Her Soldiers, We

by Tigerhorse

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Bat Pony, Adventure, Princess Celestia, Nightmare Moon, Drama, Original Character
Length: 41960

For a thousand years, the batponies of Equestria have longed for the return of their Princess Luna. But can their hopes and dreams hold up in the face of Nightmare Moon?

Vesperquines—batponies—have faithfully guarded Equestria's night for a thousand years. Apart from Celestia, they alone have kept the memory of Princess Luna alive in their hearts. And they alone know of their failure, of how they were not the friends she needed when jealousy and despair gnawed at her.

They pray for a second chance. They vow to do better.

And then, one night, miraculously, she returns.

But the princess whose memory they cherish is still lost to her mad fury. And for a young recruit of the Night Guard, the nightmare has just begun.

A selection of the Royal Canterlot Library!

Published 2016-05-07 03:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-08-03 02:04:52 UTC

Night Fright

The alicorn's evil laughter echoed down the wreckage of the street. Sky stood before her, the taste of her name still raw on his tongue.

“Nightmare Moon?” Belle said. Her voice was sharp with astonishment. “That silly monster to scare little foals?”

Nightmare Moon's laughter cut off sharply. She looked down her nose at Belle. “I beg your pardon?” Her tone was frigid.

Sky kept himself interposed between the two of them. “Now, now, she didn't mean anything by that,” he said. He glanced back over his shoulder at Belle, and gave her a glare. Did you! he thought at her, but she was oblivious to his psychic effort.

“You're not real,” Belle insisted.

“Belle, you aren't helping,” Sky called back to her.

“Well, she's not!” Belle said. “Is she crazy or something?”

Nightmare Moon snarled. “You impudent little—”

His muscles quivered in cold dread. He spread out his wings, waving them to get Nightmare Moon's attention away from Belle. “Hey, let's not do this, okay? Let's calm down a little. No need to, uhh, no need to make a scene here, right?” Oh crap, I'm babbling, he thought.

Nevertheless, he drew her eye. She stared down at him in disdain, and moved to step around him, but he thrust himself into her path.

“Sit,” she said. She did... a thing to her voice as she said it, and the sound washed through his body like a sickness. The muscles in his haunches quivered and gave way, and before he could quite realize it, he was sitting in the street.

He tried to get back up, still confused by what had happened. One hind hoof pawed weakly at the cobbles, but that was all the power he had over his legs. He looked up at Nightmare Moon.

She arched one eyebrow, a growing smile slinking across her face.

“Wh... what have you...?” he asked. The first pricklings of panic were settling into his gut.

“How surprising,” she murmured. “That prim little solar bitch didn't even undo that much of you.”

“Why can't I get up?” He winced at the pathetic tone creeping into his voice.

Her eyes narrowed. “Because, my little bat, I did not make your kind for disobedience.”

Belle's voice cracked at them. “Quit it, you! Leave him alone!”

Sky's heart ached to hear her defending him, but terror bled through his veins like ice as Nightmare Moon's head snapped around to stare at her.

“Why should you care?” she said. Then she cocked her head slightly and let her lips pull into a faint, sneering smile. “Is he your stallion?” she asked.

Belle's cheeks colored. “What? N... no.”

A despairing little laugh tried to force it's way from Sky's throat, but he choked it back. No, he wasn't her stallion. Sometimes things just didn't work out.

He couldn't bring himself to hate her, and she couldn't bring herself to love him.

He watched as Nightmare Moon stared down at Belle. He struggled to rise, but the most he could coax from his legs was a twitch here and there. Even his wings did not respond when he thought to bypass his legs and hover. Nightmare Moon's will had control of him, and the thought of that sent sickening waves of terror through him. There was nothing he could do for Belle. There was nothing he could do for anyone, himself most of all.

“Well then,” Nightmare said to Belle, “he turned you down?”

Belle's ears drooped. Nightmare smiled. “So, the poor little lovesick mare—”

Belle's lips tightened. She raised her head and stared straight into Nightmare Moon's eyes. “Our relationship is none of your business.”

Nightmare's expression hardened. “Watch your tongue, little pony.”

“I'm watching just fine,” Belle retorted.

Sky saw the snarl taking shape on Nightmare Moon's face, and struggled once again to break free. Still to no avail. But just as he expected Nightmare Moon's full ire to pour upon Belle, the alicorn suddenly whipped her head around to stare up into the sky somewhere down the undamaged portion of Sun Street.

The force that constrained him slackened abruptly, and Sky flapped up to hover a body length or two above the ground. He windmilled his hind legs, exhilarated by his freedom and horrified by what had happened. Was her power over him—over all his kind, he realized—limited in duration? Or had her concentration slipped? Or had she simply chosen to release him? He looked her way, but she paid no heed to him, focused as she was on the sky down the street. He took a glance beyond her, to see what had pulled her attention away from Belle, and gasped.

Nebula was there with over a score of the Night Guard, wings outstretched in a silent glide down to the surface of the street. The tension in his muscles drained away in sudden relief. Nebula must have sent another reconnaissance flight once he'd failed to return, and now she had arrived to take control of the situation.

But there were things she needed to know. Like the fact that she and her soldiers would be facing off against Nightmare Moon herself. Or the fact that Nightmare Moon could turn them into puppets of her will. Sky hovered in the air, poised to dart to Nebula's side; but would that only attract Nightmare Moon's attention and cause her to swat him from the sky with her voice alone? Then again, if she did, might that itself not be warning enough to Nebula...?

He hesitated, trying to think of other options. Scarcely twenty paces away, Nebula alighted with a faint crunch of the cobbles underhoof. The two Wings accompanying her settled gracefully into ranks behind her.

Sky braced himself to fight, thinking of how to support Nebula's plan of attack. Should he hold back and try to figure how best to join in? Or would it be better to attack Nightmare Moon from his position behind her, and hopefully draw enough of her attention to allow an opening for Nebula? Circumstances had left him well-placed to flank the enemy—although to see it another way, circumstances had left him well-placed to get himself killed.

He knew that to fight an alicorn was to court death.

He held himself tautly, his training in the Guard flashing through his mind. But Nebula did not give the command to charge. Nor did she announce to Nightmare Moon that she was under arrest. Instead she bowed down for a long moment, her iron-grey forelock brushing at the ground. The ranks behind her followed suit.

Sky stared, eye wide in horror as Nebula returned to her feet and addressed the alicorn with a single sentence.

“Welcome back to Equestria, Princess Luna.”

No, he mouthed, paralyzed with shock. He nearly dropped to the ground as his wings skipped a beat. What was Nebula doing? Didn't she understand what she faced?

Nightmare Moon herself seemed taken aback. She lifted one hoof, pausing before taking a tentative step forward, staring intently at the ranks of vesperquines.

“So many,” she breathed.

“This is but a sixth of the Night Guard, hastily gathered to greet you, Princess Luna,” said Nebula.

Sky wanted to scream. Your eyes are as good as mine! That's not Princess Luna!

Nightmare Moon slowly scanned the Guard arrayed before her. “You've all been... awaiting me?” There was a hint of wonder in her voice. “You've all been awaiting me,” she repeated, as if treading around the edges of the idea. Then once more, “You've all been awaiting me!” Her lips peeled back into a savage grin, and her barking laughter soon followed.

Nebula waited for the echoes of laughter to fade. “As you say, Princess Luna. We've been waiting for a...” Her voice cracked, thick with emotion. “A very long time.”

Nightmare stared down at her with an unreadable expression. For a long moment the silence held, then she spoke.

“I no longer care to be called 'Luna,'” she said. She paused and let her gaze stray across the ranks of the Night Guard before settling once more upon Nebula. “Your name?” she asked.

Nebula ducked her head in a quick bow. “I am Nebula, captain of your Night Guard, Princess.”

“Nebula...” Nightmare Moon let the name roll across her tongue. “A pleasing name. Very well, Captain Nebula, I have your first orders. Let your soldiers fly to the corners of Equestria. Let them bear tidings to every city, village and hamlet. The Solar Tyrant is defeated! No longer shall the Sun push aside the Moon! Let every pony celebrate the Night without End, for Nightmare Moon has returned to rule the land!”

Sky was watching Nebula as the alicorn spoke, hoping for some indication that she was not simply bending her neck to this creature, some sign that she was buying time, readying a plan. But he could sense nothing from her, save a momentary flinch when Nightmare Moon called Celestia the Solar Tyrant.

Nebula bowed once more before Nightmare Moon. Sky's stomach felt sour as curdled milk. “It will be done as you wish, Princess Luna,” Nebula said.

Nightmare frowned. “My dear,” she said, “the name is Nightmare Moon. I suggest you remember that.”

Nebula held her bow silently. Nightmare stared at her for a long moment. Then she harrumphed and looked away, up into the distance to where the riotous jumble of architecture that was the castle overlooked the city.

As Nebula rose from her bow, Nightmare murmured, “I knew Canterlot Keep as little more than a pile of rocks.” She glanced back down at Nebula and crisply announced, “I believe I shall take a look at what she has done with the place. Attend me once you've arranged the disposition of your forces.” She spread her wings, but paused before launching. “Oh,” she said, turning her head to look back over her shoulder, directly at Sky. “Bring him as well,” she snickered. “He amuses me.”

With that, her wings caught at the air in a strong beat and she surged into the night. Sky stared after her for a long moment, before letting his horrified gaze drop down to Nebula.

For the moment, Nebula had no time for him. As if Nightmare's command had been the most reasonable thing in the world, she stood among the members of the Night Guard and rattled off a set of orders sending them and their subordinates across Equestria. Sky swept to the ground beside her.

“Silverwing,” Nebula was saying, “your squad are all strong fliers. You take Las Pegasus and environs.”

“What are you doing?” Sky cried out. His voice sounded shrill even to him

“Our duty, Private. Now settle down!”

He stared at her as she continued coordinating the dispersal of the Night Guard. When she finished, she looked each of her lieutenants in the eye and then spoke.

“You all know we aren't well-loved throughout the land. Ponies find us eerie and frightening, and we are few enough that we remain alien to most of the population. Nevertheless, you must do your best to reassure them. Tell them Princess Luna has returned, and though she is... disoriented at present, there is no cause to fear.” She took a deep breath, and steadied herself. “This night will end. That's a promise.”

Sky looked from face to face and saw a mix of uncertainty, bright-eyed intensity, and professional calm. They didn't know any better than he what the world was turning into around them. He cursed under his breath.

“All right, soldiers,” Nebula said, “get out there.”

They took to the air, dark wings blotting out the stars. Most of them headed straight for the tower of the Night Guard, to gather their subordinates before setting off across the land.

Sky stared after them, and then turned to Nebula. “They're just going to spread panic across the country!”

She gave a sour smile. “I expect the failure of the sunrise has already done that much.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but Belle came up beside him and touched his shoulder. He flinched at the contact, and immediately felt ashamed. He turned his head to her.

“Sky,” she said. She looked into his face, but her gaze slid away from meeting his eyes. “Thank you. I... was happy when you showed up.”

He grimaced. “Just doing my job,” he said, his voice a little too loud, a little too wild. Damn it, just being near her still left him a mess. Even with her mane in disarray, she was still so beautiful.

She caught his gaze now, and he could see the hurt in her face.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I just—”

“Well then, I'm thankful it was you who was there to do your job.”

He didn't know what to think anymore. Was this like some stage play, where the hero's bravery won over the unattainable mare's heart? Did that happen in real life? Was she giving him a second chance?

The words spilled from him on the wings of hope. “Hey, Belle, why don't we give it another—”

“Don't—” Her voice cut him off like a blade. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut for a moment. Then, with deliberation, she opened them and met his gaze. “Please don't. I... Sky Diamond, you're a good pony. You'll find someone. I'm sorry, but... I'm not the one. I wish I were.” She raised her hoof and gently stroked his cheek. “Be well, Sky,” she said. She turned, and walked back to her shop, her hooves trudging a path through the broken glass on the street as if weighted with lead.

He stared after her, helplessly rooted to the spot as she disappeared into her shop. Nebula gave him a brief moment before snapping at him.

“You planning to go get drunk on duty again, pony?”

Sky gave her a withering look. “No ma'am,” he snarled. He snapped his wings out and lashed at the air, shooting up until he hovered even with the roofline, three floors up. The wreckage of the street stretched below him, and here and there ponies crouched fearfully or ran about in panic. The sight of the chaos filled him with a sick feeling, and he barely acknowledged Nebula as she joined him.

“Aren't we supposed to be doing something?” he said, gesturing down to where a mare was hugging a sobbing colt. Another mare raced past them and turned down an alley, wild-eyed and laughing crazedly.

Nebula bit back a sour laugh. “You just saw me disperse the Night Guard across Equestria.”

Sky grimaced. He didn't like that Nebula had done it, but regardless, the Night Guard in Canterlot amounted to just the two of them now. He and Nebula were not going to restore order on their own.

“But tell me, Private Sky Diamond,” Nebula continued, “just what time is it anyway?”

Sky looked at her questioningly, then glanced across the roofscape to see Canterlot's clock tower. It read a quarter to eight. His eyes widened as comprehension swept over him. “Where is the Day Guard?” he asked.

“Exactly,” Nebula said. “They've been on duty for forty-five minutes, by the clock. So why don't we see any of them?” She boosted higher into the sky, getting a broader view of the city. Sky followed after.

“I think,” said Nebula, “that we should go find the Day Guard while we're on our way to Princess Luna.”

She soared out over the city, scanning the streets below. Sky automatically dropped into wing position, to her left and half a length back.

He peered at the city beneath. Here and there ponies were running about in a state of unrestrained panic, or huddled in near catatonia. There was no sign of the Day Guard. It was distinctly worrisome. “I hope she hasn't... done something to them.”

Nebula pursed her lips. “Did she have time? She would have had to attack their barracks before moving on to Sun Street. We would have known about that as soon as it happened.” She looked at him searchingly. “You were talking to her. How did you judge her state of mind?”

Sky thought about it. “She was dangerous... but she didn't seem she was in a hurry to start killing anypony. She seemed more eager to see their terror.” He bit at his lip. “If anypony challenged her, though...” Sky left the thought unfinished. Mercy and forgiveness did not seem to be qualities the creature he had met valued.

Since no one in the streets was keeping order, Sky spared a glance for the sky in hopes there might be pegasi of the Day Guard aloft. There were not—but he spotted a figure in the air all the same.

“Captain, heads up,” Sky warned, as the figure rushed toward them. “We've got company.”

It was a member of the Wonderbolts, in official azure and gold, with flight goggles hiked up onto his forehead. In a moment he had pulled up in front of them, hovering. He looked strained, in the manner of one who had not embraced panic, but who kept it close at hoof just in case. Sky didn't recognize him, but Nebula addressed him by name.

“Fire Streak. What's your status?”

He gave an unsettled laugh. “That's what I'd like to know. Spitfire took her squad to Ponyville to check on the Princess. The rest of us are wondering what's going on. Do you have any idea?”

“Princess Luna has returned from her banishment and has suspended the raising of the sun.”

Fire Streak stared at her. Sky felt a wave of nausea sweep through him. For her to say that, so matter-of-factly...

