think, haven’t I? First, I wanted to apologize for my silence over the last four weeks. I can’t imagine the strain that put you through. I knew even then how much you were hurting, but I chose to be selfish and focus on my own pain.
For that too, I apologize.
Do you remember the first lesson you gave me? You wanted me to levitate an antique table, and I was so determined to impress you that it literally blew up in our faces. I was so scared, I just knew you’d be furious. I remember trying to calculate how many centuries of chores at home I’d have to do before I could pay for the thing.
Two hundred and nine.
You weren’t angry. You smiled that smile I loved and brought me to the window, showing me that chip. You praised my magical strength and wiped away my tears. I’ll always remember that lesson.
For that was when I first understood you, when I first came to look up to you as more than a mere princess. You were my mentor, my guiding light, my beacon of warmth and security. To an eager, ambitious filly, you became the whole world.
Four weeks ago, that world was shattered. I’ve been trying to pick up the pieces ever since.
I confided in my friends, shared the nongraphic basics of the story with Spike. I tossed and turned at night, had terrible nightmares, barely slept. All along, the emptiness consumed me like a great shadow I could never escape. Sometimes I hated you, and sometimes I hated myself for hating you. Sometimes I felt betrayed, others I felt like the biggest foal in Equestria. I don’t know how many times I screamed into my pillow.
It hurts. It hurts so much.
But then, a few days ago, Spike gave me something. It was a book, one of the very few to have survived the destruction of the old library. It was one of Starswirl the Bearded’s magical treatises, from the collection you gave me for my eighth birthday. I’ve read and re-read that book so many times, and I couldn’t help but read it again.
The very first time I read that book, it was by that window. I was snuggled up against you, tucked under one of your wings while you focused on work. I remember how happy I was back then, how everything felt so right when I was with you. Reading that book again the other day reminded me of something.
I love you. I love you so much. No matter what you’ve done, no matter who you’ve been, I love you.
And that led me to another powerful realization: we are not defined by who we used to be, but by who we are now. I still can’t believe I’d forgotten that lesson. I need look no farther than Sunset Shimmer, who I really need to visit soon. I can think of nopony more qualified to help me through this trying time.
With all that I’ve come to understand, and with everything that has been revealed to me, I think there’s only one thing left to do.
I forgive you, Celestia. Not for what you've done to Equestria, because that's not my place, but for what you've done to me. I’m still a little upset, and it still hurts, but I forgive you.
I’m going to search for the seventh element. If it’s alright by you, I’d like to talk about it. I need you now more than I ever did.
With love and forgiveness,
Twilight
PS
Don’t ever replace that window.
Author's Note
For those wanting to know about sequels and future plans, I've written a blog regarding the potential future of this AU. Give it a look and feel free to ask questions!
"There is a new, seventh element!"
That was the prompt of the contest this story was written for. I went from seeing the prompt to have this idea in my head in the span of about two minutes. The concept actually targets two different tropes – Tyrantlestia being the other – in what I hope is a more likable, believable manner. It was also important that the story feel real within as many confines of the show as I could manage. While there are a few things I couldn't possibly account for – like how Twilight saw only six elements in her flashback of the defeat of Discord – I'd like to hope I did as decent a job as I could.
Part of the inspiration for this story came from the animation error in the first episode showing six elements when the Mane 6 only found five of them. Another major one is JawJoe's Monsters, which is part of the reason I asked him to pre-read it.
Here's hoping I've targeted the trope from an as-yet undiscovered angle.