Fire Streak's brow furrowed. “Princess who?”

“Nightmare Moon,” Sky croaked. Nebula's head whipped his way and she gave him an acid glare.

Fire Streak just looked more confused. “Nightmare Moon is a foal's tale. She's not real.”

Sky gestured up at the cold orb in the sky, confirming what he already knew. “Do you see the Mare in the Moon? No! That's her. She's free. She's here.”

“That's enough, Private,” Nebula snapped. “Princess Luna is in a... difficult state at the moment. We must be patient. For now, the best thing you can do is to maintain order and calm the citizens.”

“Maintain order,” Fire Streak echoed weakly. “Be patient with the fairy tale monster. Calm the citizens. Okay.”

“...And on that last note,” Nebula continued, “do you have any idea where the Day Guard has got to?”

Fire Streak's ears perked up. “Well, a bunch of them are gathered at Moonbeam Heights for some reason.” He paused. “You want me to go tell them Nightmare Moon—”

“Princess Luna!” Nebula interjected.

“—is invading?”

Nebula took a deep breath. “No, that won't be necessary. Private Diamond and I will speak to them ourselves. You should focus on keeping the populace calm.”

Fire Streak gave a hesitant nod.

“Calm,” Nebula reiterated.

“Yes ma'am,” he said, and dropped away into a dive, soaring low over the rooftops. Sky watched him go, and turned back to Nebula, only to meet her ferocious glare.

“You will not refer to our princess as 'Nightmare Moon',” she said.

Sky thought of Belle, standing with her own determination. Of the creature that had took such pleasure in taunting her and sneering at him. Of his body bending to her Command against his own will. Anger rose in him.

“I've looked in her eyes. That... thing isn't Princess Luna. You've looked in her eyes too. You know what I'm saying is true. Nightmare Moon is what she calls herself.”

Nebula met his gaze without a flinch. “So what? If a pony calls herself a monster... or a failure or useless... are we obliged to agree? We needn't name her that. And we won't.”

“Are you so sure we'll have a choice?" He shook his head. "She... when she decided she'd had enough of me, she... did something. With her voice. She told me to sit, and I sat. It didn't matter what I wanted.”

Nebula frowned. “Nerves,” she said. “Under stress, sometimes, the strength can go out of you.”

Sky shook his head rapidly. “It wasn't like that,” he insisted.

“I've seen combat, Sky. The first time, sometimes you're just not ready—”

Sky gave a disgusted shrug. It was plain that she was not going to listen. “Believe that if you want to. Look, let's just go find the Day Guard and see what Silver Dawn is up to.”

Nebula considered him a moment, then flapped toward Moonbeam Heights. Sky matched her pace.

“Silver Dawn is on vacation, you know,” Nebula said. “Weren't you paying attention at this week's briefing?”

Sky's lip curled. “If you hadn't noticed, I've been rather busy having my heart ripped out and stomped on until it's a miserable paste of loneliness on the sidewalk of despair.”

Nebula ignored his bout of self-pity. “Crap,” she muttered. “That means Tin Whistle is in command.”

“Who's Tin Whistle?”

She made a sound of disgust. “Relative of Blueblood. It's all about politics. No doubt somebody figured giving him the command while Silver was on vacation would stroke enough egos without making too much a mess of things. I really hope they aren't seriously eyeing him for when Silver retires.”

“Oh, now you're the cynical one. You never know, maybe he'll surprise you.”

Nebula just shook her head and flew on.

They came up to Moonbeam Heights. It was a hillside district in the wealthy quarter of the city, littered with the mansions of the Canterlot elite. The soft glow from various windows and the pinpoints of lanterns scattered throughout the gardens made the hill sparkle like an earthly constellation. But as they drew close, Sky picked out groups of the Day Guard putting up improvised barricades at the entrances to the district and patrolling the area.

“Oh, he's surprised me, all right,” Nebula snorted. “What the hell are they doing?”

They started to circle, looking for a command post. Within moments, a pegasus swooped to their side.

“Halt! Who goes—oh, batpo... err, the Night Guard, I presume?”

“Quite,” Nebula said, favoring the pegasus with an icy stare that was probably lost on him in the moonlight. “Captain Nebula of the Night Guard. Where's your CO?”

“Yes ma'am, this way ma'am,” he said, and led them in a gradual arc downward.

“Umm, ma'am, if I may ask,” the pegasus added, “what's going on?”

“That's my question for your boss,” Nebula said. Then, evidently thinking better of it, she added, “Princess Luna has returned. She's still getting acclimated.”

Acclimated? Sky nearly choked.

The pegasus looked even more confused by Nebula's explanation, but opted not to press his questions. He led them down to a broad lawn before a sprawling mansion. Command tents were still in the process of being set up, and members of the Guard were hurrying about.

They landed at a discreet distance from the commander of the Day Guard. Tin Whistle was a middle-aged stallion with an eponymous cutie mark that suggested a surprising perspicacity in his parents, or possibly was simply one of those coincidences that happened from time to time. In any case, the whistle on his flank was far outshone by the full parade regalia he was wearing.

“Peacock,” Nebula muttered.

At the moment, he was locked in an energetic discussion with one of his lieutenants, a white unicorn stallion with some sort of shield cutie mark. A mustachioed civilian in a neatly trimmed jacket stood with them, lips pursed into a tentative frown.

Sky swiveled his ears to try to catch the conversation, but Nebula was already moving to join them with long, purposeful strides. He hurried after her, listening as best he could to what the lieutenant was saying to Tin Whistle.

“—just don't think that concentrating all our forces here is what we should be doing, sir.”

Tin Whistle gave the lieutenant a patronizing pat on the shoulder. “Now, now, m'boy. I see that you lack vision, a sense of the big picture, a feel for grand strategy. This is why command is left to your betters, such as myself.”

“Sir,” the lieutenant acknowledged in a tone so tightly restrained that Sky was surprised not to see steam leaking from his ears.

The civilian moved in. “To be honest, Captain, the lad makes a fair point. Most of us here have our own security staff, after all; and the city could sorely stand to see the Day Guard's presence.”

“Bless your kind-hearted soul, mister Fancy Pants, but I'm afraid the dictates of the situation—”

Nebula reached the cluster of ponies and broke in abruptly. “Captain Tin Whistle, I presume?”

Tin Whistle glanced her way with an air of dismissive irritation, then started and stared at her. “C-Captain, ahh, Nebula... of the Night Guard.”

“Indeed,” Nebula said. “May I ask as to this... unexpected disposition of your forces?”

Tin Whistle cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. It was my determination that in view of the unspecified nature of the situation, the best course of action was to, as the great Naponylon advised, concentrate our forces in preparation for a counterattack.”

“Counterattack against what?”

“As I said, the situation is unstable.”

Nebula frowned and looked about. “It seems to me that you are preparing this district for a siege.”

“Well, one cannot judge the temper of the masses. We must protect the inhabitants from any misguided rioting of the commoners.”

Nebula raised an eyebrow at the word “commoners.”

“Which is why we need to be patrolling the city, sir!” Tin Whistle's lieutenant interrupted.

Tin Whistle rounded on him. “I've had enough of your insubordinate attitude, Lieutenant Shining Armor. You are dismissed!”

Nebula glanced from one to the other. “Hold up a moment, Captain. Indulge me, and let him stay. I think it's always worthwhile to hear a variety of opinions from the ranks.”

Tin Whistle harrumphed. Nebula cocked an eye at Shining Armor.

“So Lieutenant,” she said, “what do you think the Day Guard should be doing?”

“Patrols,” he answered immediately. “We need to be seen maintaining order, so as to keep the citizenry calm, and we need to assess the state of the city. Walking patrols through all the districts, and pegasus cover to help guide patrols to any hot spots. Then we need to try to locate Celestia—”

“Spitfire took a squad of the Wonderbolts to Celestia's last known location,” Nebula said.

“Right. Okay, so liaise with the Wonderbolts.”

Tin Whistle snorted. “The colt pretends the crisis has passed. Those are post-disaster tactics, inappropriate for the present urgency. An attack may occur at any moment!”

Nebula swung her head his way and gave him a dire look. She glanced around at the finely landscaped gardens and the colorfully decorated mansions. “So you're... here?”

“Absolutely! The most important ponies in Canterlot live here!”

Fancy Pants coughed delicately. “I like to think,” he said, “that every pony in Canterlot—nay, Equestria itself—is among the most important of ponies.

Sky found himself grinning, and nearly started clapping his hooves against the ground in applause. Nebula just rolled her eyes.

“Mister Fancy Pants,” Tin Whistle said, “that is indeed a noble sentiment; but the truth remains that the foremost figures in government, commerce and even the arts reside in these environs. It is of utmost importance that we insure they are well-guarded; and I, Tin Whistle, intend to do precisely that.”

Sky noticed a number of the Day Guard had found excuses to stay within earshot by setting up tents and checking on nearby lamps. Most of them had sour expressions on their faces. He had a feeling Tin Whistle's judgement was not so well-respected among his subordinates.

“You like sucking up to the rich, Captain?” Nebula asked.

The camp suddenly became very quiet.

Tin Whistle turned toward her slowly. “I beg your pardon?”

Nebula shrugged. “It seems to me that the tactical situation you have engineered is incomprehensible under these circumstances, unless one regards it as a political operation intended to impress the wealthy and powerful residents of this particular district.”

Tin Whistle sputtered at her. “That's absurd! You're going to criticize me? I don't see you batponies doing anything!”

“Ah yes, when there is no good response, go on the attack. As for the Night Guard, unfortunately they have been dispersed across Equestria on orders of our princess.”

Tin Whistle gawped. “You've been in contact with Celestia?”

Nebula's lips thinned. “I didn't say that.”

A look of horror filled Tin Whistle's face. Sky saw the ponies of the Day Guard exchanging uneasy glances as well.

“Just what is going on, here?” Tin Whistle demanded.

“Princess Luna has returned from her exile,” Nebula said in that matter-of-fact manner that made Sky cringe.

“Princess who?” Tin Whistle furrowed his brow. “Your 'princess' is the one responsible for this, isn't she? Your kind have gone over to the enemy! I always knew you batponies were a shady bunch!”

Nebula answered in a tone of cold steel. “I assure you, Captain, my loyalty to Equestria is absolute.” She glanced at the gathering ponies of the Day Guard. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered.

She turned back to Tin Whistle, her gaze a blade. “Who are you trying to impress? Looking to advance in the Guard? Or is it for afterward? Do you mean to retire into politics? Looking for a patron? You know, and every pony here knows, that your lieutenant has the right of it. Holed up on Moonbeam Heights is the last place you need to be.” She cocked her head to the side in thought. “In fact, I'll wager there's no chance a place with a name like 'Moonbeam Heights' is in danger.”

Tin Whistle snorted in contempt. “An intuition. How nice for you. I've had enough of your thinly veiled slanders, Captain; not to mention your shocking lack of concern for the lives of your betters who reside here.”

“Now see here—” Fancy Pants interrupted at that last point, but Tin Whistle overrode his voice.

“And frankly, I am offended by your manner, barging in and disrupting my operation. I'll have you know I take the chain of command very seriously; and so I'll remind you this is the day shift, and thus the Captain of the Day Guard has command of the Royal Guard as a whole. It is not for you to second-guess my military judgement!”

Nebula's shark-grin was terrifying to behold. Sky shivered at the memory of the times it had borne down upon him.

“Captain,” she said, in a tone of icy pleasure, “you may wish to check those regulations again. The Day Guard's time of preeminence is not measured by the ticking of a clock, but by the sun's presence in the sky. Do you see the sun?”

Tin Whistle's glance flicked upward for a fraction of a second, then snapped back to bore into Nebula. “Poppycock!” he said. “If that is even true, it's merely an accident of archaic wording, never intended for the situation we find ourselves in.”

“Hmm,” said Nebula. “What an inventive argument. You do recall the entire code governing the Royal Guard was revised not a decade ago?”

Tin Whistle harrumphed. “Of course there would have been oversights.”

Nebula sighed. “Captain, I am going to give you one more chance. Will the Day Guard protect the peace of Canterlot—all of Canterlot—or will you hide on this hill while the citizens panic?”

Tin Whistle exploded. “I will not have some batpony nag questioning my professional judgement!”

Nebula gave a tight little nod. “Right. Then on my authority as Captain-General of the Royal Guard under the Night Sky, I'm relieving you of your duties. You are free to appeal to Princess Celestia...” her voice faltered for a moment, “in the morning.”

“You haven't the right!” Tin Whistle snarled.

“I have just explained how I do, in fact, have the right,” Nebula said.

The ponies of the Day Guard exchanged uncertain glances. Sky bit his lip. The moment was precarious. There was no guarantee that the Day Guard would respect Nebula's position. Or worse yet, some might and some might not, provoking an internal squabble they could ill afford.

Nebula seemed unconcerned with the possibility. She quickly faced the lieutenant from earlier.

“Shining Armor, was it?”

“Ma'am!” The stallion drew himself up and saluted.

“I'm giving you a field promotion to Captain of the Day Guard. Congratulations.”

Shining Armor's eyes widened.

“Disregard that order!” Tin Whistle roared.

Shining Armor looked from Nebula to Tin Whistle and back. The moment hung in the balance. Sky could sense Shining Armor wasn't the type to take advantage of a situation for his own aggrandizement. But just as obvious was his frustration with the incompetence of Tin Whistle.

Shining looked into the gathering crowd of the Day Guard, studying each face in turn. Sky realized every one of them was looking back at Shining Armor, with not a single glance spared for Tin Whistle.

At last Shining nodded. “I hope to serve honorably,” he said. Sky heard a low rumble of applause start from the guardsponies, but it was quickly drowned out by Tin Whistle's squawks of outrage.

“This is a travesty! You hooflicking little suck-up, I promise you your career is over! You've been taken in by this treacherous batpony!”

Shining Armor sighed. “Spirit, Flash, would you escort Captain Tin Whistle to his quarters? He seems overwrought.”

“You treacherous viper!” he shouted as the two led him away. “I have friends, you know! Ponies with influence! I hope you like freezing your tail off on the northern frontier, Shining Armor!”

Nebula cut in. “I'm the one who promoted him, so have your 'friends' talk to me.”

The two guards escorted him into his tent, where his imprecations were at least muffled.

Shining Armor turned to Nebula. “Thank you, ma'am, I—”

“Don't thank me, I made a command decision,” Nebula snapped.

“Ah, right. Yes ma'am. Then can you update me on the situation, ma'am?”

Nebula snorted. “The Night Guard is dispersed across Equestria. This manurebreath—” she gestured to Sky “—and I are on our way to report to our princess, Princess Luna. Which means Canterlot rests on your wings.” She paused, evidently registering that she was speaking to a unicorn. “Er, that is—”

“I understand the metaphor, Captain,” Shining Armor said. “I want to know what we're dealing with in this... Princess Luna. What do you mean by saying she is your princess?”

Nebula's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “She is our princess, that's all. She made us. Just before her banishment. Her pegasus honor guard displeased her, and so she remade them into us.”

Shining Armor's mouth dropped open. “Wait, are you telling me you're actually pegasi?”

Nebula's ears flicked in irritation. “No, we are vesperquines. We have not been pegasi for forty generations. Captain, edifying as it is to have somepony actually show an interest in our history, I'm afraid I don't have much time for this.”

Shining Armor winced. “Right, sorry. Then just one more thing. I hate to ask you this, but is your princess responsible for the sun not rising?”

Nebula sighed and closed her eyes. “That is... indeed the case.”

“Then what of Celestia? Did she harm Celestia?”

“I don't know.”

Shining Armor gulped. “Is Celestia still alive?”

“I... don't know.”

Sky felt his stomach flutter at those words. A scant few hours ago he had been talking to Celestia. Nightmare Moon had spoken of defeating her, but the possibility that she might actually be dead had never even crossed his mind. A terrifying abyss opened in his mind at the thought, and the world swayed around him, unmoored.

Shining Armor looked ill as well. Nonetheless he carried on. “You told Tin Whistle your loyalty to Equestria was absolute. It doesn't seem like your princess shares that attitude.”

Nebula's eyes snapped open. She looked at Shining Armor with an unsettling intensity. “She will.”

Sky could hardly believe what he was hearing. Had she not seen her? Princess Luna—no, Nightmare Moon, dripping with shadows and madness? How could Nebula say such a thing? Laughter bubbled from his throat, startling him with its rawness.

“Shut it down, soldier!” Nebula barked at him.

Sky stared at her, then glanced to Shining Armor. “He needs to know,” Sky said.

“What are you going on about now?” Nebula asked.

Sky directed his answer to Shining Armor. “She can command us against our will.”

Nebula rolled her eyes. “You were frightened. You froze up. Sometimes it happens.”

“It wasn't like that,” Sky growled. He stared into her eyes defiantly. “It wasn't like that at all.”

She held his gaze for a long moment. He could sense his own doom in her hard eyes, the promise of thousands of laps around the Night Guard training course. But he'd be damned if he was going to back down over her rejection of the truth.

To his surprise, it was she whose gaze flinched away. “There's no time for this crap,” she snarled, and launched herself into a hover. “Shining Armor, you must follow your own judgement; but I promise you, this night will not last forever." With a flick of her wings, she arced higher. "Sky Diamond, to me," she called. "We have detoured enough on the way to our princess.”

Sky followed her up, sparing a backward glance at Shining Armor. For a moment, the unicorn tried to track their progress, but his eyes were plainly ill-suited to the night. He turned to his soldiers, and began snapping out orders.

Sky fell in beside Nebula. She held to a sedate pace toward the palace.

“You must like flying twenty-furlong wind sprints, Private. You're going to be doing a lot of them,” she said in a dry tone.

Sky flickered a smile. “I thought it was clear I was aiming for the brig.”

“That'd be much too easy on you.” She glanced alongside at him, and pursed her lips.

“Are you thinking of running?” she asked.

Startled, he paused, hovering in place.

“Yes,” he said. “That's exactly what we should do.”

She twisted her wings and flipped around in front of him, nose to nose. “Celestia offered to undo the Blessing, and remake you into a pegasus pony. You turned her down.”

“I didn't exactly know this was coming!”

“So what are you saying? You'd take her up on it now?”

Sky hovered, silently scowling.

“That offer has always been open to us. And you've always turned it down.”

Sky backpedaled from her, and crossed his front legs across his chest. “So what's your point?”

“You're a vesperquine. Not a pegasus. You don't want to be a pegasus. You love the night, and you want to go on loving the night. And inside you there is something that longs for our princess, and will never give up hope for her.”

Sky kicked at the air with one hind hoof. “And maybe she put that in us too,” he snarled. “You've seen her! How can you even talk this way? She's no princess of cool evening breezes and lovers' trysts. She's Nightmare Moon! Whatever was Princess Luna, whatever part of her that was, she put it aside and forgot it long ago.”

Nebula gave a sharp nod. “Then we have to remind her.”

There it was. Straightforward and without a moment of doubt. As if the matter were simply some equation Nebula had long since solved.

Sky was appalled. “You're mad. What are we supposed to remind her of? The way ponies feared and hated her night; or maybe we should help her recall how she had no friends?”

Nebula gave him a cool stare. “No, Sky. We show her we're her friends. We show her we've been waiting for her all this time. We show her we haven't forgotten her true self, Princess Luna.”

Sky hovered. The city spread out beneath him in moon-lit splendor. Off in the distance, Canterlot Palace rose high above the rooftops.

“Sky,” Nebula said quietly, “our ancestors dreamed of this chance.”

Slowly he raised his head to meet her gaze.

“They dreamed of Princess Luna. Not...” he gestured toward the palace, “...that.”

Nebula came up, nose to nose with him. “That is Princess Luna, Sky. She's there, lost in the darkness. She needs friends to show her the way out.”

Sky bit back a laugh, for fear it would turn into hysterical gibbering. “Friends. Meaning us.”

Nebula's voice was gentle. “Who else does she have, Sky?”

He broke her gaze. He didn't want to hear her, didn't want her to make that claim upon him. But truly, in all the world, it was the vesperquines who held the memory of Luna close. It was the vesperquines who cherished her, and her night.

And try as he might, he could not reconcile the pony of those tales with the thing that had sneered and mocked at him as he stood between it and Belle Dancer.

Sky squeezed his eyes shut. “I... can't,” he whispered. “I can't do this.”

Nebula sighed. “Sky, you have to. We have to. Who's going to pull her out of that if not us?”

Sky opened his eyes and looked at her with a pained expression. Nebula bit at her lip.

“Look, Sky,” she said, “she's waiting for us. Both of us. We're all she has. Even if... even if you don't believe, at least pretend. Call her Princess Luna, even if you think it's a lie.”

Sky said nothing. Nebula's sudden earnestness was unsettling.

“And,” she added, “this is important, Sky. You can't ever call her Nightmare Moon.”

“Well, you're a little late on that one,” he said.

She gave an irritated little shake of the head. “Never again, Sky. She is Princess Luna. Always Princess Luna.”

Sky snorted. “Is that an order?”

She gave an impatient snort. “Of course it's an order, you dumbass! Heaven forbid you be left to think for yourself. I can see it right now: 'Private Sky Diamond, how shall we counter the griffon attack?' Your eyes gradually focus on a dust mote just in front of your nose. 'I like hay fries,' you mumble; and then we all become subjects of the Aerie.”

A trace of a smile crossed Sky's lips. This was more like the Nebula he knew.

“Now come on,” she continued. “We've got our princess to meet.”

Night Flight

“There," Nebula said. "See?”

Sky stepped to her side on the stray cloud they had landed upon. He followed the line of her pointing hoof. Ponyville's lights were visible a mile or so off, twinkling in the darkness like a department store window full of Hearth's Warming Eve lights; but she was pointing above the town, not at it.

He picked out the figure, patrolling above what looked to be the town hall. “Blaze...?” he said.

“Look again, day-eyes, that's Spitfire.”

Sky peered at the distant pegasus. Sure enough, though Blaze also had an orange mane, this one had Spitfire's thicker shock of hair.

“So Spitfire's squad is still here,” he murmured.

Nightmare Moon hovered beside their little cloud. “Of what import, those pegasi?”

“They're Wonderbolts,” Nebula explained. “An elite group of pegasus flyers in service of the realm. Usually they perform precision flying drills at various state events, but make no mistake, they are well-trained and dangerous adversaries.”

“Every pegasus wants to be in the Wonderbolts,” Sky added.

Nightmare gave a little frown. “And you... 'vesperquines' as well?”

Sky shrugged. “We can maneuver better than any pegasus, but we can seldom match their speed. We aren't a good fit for the Wonderbolts.”

She raised her head and and eyed the distant pegasus.

“They won't see us this far off,” Sky said. “Pegasus eyes aren't meant for the night like ours are, so they won't be able to... uhh....” He trailed off, realizing how stupid he sounded explaining his night vision to the creature who was responsible for it.

Nebula came to his rescue. “They're investigating Celestia's disappearance.”

Nightmare Moon snorted. “They'll find nothing. She is sealed away well beyond their reach.”

Sky could sense a tension leaving Nebula.

“So, she is alive,” Nebula said.

Nightmare gave her a sharp look. “She is sealed away until such time as I may properly deal with her,” she said.

What was “properly deal with her” supposed to mean? He feared the answer. Then he paused to wonder why Nightmare Moon hadn't taken care of it from the start.

That first glimpse of her in the palace, she'd seemed... worn out. Exhausted. She'd hidden it immediately, but Sky wondered just how much her escape—not to mention her confrontation with her sister—had taken out of her. Maybe she wasn't capable of “properly dealing with” Celestia now.

Maybe she was vulnerable.

But he remembered her voice piercing him like a spear. Even weakened, she could still take command of his own body away from him. And “vulnerable” was a relative thing. What could he do with the knowledge? Even if she really were down to the dregs of her power, she still far outclassed him. She had casually strolled down Sun Street leaving scarred wreckage in her wake, after all.

Nightmare Moon snorted. “Come. Those 'Wonderbolts' are of no account. Our business lies not in Ponyville, but in the forest.” She winged away from them with a surge and headed for the wild canopy of trees that stood athwart Ponyville. Nebula and Sky kicked off their cloud and chased after.

“Princess Luna,” Nebula said as she caught up, “the Wonderbolts aren't going to drop this. If anyone in Ponyville saw you—”

“Oh, indeed, I made a fine entrance,” she said proudly. “They won't soon forget me.”

Nebula grimaced. “All right then. The Wonderbolts are going to come hunting us, as soon as they piece everything together.”

“Then I will deal with them when they meddle,” Nightmare said sharply. “For now, there is a band of six rebels I mean to make an example of!”

She beat her wings forcefully and shot forward above the treetops. Nebula and Sky struggled to catch up to her, and for a while it seemed as if she was going to pull away from them fully. But after a bit she let her pace drop back to an easy cruise, and the two vesperquines were able to fall into formation with her.

Beneath them, the dark leaves rippled in the nighttime breeze. Branches clawed up from the morass of vegetation as if eager to scratch at the sky. Here and there the canopy of trees broke open to reveal a trace of river, like a scar in the forest; or an open glade that seemed as invitingly sinister as the bloom of a carnivorous plant.

Nightmare Moon observed it all, her face slowly falling into a puzzled frown. “The forest runs riot,” she said. “Has no pony seen fit to organize this wilderness?”

Nebula shrugged as best she could in mid-flight. “Pegasi say the clouds are unruly. Earth ponies have trouble working the land.”

“Surely the denizens of Everfree City have learned how to manage such matters.”

Nebula paused for a long moment.

“There is no Everfree City,” she said at last.

Nightmare Moon's wings flared wide, bringing her to an abrupt halt. She spun to face them, and hovered with a fierce look on her face.

“What is this you tell me?”

Sky gulped at her intensity. “It's gone. Most ponies don't even remember the name.”

“It was the grandest metropolis in Equestria! A center of trade and learning!”

“It was grievously damaged in the conflict between you and Princess Celestia,” Nebula explained.

Nightmare Moon scoffed. “Ponies rebuild!”

Sky struggled to remember his own lessons in vesperquine history, those classes he had been most inclined to sleep through. “The land itself was damaged,” he said. “The forces the Princesses called upon warped the very nature of this place...” He trailed off as Nightmare Moon glared at him.

She gestured downward at the eerie forest. “Are you saying I am responsible for this grotesquerie?”

Sky shook his head fearfully. “No, no I—”

“Because it was my sister who jealously tried to choke off my beautiful night. It was my sister who monopolized the love of the ponies. It was my sister who chose to wage war upon me!”

Sky opened his mouth to object. He scarcely knew Celestia—in fact, the longest stretch of time he'd spent in her presence had been at the start of this evening, so long ago. Nebula knew her far better. And yet, he was certain the Celestia Nightmare Moon spoke of was but a vision of her own spite, and not the Celestia he'd made tea for. He felt a calm certainty that his Celestia would not—could not—act as Nightmare Moon described.

But Nebula spoke before he could.

“Princess Celestia has regretted what passed between you for these last thousand years.”

Nightmare Moon snorted in derision. “She learned fear. The coward would not even give me the satisfaction of a decent fight. She begged to reconcile even as I sealed her away. I do hope her agents will give better sport... though I shall kill them in short order all the same.”

She laughed then, a vile pleasure in her voice as she shifted her wings and resumed her flight. Sky winced to hear it, and his resolve not to flee quaked like a leaf in a windstorm. This... this creature was not the Princess Luna precious to the memory of the vesperquines.

What if that Princess Luna was gone forever?

Generation after generation of vesperquines, setting their faith in the Blessing, pining for their princess, all in vain....

Nebula glanced his way. “Buck up, soldier,” she said. “No moping on duty.”

Sky glared, but Nebula dismissed him, and winged her way up even with Nightmare Moon. The alicorn flicked an ear at her, but otherwise did not acknowledge her presence. As they flew, Sky caught sight of a streak of blue smoke ripping toward them through the air. It merged with Nightmare's mane, doubtless bearing fresh information to her. Just how much of Equestria she had spread herself across in this way?

In the distance, a series of rocky escarpments appeared, breaking free of the trees like dolphins cleaving the water. Nightmare Moon pointed a hoof at them. “The clever unicorn who could name me in Ponyville and her friends are crossing the mountains there.”

Sky supposed the wisp of mane had just brought her that information. But why would any pony be running into the Everfree.

“Aren't they just running away...?” he murmured.

Nightmare Moon looked back over her shoulder at him. “They have scraped the dust from old tomes and convinced themselves the weapon which banished me is to be found within the palace my sister and I shared. As if Celestia would leave it to rot in some musty hall!”

“The Elements of Harmony,” Nebula breathed.

Nightmare glanced at her, sourly. “Well, well, well. This land is full of scholars.”

He didn't know anything about any Elements of Harmony. Either Nebula had been digging through old archives, or that had been another sleep-day in history class.

“Our kind have kept records,” Nebula said. “Old histories about you, personal reminiscences, reports of your deeds and words...”

“What a depressing choice of hobbies.”

“...So we know of the Elements of Harmony that you wielded with Celestia. Your Optimism, Devotion and Integrity to Celestia's Charity, Compassion and Leadership.”

“Yes. I carried weak little virtues, all the better to be exploited by. What was my Optimism but naivete? What was my Devotion, save a means to take advantage of me? What was my Integrity other than a cowardice that kept me from acting on my own behalf?”

“Princess Luna, that isn't—”

Nightmare interrupted, ears sleeking back in anger. “And then there is you, who only wishes to see the meek little pony I was.”

Nebula's jaw dropped. There was a flash of pain in her eyes. She made no response, and Sky stared at her. Why did she not react, why was she not busting into drill sergeant mode and tearing into Nightmare Moon, correcting her assumptions, as Nebula liked to put it? Although, obviously, that would be an act of suicide; yet all the same, Nebula was being downright docile, and that was a frightening wrongness in the order of things.

She's not sure how to handle Nightmare Moon either! The moment the thought entered his mind he recoiled from it. If Nebula of all ponies had lost her sarcastic self-assurance, how much hope could either of them have of finding a way through this?

They drew near the range of low mountains now. Nightmare Moon guided them to a long ridge cresting the tallest of them, and set down on the uneven stone. Around them, the Everfree stretched for mile upon mile, a gently rolling sea of green painted nearly black in the moonlight. The leaves rippled in the currents of air like the skin of some enormous beast, twitching in uneasy dreams.

Nebula landed beside Nightmare Moon with a soft clack of her hooves on the rock. She cleared her throat and addressed the alicorn.

“Princess Luna,” she said with deliberation, “what I was trying to say, is that Celestia has not been able to use the Elements since she banished you, so they could well remain in the old castle.”

Dark thunder gathered on Nightmare Moon's brow at Nebula's address, but it dissipated as the words sunk in. “She cannot use the Elements?”

Nebula nodded. “'Lost her connection to them,' I think is how she puts it.”

The alicorn's face split into a grin and she cackled in glee.

Nebula ignored the outburst. “I was thinking, if we fly ahead and remove the Elements from the castle, we can leave this little group of ponies to go searching in vain while we get back to Canterlot to finish reorganizing the government.”

She was met with a withering look. “They have set themselves in rebellion against me. A price must be extracted.”

Nebula made a placating gesture with one hoof. “But imagine them as they discover no trace of the Elements. Their dismay and confusion, surely that is price enough?”

“No, I think not,” Nightmare said. Her mane spilled down to the rocky ground at her feet and then broke apart, scattering like racing snakes. The glowing wisps of mane sped across the contours of the mountain in every direction. She closed her eyes and murmured, “Find them... and bring them to grief.”

Sky didn't like the sound of that. By the looks of it, neither did Nebula, for she darted up and hastily spoke.

“Princess, allow us to locate these renegades!”

Nightmare Moon's lips curled into a lazy smile. “As you wish,” she said indifferently. Sky bit his lip, alarmed by her casual response.

Nebula looked across the stony ridge to where Sky hovered. “Find those ponies,” she shouted, and then shot off along her side of the mountain.

Sky followed suit, scanning the terrain for any sign of the ponies. He flew out along the mountain's flank, pulling high into the air so as to see more of the slope. Here and there, he caught glimpses of Nightmare Moon's mane, a smoky glow that rushed among the boulders and the shrubs that covered the mountain. He pulled back to gain a wider view of the terrain, supplementing his vision with chirps to try to pick out the shapes of the renegade ponies with his ears.

What did Nebula mean for him to do if he did find them? Convince them to turn back, maybe? But would ponies brave enough to venture into the Everfree be so simply deterred? What could he possibly tell them except that they should be terrified—but then they would not be out here to begin with if they hadn't already set their fears aside. With a touch of shame, he found himself hoping they were on Nebula's side of the mountain, and he wouldn't have to deal with them.

Naturally it was then that he spotted them, hearing the shapes of six ponies in the echo of his chirp. He focused his gaze their way and started closing the distance to them—he had flown out quite a way to be able to scan as much of the slope as possible—just as the shelf of rock they stood upon crumbled beneath their hooves.

He gasped in horror and surged toward them, but there was no way he would reach them in time. From the straightness of the break's edge, he could tell this was no natural collapse. Though he was too far away to see it, he was sure a fragment of Nightmare Moon's mane had been responsible.

So then. He was intended to watch their deaths rather than chase them back home.

But they did not die. Instead he witnessed the amazing surefootedness of earth ponies, alongside the obvious ability of pegasi to spurn the ground. Only the unicorns of the party were in real danger, and the two pegasi had already caught one up and were lowering her to the foot of the mountain.

There was one other unicorn, who hung from the edge of the broken slab of rock. Sky gasped as he recognized her. Twilight Sparkle. Princess Celestia's book-obsessed student. The pony she'd sent to Ponyville.

His heart leapt to his throat as he saw her suddenly drop, but an instant later the two pegasi caught her up in their hooves and gently lowered her to the ground by the other unicorn.

He slowed his flight and furrowed his brow. Was it possible Celestia had sent her to Ponyville knowing what would happen? Knowing she would seek a way to stop Nightmare Moon? He thought back to Celestia's visit with Nebula. The Princess had been... enigmatic at best.

For a moment he hovered in the dark sky, and watched the six ponies below regather themselves and set forth into the forest once more. Then he winged his way upward, racing along the rising flanks of the ridge until he crested the escarpment and the tumbled stone fell away beneath his hooves.

He looked about, trying to spot Nebula, but she eluded his gaze. He gave a chirp, hoping to hear her shape, though she might be too far off for him to discern anything of her form. And indeed, he did not spot her with his ears, although a moment later he heard an answering chirp from somewhere further along the slope. He hurried toward it, and before long Nebula rose up before him.

“Report, Private,” she snapped.

“Ma'am, there were six ponies. She—" he glanced beyond her shoulder, to where they had left Nightmare Moon "—collapsed a cliff underneath them. They managed to weather it without injury. They're off the mountain now.” He sensed a subtle relaxation in her body at the news, as of a tension she'd carefully hidden being loosed. She nodded.

“Two earth ponies, two unicorns, two pegasi,” he continued. “One of the unicorns is Celestia's student... I didn't recognize any of the others.”

“Hmm,” Nebula mused. “She was in Ponyville... it's to be expected, I suppose. I wonder if she brought the others as an entourage from Canterlot, or if she's been busy making friends in Ponyville, like Cee told her to.”

Sky chewed the thought over. “I can't really say, but... the impression we had back in Canterlot was that she wasn't the type to make friends quickly." He paused, then hastened to add, "But it's not like we knew her very well."

Nebula pursed her lips and shrugged. “No matter, I suppose. We'd best inform Princess Luna.”

She set out back the way they had come. Sky fell in beside her, still musing over Twilight Sparkle. The more he thought about her presence here, the more agitated his mind became. At last he spoke.

“Captain, do you think... I mean, Celestia...”

“Spit it out, Private.”

“Celestia sent that unicorn out here, her personal student, right? And since she's her personal student, she probably already knows all sorts of things, like about the Elements. And now she's leading a mission to find them and fight—” he bit back the name of Nightmare Moon, “—the Princess.”

Nebula nodded guardedly.

“Don't you think Celestia anticipated that? That she knew this was coming, and planned for it? She's the one who picked Ponyville, the town right by the Everfree, for the Summer Sun Celebration this year; and she's the one who sent her personal student here to prepare. Doesn't it all seem... very convenient? And... I mean, if Twilight Sparkle is part of Celestia's plan, then shouldn't we be trying to help her, instead of...” he gestured ahead, toward Nightmare Moon.

Nebula rounded on him. She stabbed her own hoof in the direction Sky had indicated. “That is our princess. If we betray her now, what difference is there between us and our ancestors who stood aside and watched as she fell? For a thousand years we've sworn to do better. For a thousand years we've been faithful to the memory of the princess who created us. We won't abandon her this time.”

“She wants to murder ponies, ma'am.”

Nebula grimaced. “That isn't her true self.”

“Isn't it?” Sky spat. “Because I haven't see much evidence otherwise!”

She glared at him. “Cee has told us what Princess Luna is like time and again. We know—”

“Celestia remembers what she wants. Maybe she's fooling herself.” A reckless anger swept through him, but in the next moment it poured away like water from a broken bottle, leaving behind nothing but a dulled feeling of despair. “Maybe nothing's left of the Princess Luna she remembers.”

“Something is left. Watch for it, Sky Diamond. Watch for it, and when you see it, don't let go.”

Sky flattened his ears. “It must be a fine thing to have no doubts.”

Nebula just gave a weary shake of the head and swept round to head back toward Nightmare Moon.

He pressed on. “You don't mind if Twilight Sparkle is killed? You'll sabotage Celestia's plan?”

She sighed. “Celestia doesn't have plans, Sky. Celestia has assets. Celestia has ponies she trusts to think for themselves, and to act on their own. Celestia has ponies who will try to do the right thing, even though it may be hard to see what that thing is. That Twilight Sparkle pony is one of Celestia's assets, yes. But so are we.”

“Us?” Sky's voice barked out, jumping with incredulity. “Whatever we are, we don't belong to Princess Celestia.”

“That's right, Sky. That's the point. We don't belong to Celestia. Luna is our Princess. That's what Celestia is counting on.”

They flew on in silence as Sky digested what Nebula was trying to say. “Because we're the only ones who remember her,” he said at last.

“She's in pain, and she needs friends, Sky. Right now, that's you and me.”

Sky's ears drooped.

“You've got to stop thinking of her as Nightmare Moon,” Nebula continued. “It's not helping you or her.”

He shook his head, rejecting her.

Nebula watched him for a time, flying onward silently. After a while she spoke quietly. “For the record, Sky, I don't intend to see Twilight Sparkle killed. But neither do I intend to let her use the Elements to banish Princess Luna again.”

The crumpled slope rolled along beneath his hooves, and the great forest spread outward, sighing in its slow nocturnal rhythms. At last, he muttered, “Well then, I hope you have a plan.”

“Yeah, I plan to leave it all to you,” she said with a snort.

Sky opened his mouth to make a retort, but at that moment they cleared a ridge and Nightmare Moon came into view. She stood in the moonlight like an onyx sculpture, cold and beautiful. Her mane rippled and flowed eerily about her, and her helm glowed softly with the borrowed light of the moon.

Sky tried to see Princess Luna in her, mentally superimposing the stained-glass figures in Nebula's office onto the creature standing on the mountain. But of course the images in glass were too stylized to mean anything, the glass itself cut centuries after the last ponies to have stood in Luna's presence had died. Try as he might, he could not resolve the Luna he knew from vesperquine legend and lore with the being whose cold gaze angled up to watch Nebula and him alight before her.

His hooves clacked upon the stone, and his weight settled into his legs as he folded his leathery wings to his sides. Beside him, Nebula bent down in a bow to Nightmare Moon, and he quickly followed suit.

As he rose, Nightmare Moon murmured, “How congenial you must find my company, to hurry back so.”

Sky regarded her nervously. Was she making a sarcastic complaint over the time they'd taken to return? Maybe she was simply mocking them for returning at all.

Nebula ignored her tone. “Princess,” she reported, “there was a rockfall, but all of the ponies escaped unharmed.”

Nightmare's gaze was impassive. She spread her wings and kicked off the stone, climbing into the air with a fierce rush. Sky groaned as Nebula leapt after her, and followed, wondering just how much flying he was going to end up doing this night.

“Yes,” Nightmare said. “I know. Simple physics lacks the force that malice brings. I should have ensured there was a mind behind the violence to begin with. No matter, I have located a suitable beast to do a better job of it.”

Nebula winced. “Princess Luna, please, there's no need to harm these ponies.”

“Need? But of course there's no need. I choose it.” Her lips pulled back into a sneering grin.

A pained expression crossed Nebula's face, and her lips set tightly, her distress plain to see. The trees had fallen far below by now, but her hooves pawed at the sky all the same, showing her agitation as she flew. Nightmare Moon took note, and gave her a long stare.

“You talk of your devotion to me,” she said softly. “But you don't accept me. You've spent a thousand years building your little fantasies out of what I was, while never considering that you were created by what I am.” She paused, and then shrugged. “No matter. Your obedience is all I demand, and that is a thing I already own.”

Nebula bit her lip, coasting alongside Nightmare's shoulder. “It's true,” she said, “that we look at you and see our hopes. That we think of all the stories of you we have kept alive, and want that pony before us. But you fool yourself in the same way. You think you've thrown away Luna, but you yourself are the embodiment of Luna's rage and sorrow.”

Nightmare Moon's wings tensed, and her eyes blazed with their cold light. “You dare...”

“It doesn't matter what you call yourself,” Nebula continued. “Princess Luna is who you are.”

Sky could almost see the anger pouring from Nightmare Moon. Her jaw was set like an iron sledgehammer. He flapped up even with her, trying to catch Nebula's eye and warn her to back off, but even as he did so, Nightmare's voice cracked through the air.

And it held power, a force that rang through his bones like a thunderous bell.

“Fall,” Nightmare Moon spat.

For a moment, Sky trembled in the air as the power of Nightmare Moon's Command swept past him. But he was not the target.

Nebula's wings snapped tight to her flanks, and instantly her legs clawed at the air in vain. She fell, dropping toward the trees in the hastening grip of gravity's impersonal strength.

She didn't make a sound. Sky knew that detail would haunt him for a long time—the fact that she didn't make a sound.

He folded his wings back to chase after her, but Nightmare said “Bide,” sharply, and he found his body once more betraying his own will. He hovered helplessly beside the alicorn, and could only watch in horror as Nebula plummeted.

“Please don't do this,” he whimpered.

Nightmare Moon acknowledged him with a scant flick of one ear. She watched intently as Nebula dropped ever closer to the tangled branches of the forest.

And still Nebula was silent.

Only seconds had passed. Sky understood this, and yet those seconds stretched out agonizingly. Every atom of his body ached to rush after Nebula and catch her, but his wings only beat gently, holding him in place. More seconds passed, and his heart sank as he understood that even if he were released now, he would not be able to reach Nebula before she hit the trees.

Nebula had told him not to think of the alicorn beside him as Nightmare Moon. But how could he regard her as anything else?

Nebula dropped closer and closer to the ground with fearsome speed.

And then Nightmare Moon's voice bellowed out into the night. “Enough!”

For a heart-stopping moment, there was no response. Then Sky saw Nebula's wings flare out and cut at the air. She slewed into an arc, trying to level off, but for all her vesperquine maneuverability, she was carrying too much momentum to quickly turn. She dipped into the trees at a ferocious pace, and a plume of leaves and shattered branches arced up in her wake.

But a moment later, she rose once again above the sea of green, still intact. She circled upwards, gaining height to return to them. Only then did Sky realize Nightmare Moon's compulsion over him had also faded, and he was free to move.

He shot through the air to Nebula's side, racing like a pegasus Wonderbolt candidate. She was battered with scrapes, and a light cut ran along her cheek. Broken twigs and a few tattered leaves were caught up in her mane.

“How are you?” Sky asked, the question rising automatically to his lips.

She gave him a rueful grin. “I guess I owe you an apology for ignoring you about that voice of hers.” She paused, and added “I'm bruised, but fine, Private.”

He glanced up toward Nightmare Moon. “What do we do now?”

“Exactly what we've been doing, Sky.”

His jaw dropped. With effort, he managed to hold his voice back from snarling. “It doesn't seem to be effective.”

“Don't be so certain of that,” she said placidly.

“She nearly killed you!”

“And then she chose not to.”

He grit his teeth. A minute ago he had been terrified she was about to die. Now he had the strongest urge to strangle her himself. “What's happened to you?”

She looked at him with a quizzical tilt to her head. “Nothing's happened to me, Private, barring the obvious.” She gave a meaningful glance downward toward the faint scar she'd cut through the treetops.

But Sky was having none of it. He shook his head sharply. “No, no, that's not true. My captain isn't so mild!” He lowered his voice and gestured up toward Nightmare Moon. “Why aren't you blistering the air, calling her out on her behavior? I mean, okay, she'll kill you, so that's why. I get that." He choked back his voice, sensing he was starting to babble, and took a calming breath before continuing. "You don't take shit from anypony, and yet you've been bending your neck to her from the start!”

Nebula gave him a cool gaze. “She's our princess. That makes her my commanding officer. And yours as well.”

“I saw you work over the Day Guard until they were itching to toss out their commander on their own; then you stepped in and did it for them. And I saw you with Celestia, and you sure aren't very submissive to her. Don't give me this crap.”

For a moment, Nebula's jaw tightened. But then she paused and considered him.

“Cussing her out won't work,” she said. “Surely even one so neuronally deprived as you gets that.”

“Yeah, thanks. That's barely a warm-up for you.” His ears flicked back along his skull for a moment. “So you're still trying to be her friend? Because last I checked letting ponies nearly fall to their death isn't a mark of friendship.”

Nebula shrugged. “But I didn't fall to my death. Look, she needs ponies to believe in her. To know she's more than just darkness and anger, and to let her see that. I've made a decision to do so. I'm prepared to put my life on the line for it.”

Sky stared at her. “I don't think I can manage that,” he said at last.

He half expected her to lay down a steely command. But instead she gently smiled at him. “Just be a friend to her, Sky.”

Be a friend to her. As if she were interested in any such thing from him.

They came up to where Nightmare Moon waited in the sky. She silently turned and winged ahead, deeper into the Everfree, and they silently followed. The terrain passed beneath them, the dense forest guarding its secrets beneath its dark leaves. Somewhere down there, six brave and foolish ponies struggled onward in their vain quest.

After a time, Sky noticed Nightmare casting brief glances at Nebula and him, her brow faintly creasing. At last she craned her head back, and with an oddly awkward hesitance asked, “How does Celestia excuse your kind's blood-thirst?”

Sky exchanged a confused glance with Nebula. After a moment he ventured a reply.

“We... I don't think we're any more violent than any other pony.”

Nightmare gave an irritated snort. “That is not the issue. My sorceries cannot be unmade piecemeal. So how does my milk-hearted sister inure herself to your blood-feasts? Does she allow you to feed upon criminals? It is difficult to imagine that of her.” She paused thoughtfully, then gave a sly smile. “Perhaps there are ponies who voluntarily bare their necks to you? Perverse creatures who offer themselves when your cravings for blood grow urgent?”

Sky gawped at her. What did she think they were? “I don't... I'm not sure what you're trying to ask...” he said.

Nebula jumped in to rescue him. “I'm afraid my cravings run to strawberries and oranges, Princess.”

Sky had felt moments like that. He found himself nodding in agreement. “Sometimes you really just need your bowl of blueberries,” he added.

Nightmare came to a halt, hovering before them. She turned to face their way, her eyes thinning to slits. “I will not be mocked,” she said. “I fused your kind's cellular matrix with those of vampire bats. Do not claim to me you have no taste for blood.”

Sky stared from Nebula to Nightmare and back. He shuddered at what Nightmare was saying. In a small voice, he insisted, “We don't drink blood....”

“You account me a liar, small one?”

“Oh, no, no, no, Princess Luna,” Nebula intervened. “But is it possible you... well... seized upon a different species of bat?”

Nightmare Moon gave her a long, cold stare. Nebula met it unwaveringly.

“We have no desire for blood,” she said. “Did we when you first created us?”

Nightmare harrumphed and turned away, resuming her flight across the Everfree. “Your kind tried to hide from me, or begged me to 'fix' them. I did not trouble to note their mealtime preferences; I was busy enough with Celestia's ceaseless mewling and with setting examples of those gangs of ponies who insisted on making futile efforts at resistance.”

Sky tried not to imagine what those “examples” might have looked like.

Nebula flew up close beside Nightmare. “We were not the friends you needed back then, Princess,” she said. “It took us a long time to realize our part in... what happened. We are sorry for that.”

Nightmare scowled at her. “What is this? You pretend I chose to take my rightful place because my Guard was not lickspittle enough? Do not be so vain.”

Nebula winced at Nightmare's words.

“What do you know of those days in any case? Your dusty old records? My sister has told you tales?”

“She has,” Nebula answered.

“Pah! Self-serving lies, no doubt.”

“No, Princess. She does not excuse herself over what happened. She carries a great weight of guilt.”

Nightmare Moon lashed her ethereal tail. “Oh, the precious Princess,” she said, her voice laced with venom. “So noble. So kind! See how she takes the blame for the deeds of others? How can any pony help but love her self-sacrificing—no, let us be honest—her self-serving manner?”

Nebula shook her head slowly. “You're wrong, though,” she said. “Celestia really does miss you. She really does want you by her side.”

Nightmare's eyebrows shot up. “So you've been taken in by her as well, I see. I should have expected as much. She's had a thousand years to sway your minds. But allow me to disabuse you of your illusions.” Nightmare swooped her long wings though the air, and spun to face them.

“My sister may hide her spite now, but I know it well,” she said. “Did you think I was insensible for those thousand years? Sealed away in a timeless dream? Oh no. I was aware of every moment of my wretched imprisonment.” Nightmare's eyes grew cold. “Eighty-seven years,” she hissed. “My sister's spite was such that she refused to raise my moon for eighty-seven years. There were ponies who lived their entire lives without witnessing its majesty. She robbed them of my night.”

Nebula met her gaze, and calmly spoke. “So. You were aware... but there are things you do not know.”

Nightmare snaked her head forward until she was nose-to-nose with her. “I see. Over the years she has cozened you with her lies and drawn you to her side.”

“No, Princess. I said we have kept our own records.” She hovered back from Nightmare. “Do you wonder why we still exist? Our first generation did not love your Blessing. You know they would gladly have undone their transformation.”

“Yet Celestia refused them,” she answered. “As I told you, there is spite within her.”

But Nebula just shook her head sadly. “Do you truly believe so?”

Nightmare was silent. Sky looked on, fidgeting and scarcely breathing. Nightmare had nearly killed Nebula a little while ago, and here Nebula was still pushing back at the alicorn. Was she doing this because he'd snapped at her before?

“The first generation lived lives of bitterness and regret. In time, though, they came to believe that they bore at least some of the fault for your fall. They—“

“I have not fallen,” Nightmare interrupted. “Rather, I have achieved my true grandeur.”

Nebula paused, and gave a noncommittal twitch of a nod. “Nonetheless, they looked back upon their service and were dismayed. As pegasi, too many had seen the Night Guard as punishment duty. Too many had held themselves to a strict formality, even in the deep hours of the night when you seemed to most need some pony to speak to. Too many had looked aside when anger and sorrow pierced you.”

Nightmare Moon snorted. “What care I for their sympathies?”

“The second generation found themselves caught between two worlds,” Nebula continued. “Their parents looked upon them and saw themselves, pegasi horribly deformed. Yet the children knew nothing of being pegasi; nor was there any culture of the night through which they might find a place in the world for themselves as they were. It was only the third generation which came to truly love your night.”

Nightmare considered. “And Celestia let all this play out without sticking her muzzle in? She must truly loathe your kind.”

“Ahh, Celestia,” Nebula sighed. “Of course she would have stuck her muzzle in. That first generation would have gladly let her undo what you did, and we would not be here now to welcome you home. But Celestia... was in no condition to help us. It was she who needed help.”

Nightmare Moon's ears perked up. “Oh do tell,” she said silkily.

Nebula took a deep breath. “Celestia and you shared control of the Elements of Harmony.”

“I recall,” said Nightmare drily.

Nebula nodded. “Old scholars believed a normal pony would be incapable of bearing more than one of the Elements. You and your sister are exceptional, of course, but even then each of you only carried three.”

“Which Celestia wrested from me.” Nightmare scowled.

“Indeed,” Nebula nodded gravely. “She broke Harmony. She forced them. She turned them upon another Bearer, against their nature.”

Nebula took a deep breath. “Of course she paid a price.”

Nightmare's eyes widened as she realized what Nebula was saying. “I like this story,” she said cattily.

“The power of all six Elements coursing through her was agonizing. And when she bent them to her will, their power clawed back at her, resisting her. A normal pony would have died. She was terribly mauled as it was.”

“Go on.”

“The power scourged her flesh. Blood seeped from every pore. In the hours after she banished you, she glistened red as war, her hide twitching in agony. She was unconscious for days, though she cried out from time to time. Whether it was from her physical pain, or if her sleep was tormented with the memory of what had passed between you two, none knew.

“Nor did her injuries give way to the knowledge of her physicians. Though the bleeding slowed quickly, her wounds refused to fully heal. Traces of her blood oozed from her skin and stained her alabaster coat pink. Not for weeks or months, Princess, but for decades.”

Nightmare's gaze was locked on Nebula, and her ears fixed upon the vesperquine avidly. Her teeth gleamed in the moonlight as her smile grew.

Nebula drove on, her voice deadly serious. “But her physical injuries were minor compared to her mental hurt. Perhaps it was the struggle with the Elements, or perhaps knowing what she had done to you; but on that day, her mind shattered. She was... almost childlike. Confused and wondering at everything. A staff of unicorns had to guide her in raising and lowering the sun. Of course they spared no thought for the moon.”

Nightmare Moon's smile faded. “You mean to say my moon was neglected because of foolish unicorns?”

“Long-dead unicorns, Princess Luna,” Nebula cautioned.

Nightmare gave her a long, cool stare. “And Celestia was a mindless idiot.”

Nebula shook her head. “Not mindless, no. She was... damaged. Sometimes she was simply frivolous—she would say things like 'Flying is so much fun' or 'My wings are so pretty.' But at other times she would announce 'Let's fly to the castle,' and she could not be deterred from flying to the Castle of the Pony Sisters. Her guards would follow, and find her looking at the ruins, her face full of confusion and worry. Only then would she let herself be led back to Canterlot.”

“Half the wreckage was her own doing,” Nightmare sneered.

Nebula continued, her entire attitude fixed intently upon Nightmare. “She would go up to strange ponies, newcomers to the court, and say to them, 'I'm a princess. Are you a princess too?' ”

“She was quite deranged, was she not,” Nightmare laughed.

"Don't you get it?" Nebula's eyes glimmered wetly in the moonlight.

Nightmare cocked her head and frowned. “Get what? What are you babbling on about?”

“There were no other princesses in Equestria.” Nebula's voice quavered with a desperate intensity. “There was only you. She was looking for you. Even with her mind in tatters, she longed to see you.”

Nightmare stared at her for a long moment. Then, without a word, she flapped her wings and soared out over the forest. Startled by the sudden motion, Sky spared a glance for Nebula, and then followed.

Nightmare flew silently, beating at the air with powerful strokes. Sky struggled to keep up, but after a time she slowed to a more manageable pace. He glanced over his shoulder to see Nebula trailing back a ways, lost in her own thoughts. Then when he looked forward again, for an instant his eyes seemed to trick him when he looked at Nightmare. Most ponies were insensitive to nighttime color, even under bright moonlight. But vesperquine eyes were far more discerning; and it seemed to Sky that just for an instant, the deep blue patch around Nightmare's cutie mark and the sable black of her coat had exchanged colors.

He nearly dismissed it immediately as some trick of vision, proof that he was overly tired from this long night. But then it happened again, just a momentary flicker.

And nearly lost in the passage of the air against his ears as he flew, he heard the faintest murmur of Nightmare's voice.

“I used to tell her her wings were pretty...”

He pricked his ears toward her, straining to hear more, but if she said another word, it was lost in the night. Nor did her coat again show any signs of instability.

Night Fight

A little waft of Nightmare Moon's mane caught up to them some time later. Nightmare grimaced at the information it carried, and paused in her flight.

“The manticore failed. These rebels are a vexatious lot.”

“You sent a manticore against them?” Sky gasped.

“It didn't manage to kill a single one. Not even a sting. What meek creatures the manticores of today have become.”

Nebula interrupted, “What of it? Princess Luna, you need not stoop to something so crude as murder. You can do this without killing.”

Nightmare gave her a dire look. “Again, you insist upon that name. How much patience do you suppose I have?”

“More than you pretend.”

“Did you enjoy your fall?” she asked in a poisonously sweet tone. “Would you like to repeat it?”

“You didn't kill me. You haven't killed anyone. You don't want to kill anyone.”

“You are sorely tempting me!” Nightmare snarled into Nebula's face.

This sudden flare of anger sent a cold burst of panic sparking through Sky's veins. He had to do something to distract the two of them, before Nebula really did push Nightmare too far. He flapped his wings noisily, making a desperate ruckus as if he'd run into a patch of dead air.

The two ponies paused and looked his way. He aimed a beseeching look at Nebula, silently begging her to stop challenging Nightmare Moon. But she only raised an eyebrow, questioning his aerial stumble.

Nightmare Moon's attention was more incisive. She aimed her sleek head directly at him and purred, “My dear Sky Diamond, do you believe I am reluctant to kill?”

He stared back at her, gawping. He could not answer as he knew Nebula would want, with confident affirmation. But neither could he remain silent and allow her to draw her own conclusions. It came to him that she would always choose the worst story to tell herself, the darkest interpretation of others and of her own being. And he had no good answer to that. He started to stammer something, anything, and his words babbled from him, free of any clear thought.

“You can do worse, I'm sure... I mean, killing must be a mercy compared to some of what you're capable of, but... that isn't...”

Nightmare gave him a long, piercing look. Then she smiled.

“Oh my clever Sky Diamond. Yes, I think you have stumbled upon a cunning thought.” She pursed her lips for a moment, and then flared out her wings and reversed direction, leading the two vesperquines back they way they had come.

“Princess?” Nebula asked.

Nightmare grinned hungrily. “Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes. Those six won't die after all. They'll have much worse than that.”

“What are you planning?” He had set a thing in motion that filled him with dread.

“There are things that are not properly of this world, Sky Diamond,” she explained. “Beings that cannot find a foothold here; and lucky for all of you that such is the case. Demons, shades, spirits, things yet to have a name put to them. Sometimes they can make their way into the dream realms and stalk a pony's sleep, but even there it is difficult for them to catch more than a taste of their prey.

“But there are spells to hold them, spells to anchor them here, where they are free to devour pony minds and leave behind the broken shells, trapped in endless terror.”

He shuddered and silently cursed himself. He should have never opened his mouth.

Swiftly, Nebula asked, “Princess, is it wise to call up such things?”

He nodded, trying to join in and dissuade Nightmare. But Nightmare just smiled at her sweetly and replied, “I shall seal them in the trees. It shall be a grove of horrors, but only those who dare to venture there will be in danger.”

Nebula grimaced, but Nightmare was already flying onward, scanning the ground and muttering to herself. “So much has changed, but the terrain remains as it was.” After a time, she made a satisfied grunt and dropped to the ground.

Sky and Nebula followed and found themselves in a swampy lowland. Ancient trees stood like sentinels, their trunks grown massive with the years. Clumps of moss hung from skeletal branches and the ground had a scraggly carpet of ferns. The air held an oppressive damp smell, and the rustle of their wings as they settled to the ground was muffled in the heavy atmosphere.

Nightmare looked around with an approving gaze. “Those interlopers are certain to come this way.” She nodded to herself and smiled. “This will do very well.”

She turned to Sky and Nebula. “The spells are complex and time-consuming. If you are truly my Night Guard, be certain none disturb me in my task.”

Nebula bowed low. “As you command, Princess Luna.” She spread her wings and lifted herself into the air. Sky stared dumbly after her, but a moment later she glared down at him and said, “What's the holdup, pimplebutt? Get up here; you're on duty too.”

He followed her upward, navigating through the branches until he hovered above the forest with a commanding view of the locale. Through the breaks in the canopy, he could see Nightmare laying out arcane patterns with her magic.

He looked at Nebula, wide-eyed. “She's doing something evil,” he said.

Nebula bit at her lip. “She's our Princess,” she said stubbornly. But Sky could sense even she found that answer weak. She stared out into the night, and quietly spoke. “Yes, I'm worried. But I will not betray her as our ancestors did. I will be her friend.”

“Sometimes a friend has to tell you you're wrong,” Sky shot back. “Or do you think just calling her Princess Luna until she runs out of patience is enough?”

“She is Princess Luna. She knows it, she just needs to remember herself.”

“You're gambling,” he snorted. “You're going to get us both killed.”

She regarded him, her mouth set in a grave expression. “Private Sky Diamond, do you wish to be released from your service in the Night Guard?”

He froze. She was offering him the chance to escape this madness, and to save himself.

Or the chance to abandon her without recrimination.

Her gaze was steady and serious. The offer was no jest, nor was she trying to shame him.

“It's not like I'm truly competent to deal with—” he gestured around him “—this.”

“As long as I'm your CO, I'll be the judge of that,” she said sharply. Then her voice softened. “Sky Diamond, you are no paragon of the Guard, but you should not take yourself so lightly.”

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. It was a spartan compliment, but coming from Nebula, it amounted to high praise indeed.

He took a moment to catalog his current straits. His princess was a creature of evil. His captain was caught up in folly. Half a dozen day ponies were marching to oppose them, and the Wonderbolts were on the prowl.

There was only one reasonable choice to be made.

“Ma'am,” he said, “I'm a member of the Night Guard. You're stuck with me.”

Nebula's answering nod was as brisk as anything she did, but all the same he sensed a note of relief in it. “Well then, Private,” she said, “we've got work to do.”

They patrolled in a wide circle centered on Nightmare Moon, growing accustomed to the terrain of the area. For a quarter of an hour all was calm. Now and then they saw dim flashes of blood-tinted light as Nightmare worked her summonings. Her efforts seemed to ward off any wildlife in the area, but as Sky scanned the trees below and the horizon for any fliers, he spotted a pegasus in the distance.

Nebula zipped to his side. “Oh, good. You see it too. Looks like we have some company at last.”

Sky peered at the figure. “Soarin? I think that's Soarin....”

The pegasus was headed roughly in their direction, but was scanning the woods and sky, and plainly had yet to see them.

“What's he doing out here?” Sky whispered.

Nebula snorted softly. “Looking for us, I expect. With a little luck, he'll pass right by. He should have adjusted to the night by now, but even so his eyes aren't as good as ours.”

But at that moment, a soft flare of light welled up through the trees from Nightmare Moon's location. Though Soarin's eyes were not on par with vesperquine night vision, he was not so night-blind as to miss that, and he arced his course toward it.

Nebula made a disgusted noise and immediately moved to intercept him, Sky following off her right wing. They swept in front of him and hovered, blocking him from the direction of Nightmare Moon, and Soarin drew up suddenly at the sight of them in the moonlight. His eyes widened. “Captain Nebula?”

Nebula nodded. “Lieutenant.”

His gaze darted between the two of them, and his front legs fidgeted. “We've had multiple reports from Ponyville of a renegade alicorn claiming responsibility for Princess Celestia's disappearance and calling herself 'Nightmare Moon.' She's also supposed to have declared she won't end the night.” His gaze flickered to Sky, as if seeking support in the face of Nebula's stony expression. “There've been some reports from Canterlot too, of, umm...” He swallowed thickly and forged on. “Of vesperquines coordinating with this 'Nightmare Moon.'”

Nebula regarded Soarin with a cool and unsympathetic look. Sky felt a surge of nausea, but not a bit of surprise as she replied.

“Lieutenant Soarin, her name is Luna. She is a princess, co-equal to Celestia, and she is currently the presiding authority in Equestria.”

Soarin's pale features grew positively ghostly. He shifted his attention to Sky with a shudder. “You too? You're okay with the sun never rising again?”

Sky opened his mouth to answer, but what could he say? He was a vesperquine; of course he had no love for the day. But even so, the day had its uses nonetheless. Who could deny that? The succulent asparagus salad he'd had had for dinner had grown under the sun's rays, and the ponies of Equestria themselves were most industrious in the light of day.

He remembered Nebula's words to Shining Armor. “This night will not last forever,” he echoed aloud.

Soarin's eyes widened. “How do you know that?” he whispered.

“Because,” Nebula cut in, her voice a pillar of strength in the darkness, “we believe in our princess.”

Sky winced at her assurance. His own belief in his princess was far from solid. But Nebula's tone brooked no questioning. In other circumstances, he'd feel sure she was laying down a bluff in order to set Soarin's mind at ease; but he knew now that she spoke without guile, out of a faith he could not understand, much less share.

Soarin gawped, astonishment splaying across his face like a bug splattered across a set of racing goggles. “I'm sorry,” he said, “but that's not good enough.”

Another pulse of sickly red light from Nightmare Moon's enchantments flickered in the forest below, as if to underscore Soarin's skepticism. He gestured toward it. “She's down there, isn't she. Your... princess. If she's truly worthy of your faith, have her come and surrender to us. You know it will go better for her if she cooperates than if the Wonderbolts have to drag her back to Canterlot for trial against her will.”

Sky nearly choked. “I don't think you'll have an easy time doing that,” he sputtered.

Soarin barely acknowledged him. He watched Nebula steadily, and said “I'm asking you to fulfill your duty to Equestria, and help secure that alicorn. If that's too much for you, then at least surrender yourselves to our authority.”

Nebula sighed. “I'm afraid my orders do not allow for that, Lieutenant.”

Soarin squeezed his eyes shut. He sighed deeply, and then opened his eyes to give her small shake of the head. “That's a shame,” he said.

With that he shot up and away from them, arcing sharply upwards and to the left in a strange flight path. Open-mouthed, Sky stared after him while Nebula snarled. “It's a signal,” she said. “The others are attacking.”

Sky's nerves jolted in electrifying dismay. Could this really be happening? Nebula chirped, and instinctively he followed suit and nearly reeled at what he heard. Something was coming down at them, very fast.

“The moon!” he gasped, and flung himself to one side. Two pegasi shot past. They'd been hiding in the glare of the moon, having adapted their tactic of attacking from the angle of the sun to take advantage of vesperquines' greater sensitivity to the moon's light. Had he and Nebula relied on sight alone, they might well have fallen to the first strike. The wind of the Wonderbolts' passage buffeted him, and he stared after them as they flattened their flight angle and leveled off over the forest.

A sickening after-rush of adrenaline thrummed through his muscles. His voice quavered as he gasped out, “What...?”

“You're in combat, soldier. Remember your training!” Nebula snapped, and dove after the two pegasi.

His training! It seemed like a joke. Yes, he had drilled endlessly, and he usually performed well in sparring matches. But sparring and drilling were a far cry from true combat; and now, in the moment, he knew himself to be deeply unprepared.

Nonetheless, he had to act. He angled his wings to drop down and join Nebula's pursuit of the two attackers, but he could already see neither he nor Nebula had a hope of outpacing pegasi like the Wonderbolts. His mind grasped for tactics in this situation.

So it was that he very nearly missed the flash of motion in the corner of his eye. Two Wonderbolts had attacked, so of course his mind was focused on the threat they posed. But Wonderbolt squads were three ponies, and had he not just been speaking with that third pony?

He tried to throw himself to one side, cursing. Always be aware of your surroundings! But he didn't have enough time to fully escape Soarin's attack, and though he avoided taking the brunt of it, one outstretched forehoof struck him a glancing blow to the ribs that punched the wind out of him and left him reeling.

Soarin braked hard, his wings straining wide, and flipped back to follow up on his attack. Sky shook his head, trying to focus. He snarled angrily. He was not going to fall before he had even begun to fight!

Then Soarin was upon him, hovering chest to chest and lashing with a flurry of hoof strikes. Sky jerked himself back, blocking and parrying, the muscle memory from long hours of drilling standing him in good stead now. Pegasus infighting was a brutal thing, a nasty barrage of blows, with all four legs free to kick and strike. But he too had trained in these tactics, and reached out to catch at Soarin's legs and turn aside the force of his hits.

For a moment they hung suspended in the sky, battering at one another in a storm of hooves that Sky barely managed to keep pace with. He jerked himself backwards, seeking a moment of breathing space, but Soarin pushed after him and kept up the pressure. It was all he could do to ward off Soarin's attacks.

Sweat beaded up on his brow. As much as he was managing to parry Soarin, he was at his limit. The pegasus was relentless, and allowed no space for him to counterattack. Sooner or later Sky was going to make a mistake, and Soarin would land a telling blow. And then more mistakes would follow. The urge to turn tail and flee gripped him.

Idiot! he imagined Nebula's voice whipping at him. Why would you expect to outrun pegasi?

Fleeing would not work. But vesperquines had their own advantages, and he had stupidly been allowing Soarin to take all the initiative.

Sky gathered his wings, and darted sharply around Soarin. The sudden maneuver caught the pegasus by surprise, and Sky managed to get behind him before he could react. Sky aimed a kick at the pegasus' back, and felt his hoof connect with a solid jolt. Soarin grunted, but before Sky could press his attack, the pegasus shot forward and away.

Sky took a moment to scan below. Nebula and the other two pegasi were skimming the treetops in a complex chase. Nebula dipped among the leaves, shifting direction and confounding her pursuers, bursting back into the open air to attack from some unexpected direction.

But he could only spare that moment to check on her. Soarin was looping back around at high speed for another attack. This time, at least, Sky was prepared. He lunged out of the way at the last moment, hoping to land another kick as Soarin passed by. But the pegasus was too fast—frighteningly so—and instead Sky found himself thrown tail over withers in the turbulence of Soarin's wake.

For a moment he tumbled through the sky, forest and stars wheeling before his eyes. His helmet was flung from his head and fell away to disappear, lost in the forest below. He struggled to stabilize himself, chirping wildly to try to locate Soarin. The pegasus had already circled back most of the way for another run on him by the time Sky got himself back under control.

Soarin came in fast, and once more Sky dodged out of the way, this time navigating with greater poise. But he still didn't manage to lay a hoof on Soarin. The pegasus was simply too fast.

This was no good. Perhaps over time he might wear down Soarin, but it was a heavy gamble that he would make no mistakes dodging the pegasus. What's more, Soarin himself would change tactics once he decided he couldn't catch Sky.

Then, of course, there was Nebula, who was fending off two pegasi on her own. He needed to dispense with Soarin and come to her aid as quickly as possible.

He started flying at speed, seeking a course that would draw Soarin into a vulnerable position. At the very least, the closer he could match Soarin's airspeed, the larger his window of opportunity to strike at the pegasus would be. He swooped and jinked, playing a dangerous game of aerial tag with Soarin; and though here and there the two of them traded glancing blows, neither could properly close with the other. Without his helmet the air rushed across the damp sweat on his scalp, filling him with a sense of exhilaration as he and Soarin twisted a labyrinthine trail across the sky.

Up here, in the open air, he could keep track of Soarin with ease. But he knew that Soarin was also at his most capable in such a spacious environment. Their advantages balanced and left them at an impasse.

And exhaustion was a factor. How long could he keep this up before he made a critical mistake? Could he afford to trust Soarin would make that mistake first?

His thoughts were cut short as Soarin came at him once more. Again Sky evaded to one side; but this time, Soarin was still there with him, hooves lashing out sharply against his ribs. Impossible! He swept himself back with a convulsive thrust of his wings. But of course it wasn't impossible, it had happened. He dodged around Soarin's renewed assault, his mind in a whirl.

The pegasus wasn't any faster, so how had he even laid a hoof on him? It didn't make sense... and then Sky saw it. Soarin hadn't somehow matched his maneuverability, he'd simply guessed the direction Sky would dodge and altered his angle at the last possible moment he could shift. A matter of luck, perhaps, and even at that he hadn't managed to tackle Sky full-on. But it showed Soarin was adjusting to Sky's tactics, seeking a way to neutralize him.

Or worse yet, it could be that Soarin hadn't guessed, but had read some subtle cue in Sky's poise, and seen which way Sky would dodge. A chill ran down his spine. Either way, the open air was no longer a neutral ground for their battle, but rather a dangerous trap. He could no longer afford to draw out their conflict up here.

He took a deep breath and dove for the Everfree. Soarin arrowed down to intercept him, but Sky twisted and angled his way downward, no longer trusting his straightforward dodges.

The leafy vista rose beneath him, and resolved itself into a rugged terrain of tall pines poking their way through a rough mix of oak and ash and maple. He angled himself to burst through what seemed a thin place in the greenery, and slammed through the leaves. The spindly branches whipped at him and broke, and a moment later he was underneath the forest canopy.

The leaves above stippled the moonlight into a scattering spray of beams. Tree trunks stood in profusion, forcing Sky to slow himself to maneuver through the ever-twisting passageways between them. Dark parasitic mosses grew along their bark, among knotted vines. The forest floor was carpeted with the rot of old leaves and the frequent humps of decaying wood where fallen trees lay, nestled in their beds of ferns.

Behind him, Sky heard a crash as Soarin followed him even into this dark place. He tried to orient himself, but the chaos and intensity of his aerial battle had left him uncertain of his location—was Nebula somewhere ahead of him, or off to his left?

He dodged around trees, pulling back his speed in the gloom. The air was still and dank, and he felt it almost clinging to his wings. He chirped, intent on hearing the shapes of the obstacles around him; and his quick bursts of sound rewarded him with a clearer sense of the forest. But his echo was quickly swallowed up in the thick vegetation, leaving him with an unsettling illusion of open emptiness pressing in upon his bubble of awareness, though his eyes told him the forest stretched on and on.

Soarin chased after him relentlessly. The moon was bright—perhaps as bright as Sky had ever known it—and the pegasus felt comfortable enough with the state of his night vision to keep after Sky, even as he flittered and sped among the trunks.

Sky dove low, skimming near a tall fir tree, Soarin in hot pursuit. He hooked the end of one branch with his hoof and flew, arcing around the tree as the bough grew taut in his grip. He chirped, checking Soarin's position behind him, and then let go.

The branch whipped back, straight into Soarin's flight path. Sky heard an “Oof!” from behind him, followed by a string of curses. He grinned, but Soarin's moment of dismay wouldn't likely distract him long. Sky shot straight up, and hid himself in the upper branches of the tree.

Soarin disentangled himself and glared around. Sky held perfectly still, and thought about his next move.

He could try to drop down quietly and surprise Soarin. But the pegasus was very alert, and actively looking for him now. He didn't like his chances of success—Soarin's dogged persistence had become unnerving.

At the same time, Nebula was somewhere out there, taking on two pegasi at the same time. He had a responsibility to come to her aid, and if he could slip away and leave Soarin lost and wandering, so much the better.

Soarin called out to him. “Come out and surrender, batpony. Have you really thought this through?”

Sky bridled at the “batpony” slur, but doubted Soarin even realized how vesperquines loathed the term. If there was an actual insult here, it was in Soarin's failure to address him as a member of the Night Guard.

“We need the sun to grow crops,” the pegasus continued. His voice moved off as he circled among the trees, trying to find Sky. “Think about that. Do you like blueberry pie? Because there won't be any more blueberry pie if that alicorn has her way!”

This night will not last forever. But even so, he could not imagine Nightmare Moon raising the sun.

He needed to get to Nebula. He needed her confidence, needed her sense of purpose.

Sky chirped, and heard Soarin's figure, thirty yards off and facing back the way he'd come from. Now was his chance to slip away. He fluttered lightly from the branches and darted up.

But his luck failed him. Whether he'd made some noise to draw Soarin's attention, or whether chance had prompted the pegasus to glance back his way, Soarin spotted him. “There you are!” the pegasus roared, and shot toward him.

Sky sped forward, winding a tortuous path among the forest trunks. He kept ahead of Soarin—even gained some distance thanks to his maneuverability—but could not shake the pegasus off. He angled down until he was skimming over the rough forest floor, dodging around hummocks and fallen trunks in the hopes Soarin would follow close enough to crash into them. But the pegasus would not venture quite so low. Sky cast about for some area of low, leafy branches he could fly under to force Soarin down into a more treacherous flight path lest he lose track of Sky, but this area of the Everfree had grown tall, and any low branches that had not simply dropped off their trees bore sparse leaves in the gloomy depths.

So then, what was the next thing he could do? Ahead he saw a pile of logs on the ground and thought to try to kick them up at Soarin's face as he passed, a plan that relied on a very optimistic interpretation of physics.

But as he drew near, the logs stirred of their own accord. They reared up, and suddenly resolved into the forms of large wolflike creatures. Their bodies were comprised of gnarled wood, and their eyes glowed with the light of a malevolent green magic. They snarled at the sight of him, and Sky shot up and over them with a startled gasp.

They leapt beneath him, snapping at his heels. He shuddered and careened onward among the trees, leaving the beasts to chase after and howl impotently.

There were more things than just the Wonderbolts to beware of in the Everfree.

Sky changed tactics, setting aside his aim of regrouping with Nebula. Instead he flew toward the darkest places in the forest he could spot. He needed to make the most of his advantages, and only in the murkiest regions would his echolocation put him at a decided advantage over Soarin.

He found a dense grove and plunged into it, chirping wildly and heading into the thickest confusion of branches he could pass through. Masses of vines descended, and he skirted them as closely as he could manage. Behind him, Soarin tried to keep up, but in the darkness Sky heard him slowing palpably.

“Wonderbolts? More like Wonder-dolts!” Sky cried out in childish glee.

Soaring growled and rushed toward Sky's voice. Almost immediately he ran into the vines and snarled himself up in them. Sky heard him swearing as he tore at the vegetation, trying to disentangle himself before Sky could flitter off entirely.

Sky moved off quietly. As the distance grew and Soarin still did not emerge, he breathed a sigh of relief. Soon he was winging swiftly away, his muscles trembling as the tension suddenly washed free of him in the aftermath of combat.

Now he searched for Nebula's location, flying quickly through the upper forest. He had only a rough idea of where she had been, having grown disoriented in his flight from Soarin, but he headed in the direction of his best guess. He thought about rising above the treetops to get a better view, but Soarin would not take long to free himself, and logically would be waiting in the upper air for any sign of him. It was safer down here. For all he knew, the remaining two Wonderbolts were up there as well, looking to spot him. He hoped not, though, for if that were the case it would mean Nebula had been defeated; and Sky had no hope of beating three Wonderbolts on his own.

He'd barely managed to keep ahead of Soarin.

Sky gritted his teeth and darted through the trees. Best not think along those lines.

As he flew beneath the branches, he started to realize the forest geography was more confusing than he had anticipated. He could not be certain he was truly moving in one direction, or if he might not be circling around aimlessly. The longer he flew, the more doubt he felt, and a growing unease took hold in his belly that he was wandering the wrong way.

Still, he resisted the urge to double back, doggedly trusting in his original intuition. And before long, he thought his persistence had paid off as he came across a small clearing. As he skirted its edge, staying carefully in the trees, he thought he saw a pony crouched among the ferns in the center. His heart leapt. Had he found Nebula?

But a moment later he grimaced as he realized it wasn't a pony at all, but rather the remains of a fallen tree. Its broken trunk jutted up in a profile that was startlingly pony-shaped at first glance. Even so, Sky flushed with embarrassment to have let his vesperquine eyes be fooled by something in plain moonlight.

With an irritated shake of his head, he flew onward, leaving the little clearing behind. Was this the right direction? He thought so, but... his confidence was trickling away like water. Perhaps he should shoot up through the forest roof to get his bearings after all. Soarin had to have freed himself by now, and was doubtless up there looking for him, but even so there still was a chance he wouldn't see him, especially if he was quick about it, right?

But now as he thought about it, he wondered if simply keeping Soarin occupied hadn't been the most important contribution he'd been making in this fight. If Soarin broke away and turned his attention to Nebula while Sky hovered beneath the leaves and congratulated himself on how clever at hiding he was, it could spell disaster for his commander. Nebula was a wily and skilled flier, but the two-on-one fight she had been engaged in must surely be taxing her to her limits. If she had not yet defeated either of those pegasi, and Soarin joined the fray, she was doomed.

Sky hovered pensively, and considered making as much noise as he could to keep Soarin distracted. But his tactical musings were disrupted by an explosive sound of cracking wood followed by the loud crash of a tree falling to the ground. It came from somewhere off to his right, where he had been certain nothing was going on.

He rushed toward the sound, heart pounding in dread. The trees formed a twisting corridor he angled through as quickly as he could manage. Then, with startling abruptness, they came to an end and Sky found himself shooting into a broad clearing, like a wide slash in the forest's hide.

A small stand of trees lay shattered in the middle of the clearing. Splintered chunks of wood marked a ragged trail across the ground, at the end of which sprawled Spitfire, unconscious. Just beyond her, Nebula groggily struggled to her feet.

One wing dragged limply along the ground.

Sky bit back a low moan of agony at the sight. But he had no time to think about Nebula's injury, or what it meant for him. Another pegasus was hovering midway between him and the ground.

He recognized her as Fleetfoot, the third and final member of the Wonderbolt squadron. She was screaming at Nebula to surrender herself, fury crackling in her voice.

Sky dropped, angling down at her. She had no idea he was there, so when his forehooves slammed into her shoulders she squawked in outraged surprise. He brought his hindhooves down just behind his forehooves, and then launched himself off her back, driving her downward to a painful, face-first meeting with the ground.

His forelegs throbbed from the blow. He glanced again toward Nebula, but before he could even focus on her, something slammed into his side with paralyzing force. Soarin had found him again.

Sky gasped for breath and struggled against Soarin's grip as the pegasus carried him across the clearing. He twisted like a wildcat and burst free just as they came up to the treeline.

His tactical instincts prompted him to fly back into the clearing, doubling back against Soarin's flight path so that he could put as much distance as possible between himself and the pegasus. But an instant later he kicked himself for not disappearing into the forest. That would have bought him freedom for stealth and surprise.

Still, it was too late now. His ribs felt bruised from Soarin's midair tackle, but he ignored that ache and kept racing for the opposite side of the clearing, hoping Soarin wouldn't manage to turn quickly enough to be able to catch him. He spared a glance over his right shoulder to check the position of the pegasus.

It was another mistake. I should chirp instead, he thought, even as he was looking; but in that moment he was already too late. Fleetfoot, her face full of dirt and murder, surged up from under his blind side and threw her foreleg around his neck.

Sky thrashed and tried to kick at her, but she held on tightly and bore him down. A moment later, Soarin grabbed him on the right side, and the two pegasi wrestled him to earth. The ground came up quickly, and he tried to plant his landing in the hopes he could shake off the two of them in the shock of impact. Instead his legs buckled at the first jolt of contact, and he plowed into the stiff grass of the clearing. They held him down, pinning him to the earth by his forelegs. He winced at the rough treatment, and beat his wings ineffectually.

I really screwed up! A black weight of dismay came down upon him. Nebula looked as if she had a serious wing injury—she was in no position to fight another pegasus. The burden of carrying the battle forward had fallen to him, and he'd been defeated in no time at all.

“Surrender! You have to surrender!” Fleetfoot screamed in his ear. On the other side, Soarin was trying to reason with him.

“Look, I know you aren't really a bad pony,” Soarin said, “but you got caught up in something that's out of control. It'll go easier for you if you cooperate with us.”

Sky struggled in frustration, but their grip was too strong. He snarled when Soarin told him to calm down, but ultimately he was powerless. He let his limbs relax, and glowered.

“That's better,” Soarin said. “You put up a good fight, but it's over.”

“Don't be nice!” Fleetfoot shouted. “He's joined up with a monster!”

“She's not a—” Sky broke off, surprised by his own words. Nightmare Moon was surely a monster... but as Nebula would insist, she was also Princess Luna. And he was finding it harder and harder to overlook that. It no longer seemed honest to break her down into such simple categories.

Nebula's persistence must be wearing him down. He only prayed it was getting through to Princess Luna as well.

The bitter scent of crushed hawkweed filled his lungs. They had brought him down on a slight rise, so that when he looked past the weeds before his nose, he could see the forest edge clearly. He scanned for a flicker of Nightmare Moon's magic deep within the trees, but there was no sign of it.

There was, however, something moving from the treeline. Sky saw feral eyes glowing green, and lupine assemblages of logs stalking across the terrain. Those strange creatures he had bumbled into earlier were out and on the prowl. The leading members of the pack raised their knotty noses and sniffed at the air.

He glanced to the side. Halfway down the clearing Nebula stood over Spitfire's limp form. She held perfectly still, focused intently on the beasts. Sky understood she had taken responsibility for Spitfire as her prisoner. She would not abandon her to these things. But with her injured wing, she wouldn't be able to fight well or flee.

They were much closer to Nebula than to him. Sky counted over a dozen.

“Um,” Sky said, “we seem to have guests.”

Fleetfoot looked down on him, glaring. “What are you trying to pull now?”

Sky gestured toward the creatures with his muzzle. “Over there!”

Both pegasi followed his gaze blankly. Though the creatures were clear enough to Sky, the night hampered the other ponies' vision. They peered across the moonlit grasses, searching for what was obvious to him.

“Something is moving out there,” Fleetfoot confirmed after a moment. He felt her tense where she held his leg, as if she wanted to spring into the air to get a better view.

Sky watched, eyes widening as the creatures began to lope toward Nebula. They'd noticed her, or scented her perhaps.

“Look,” Sky said, “my captain is going to try to defend your captain from those things, but she's not going to be able to do it on her own.”

Soarin and Fleetfoot held still for a painfully long moment, staring into the darkness. Then Fleetfoot swore. “Timberwolves!” she snarled, and shot off toward the beasts. Soarin stared after her, and then down at Sky uncertainly.

“I count more than a dozen of them,” Sky said. “She's going to need our help.”

Soarin frowned in indecision, and then grimaced. Without a word he let loose of Sky and darted after Fleetfoot.

Sky barely took a moment to shake out his abused forelegs, and then leapt into flight after them. He had a vague awareness of timberwolves as things that existed, but apart from his brief encounter while fleeing Soarin, he'd never seen them in real life. The unhappy thought crossed his mind that these were the same ones from before, and he himself was responsible for stirring them up.

The creatures made their way into the clearing, a vile green exhalation pouring from their muzzles as they converged on Nebula. She stood poised for battle, blocking the way to Spitfire. It was clear her injured wing kept her stranded on the ground, and crippled her ability to fight.

Sky raced toward her, but he was still some way off when the first of the timberwolves reached her. She spun on her forehooves and kicked back, earth pony style. Her hooves connected solidly, and she sent the creature bowling backwards, stunned.

Nebula gasped, staggering for a moment—she'd jolted her injured wing in the effort. Another timberwolf lunged at her, and Sky strained forward, knowing all the while that he could not close the distance to her in time.

Fleetfoot slashed into the timberwolf, her forehooves punching it in the side with the force of a locomotive. The creature burst into flinders of wood, and she immediately banked her flight into a tight arc, searching for her next target.

Soarin followed her example, smashing through another timberwolf; and then Sky reached the melee. He pounced upon one of the creatures and felt it shatter beneath his hooves.

He grinned, and slewed around to strike at another, and for a moment it seemed they would make short work of the beasts. But the timberwolves soon began to focus on the sky and leap up in counterattacks whenever the ponies drew near. Sky was nimble enough to dart out of the way and still kick at the creatures, but the Wonderbolts were harder pressed.

Nevertheless, they soon adapted. Soarin buzzed over the timberwolves, drawing their attention, while Fleetfoot shot in from their sides to ambush them. As they worked, Sky darted and struck while sticking close to Nebula.

Then all became a chaos of hoof and tooth and wing and wood. Sky thrashed at the beasts and snatched himself away from their snapping jaws. The Wonderbolts rushed from side to side, splitting the air with the crack of hoof on wood. At some point in the melee, one of the timberwolves sliced a shallow cut down Sky's left hock, but he scarcely felt it. The noxious breath of the creatures choked him, but their howls as he kicked and smashed at them provided a satisfying compensation.

And then they broke, the scarce few survivors rushing back to the safety of the forest in disarray. Sky shouted a whoop of triumph at the sight, but Fleetfoot paid no heed. She dropped to the ground and immediately started scattering the remains of the broken timberwolves, possessed with an inexplicable urgency. “Get down here and help, you dumb city ponies,” she snarled at Sky and Soarin. “These'll form right back up into a timberwarg if you don't disperse them!”

But Sky and Soarin hovered, eyeing one another suspiciously. They had made an informal truce to fight the timberwolves; now in victory the status between them had suddenly become fraught.

“Back off,” Sky said. “I just fought to protect your captain, you know.”

“And we just fought to protect yours. What of it?”

Sky opened his mouth to point out that Nebula had been on her feet and fighting on her own behalf, but choked back the retort. Nebula had also downed Spitfire to begin with. He wasn't going to make any headway with Soarin by defending her.

Instead he tried a different tack. “Night—” He bit back the word and took a deep breath. Deliberately he said “Princess Luna will soon rejoin us. You cannot hope to stand against her.”

Soarin glared. “She is a criminal, and we have come to arrest her.”

Sky pawed at the air in frustration. “You can't just push at her like that. If you force her, she... she could kill you. How much good are you going to do for Equestria if you're killed?” Even if he accepted Nebula's conviction that their princess had been holding back from murder, Sky was not at all certain she could not be pushed to that extreme.

Soarin's expression was dismissive. Sky wished Nebula would speak up. He had no talent to argue as she could—even his invective lacked her flair.

Soarin said, “I have no intention of getting killed; but if you're genuinely worried about it, tell your 'princess' to surrender. I can guarantee she'll be treated fairly.”

Sky was speechless. Surrender? Her? It didn't work that way! How was he going to explain that to Soarin? And why wasn't Nebula chiming in? He could use a friend here!

Soarin started lecturing at him in high-minded fury about the ideals of the Equestrian justice system and the impartial treatment his Nightmare Moon would enjoy. Sky stole a glance downward to check on Nebula, and nearly dropped from the sky. She was creeping up on Fleetfoot, taking advantage of the pony's preoccupation with scattering the remains of the timberwolves. Like black silk, she flowed silently over the mare and wrapped one foreleg around her throat.

He cocked one ear downward, and caught Nebula murmuring, “Sorry, but I need you to take a nap,” into Fleetfoot's ear. Fleetfoot reared up in panic and tried to throw her off, but Nebula's grip was solid. For a moment they struggled, staggering and twisting like gnarled branches. Nebula's bad wing dragged across the ground, and Sky saw the sweat bead up on her forehead at the jolt of pain, but she made no sound and held tight to the writhing pegasus.

It was then that Soarin himself glanced away from Sky and saw what was happening. He gave a shriek of outrage and dove toward the struggling ponies.

Sky's mind filled with a tumult of thoughts. Nebula's sudden attack had surprised him—no, more than that, the cold assurance of her assault was like icewater trickling down his spine. For an instant, he didn't know her, and the sight of her filled him with fear.

But no. That was a lie. He knew her well; the course of the evening had brought out her character with incontrovertible clarity. She believed Princess Luna was not lost to them, and she was prepared to do anything it might take to redeem her.

Even fight in the name of Nightmare Moon.

Sky was a morass of doubt. Nebula's certitude was a madness he could not accept... and yet, somehow it buoyed him up nonetheless. For the first time, he wondered if perhaps she could be right.

And so, he chose to believe in her, just as she chose to believe in Princess Luna. He dove to meet Soarin, interposing himself between the Wonderbolt and Fleetfoot.

Soarin seemed prepared to charge straight through Sky, but at the last moment he lashed out with a hoof and swerved ever so slightly to skim past him. But Sky agilely caught up Soarin's punch and shouldered into the pegasus. The two of them tumbled through the air like drunken acrobats, hurtling past Nebula and Fleetfoot.

Sky kicked free of Soarin, shoving him groundward. The pegasus skidded across the clearing, sending timberwolf fragments flying. Sky hovered low, putting himself between Soarin and Nebula once more. He watched Soarin climb to his feet and give his scowling head a shake, and then leap into the air.

Sky met him, hooves slashing and blocking the other's blows. He kept the Wonderbolt back, fighting with extravagant energy to protect Nebula. Sweat flew from him with every clash of hoof against hoof, and his breath roared in his throat. Soarin grunted with each strike, anger burning in his eyes. Sky worried at what might be happening behind him with Nebula and Fleetfoot, but he didn't dare turn his gaze away from Soarin to check on them.

But he could give a chirp, and listen for their shapes. The sound echoed back into his ears, and he heard the figure of Fleetfoot sagging in Nebula's grip, wings batting ineffectually at her. She seemed barely conscious, and Sky took heart knowing it wouldn't take much longer before she passed out entirely.

Soarin tried to get past him once more, angling to one side with remarkable deftness for a pegasus. Sky flung himself into Soarin, his combat form forgotten in the need to throw the pegasus back from Nebula. They crashed together, a tangle of legs and wings that skidded to earth with bone-jarring force a moment later.

Sky rolled a length beyond Soarin. He sprawled on the ground, dazed, and raised his head to look around. Soarin was off to one side, woozily trying to get to his own feet. Beyond him, Fleetfoot lay unconscious, gasping for breath. Nebula towered above her, gazing down upon all of them.

"Lieutenant Soarin, you fought well, but you are outnumbered. Surrender now and I promise you and your companions will be treated with courtesy and respect," she said.

Sky frowned. Soarin was outnumbered, true, but Nebula was injured and clearly ground-bound. The strength of her position was far from secure, yet she acted with such unassailable confidence that Sky questioned his own judgement.

Soarin too seemed to waver for a moment. But then all three of them were distracted as the fragments of the timberwolves strewn around them began to rattle and stir.

They stared, wide-eyed, as the splintered chunks of wood floated upward, propelled by some magical compulsion. For a long moment the fragments hovered eerily, quivering and thrumming here and there like the plucked strings of a cello. They seemed as if they were straining to draw together, but fell just short of reaching whatever critical mass they needed to do so. Then, one by one at first, but soon en masse, they dropped to the ground, the energy that animated them dissipating into an uncanny chill that swept past Sky and vanished into the night.

Sky let loose the breath he had been holding. He sensed they'd narrowly avoided something dreadful, and he couldn't help but think of Fleetfoot kicking apart the timberwolf remains while Nebula crept up behind her.

But the moment in which Nebula could master them all through force of will had passed. Soarin coiled his legs beneath him and sprung for her, launching himself like a blade. Sky jolted into action, cursing for allowing himself to be distracted by the timberwolf remains.

He stretched his wings out and battered the air, flinging himself behind Soarin. He had but a moment to act, and no way of overtaking the pegasus. Soarin's tail streamed past him, and Sky did the only thing he could think of. He stretched out his neck, and clamped his teeth down on the pegasus' tail.

It snapped taut, the strands of coarse hair biting into the flesh of his lower lip. He flared out his wings and dropped his haunches to try to dig his heels into the ground. He clenched his jaw with all his might, growling at the strain as he hung on. Pulled up short, Soarin slammed into the ground with a rough grunt.

But he scarcely seemed to feel the impact. He spun with fierce abandon, ripping his tail free of Sky's mouth. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. "I've had about enough of you," he growled, and launched himself at Sky.

Sky tried to evade, shooting straight upward, but the distance was too short. Soarin tackled Sky around his midriff, nearly knocking the wind from him and carrying him backwards. Sky flailed at Soarin's back, writhing to break free, a feeling of panic washing over him at the sharp fury of the pegasus.

But this was what he'd wanted, right? To distract the last of the three Wonderbolts away from Nebula. He was a combat trained member of the Night Guard, and he was damn well capable of holding his own against a lone pegasus!

With renewed vigor he punched at Soarin's back. This time, he focused on a single point just in front of Soarin's wings, and hit repeatedly with the fore-edge of his hooves. After scarcely half a dozen blows, Soarin flinched, and Sky wriggled suddenly free.

He gambled Soarin's blood was up enough to chase after him, and raced for the forest. Sure enough, Soarin snapped off a tight Immelmare turn and followed, lunging at Sky and forcing him into wild evasions as he drew closer to the treeline.

He plunged into the welcoming cover of the trees, hoping Soarin would once again follow and put himself at the disadvantage of maneuvering among the trunks. But warier now, Soarin drew up and skimmed over the forest canopy and watched for any trace of Sky in the sea of leaves.

Sky grimaced, but darted among the branches undeterred. He remembered how Nebula had fought earlier, making the forest canopy both her cover and her snare, and drew as high as he dared under the branches. From here he could chirp, and get a hazy sense of Soarin's position in the sky above.

He thrust out a leg and trailed it along the light branches near him, leaving a trail of motion in the canopy above. Sure enough, Soarin took the bait and dove, knifing through the upper branches to Sky's position. Sky dropped and rolled away, but even so, Soarin managed to score a stinging rap to the tip of his wing. Sky ignored it and twisted his way back to the attack, coming up behind Soarin just as the pegasus was pulling up, having missed his target. Sky tried to catch him up in a chokehold just as Nebula had subdued Fleetfoot, but Soarin threw him off at his first touch and shot upward for the safety of the open air.

Sky cursed quietly. He should have prepared better, drawn Soarin into another tangle of vines or something. He doubted Soarin would be so quick to dive in the next time he tried the same stunt. Nebula would have known, Nebula would have been smarter.

Sky chirped and heard Soarin pausing up above, apparently scanning the treetops for a glimpse of him.

Very soon he will calm down enough to decide chasing me is a waste of time, Sky thought. And then he will turn back for Nebula.

Sky maneuvered directly beneath the pegasus and shot upward, leaves trailing in his wake. He aimed a punch for the underside of Soarin's jaw, but at the last moment Soarin jerked his head back.

"Wonderbolts can't take a punch; they won't get a pie for lunch!" Sky sang out as he passed Soarin. He heard a snort of outrage from behind, and immediately twisted and dove for the trees.

Soarin chased him nearly into the green, but pulled back as Sky entered, skimming just above the leaves. For a moment, Sky paralleled him beneath the forest cover, contemplating another leap upwards while holding himself poised to dash aside should Soarin be contemplating a rush down at him. But then he tacked away, silently verging off to his left. He'd thought of something different to try.

Half a furlong away, he shot into the sky again. "Wonderbolts have smelly hooves; 'cuz they stand in dirty—”

Crap, what rhymes with hooves?

It scarcely mattered, as Soarin came roaring at him before he could finish his taunt. Sky dove back into the sheltering forest and sped onward. He zigged and zagged his way among the trees, popping up to hurl taunts from whichever direction Soarin wasn't looking at the moment, and trying his best to keep Soarin balanced on a knife-edge of irate passion.

But at the same time, he was leading Soarin closer to his goal. Every time he shot into the sky, he scanned for his destination. He was certain he was near—and at last he saw it.

There it was, a little clearing, like a puncture in the skin of the forest. And at its center, a fallen trunk, its weathered shape resembling a pony... at least, if one did not stare too long.

Sky pulled at the straps of his armor, loosening it until he had to hold one hoof to the fastener at his chest to prevent it completely sliding off. He bounced upward once more, drawing Soarin toward the clearing.

“Wonderbolts eat moldy hay, bellyache and fart all day!”

He dropped down and rushed to the edge of the clearing. He took a deep breath in preparation, but in truth there was no time to calm his nerves. In truth, there was no time to be nervous to begin with; he had to act, and act now.

He surged upward. “Wonderbolts are—waaaugh!!”

Soarin was much closer than he'd anticipated, heading straight for him with a grim expression. Sky dropped immediately. The moment he was far enough down that the edge of the treetops broke Soarin's line of sight, he flipped free of his armor and in one smooth motion hurled it toward the pony-shaped tree trunk. At the same moment he backed himself tight against the trees at the edge of the clearing.

In the moonlight, Soarin saw the glint of vesperquine armor sailing through the air. He arrowed toward it, his sinews straining in fierce determination.

Sky held his breath as his armor landed, only slightly off kilter, just behind the “neck” of the fallen tree trunk. If you didn't look too closely—or, perhaps, if you lacked vesperquine night vision and were filled with a righteous fury and speed—it looked as if he had settled to the ground.

Too late, Soarin sensed something about his target was wrong. His wings flared out, trying to brake even as he slammed into the trunk with a painfully solid thunk. The armor broke apart, its inner lining rent by the impact, and Soarin was flung across the ferns that carpeted the clearing.

He staggered to his feet, swaying drunkenly. His eyes were crossed, and he looked around the clearing in confusion. “Birdies,” he whimpered, and collapsed, unconscious.

Cautiously, Sky approached. He expected to feel elation at his victory, but all he felt was a rush of relief that washed through him and left his knees shaking. He checked Soarin for any obvious injuries, and then hauled him awkwardly across his back and began the return flight to Nebula.

Night So Bright

Nebula had been busy with vines in Sky's absence, so that by the time he returned, he found Fleetfoot and Spitfire neatly trussed up. They were both awake, and they both glared at him as he slid Soarin from his back.

She nodded to him without surprise. “Good work,” she said around a mouthful of vines. She stepped over to Soarin and peeled up each of his eyelids to check his pupils. “Looks like he'll be okay,” she called over to Spitfire.

Spitfire acknowledged her with a sour grunt. But it seemed as if a tension in her body flowed out of her.

Nebula went on to tie Soarin's hooves together, then had Sky help her draw another vine around his torso to restrain his wings. Once satisfied the pegasus was fully restrained, she grabbed some more lengths of vine and turned to Sky. “Help me bind up my wing. It's not going to do me any good to keep dragging it around.”

Sky winced as he folded her wing up to her body and strapped it in place with the vines. There was a lot of swelling around her first elbow joint, and as he moved it, something inside popped and caused her whole body to jolt. She hissed with pain.

“Sorry!” Sky said.

“Get on with it,” she growled. Then a moment later, as if to distract herself from the discomfort, she asked “What happened to your armor, soldier?”

“Victim of the action, ma'am,” Sky said. “Wrapped it round a tree and smashed a pegasus into it. Not much left of it now.” He thought for a moment. “I'd like to complain to the quartermaster about the quality of workmanship,” he added.

“How did the tree turn out?”

“Err, fine I guess.”

“Then don't complain about your armor.”

Sky finished tying her wing in place. “You need a doctor to look at that,” he said.

“Really? How perceptive of you. Such observational skills are sure to take you far in the Guard.”

He wrinkled his nose at her sarcasm. “I mean, I need to get you out of here... or fly back to Canterlot... or Ponyville maybe, to get some help to carry you out of here.”

She stared at him intently for a moment. In a gentle tone, she said, “You know that's not the priority, Sky.”

He felt a cold knot forming in his stomach. She was telling him to go on without her, as if he could bear the weight of responsibility for...

For Princess Luna? For Nightmare Moon? Even if the Princess really could still be redeemed, he still knew he lacked the insight to bring her back out of Nightmare Moon.

It should have been he who had been injured, and she who was to go onward with the Princess.

But before he could say any more, Spitfire craned her head up from where she lay trussed, and started talking, as if to no one in particular.

“You think you know a pony, think you've had a good drink with her, and commiserated over the idiot greenhorns in your command, and grown to be friends... but then she turns out to be the sort to forsake her nation to follow some insane villain who enjoys the night as much as she does. It's really quite surprising.”

“Why Spitfire,” Nebula grinned, “I do believe you're upset you lost.”

“You're a pain in the ass, do you know that? I just want to understand why you've gone over to the enemy, instead of fighting her alongside us, like you should be.”

Nebula gave her a long look, and sighed. “You cannot hope to defeat her. We... even less so, as it turns out. But that's not even important. What matters is that she is our princess. We will not defy her.”

“Your princess?! Your princess is a monster!”

“No,” Nebula shook her head. “She isn't. And she will remember that she isn't.”

She turned away from Spitfire to contemplate Sky. “You remember that too,” she said.

Sky started shaking his head, backing a step in alarm. “Captain, I can't do this, I'm not... my training didn't...”

She forged on, her voice tight with a quiet intensity. “Private, you are a proud member of the Night Guard, not a mewling foal. You are steel in the cold moonlight. You are of the company that has been steadfast through the nights of a thousand years. You have pledged your life to the welfare of this land, and when Celestia offered to unbind you from the Blessing, you denied her. So don't stand there quaking in your shoes; you have strength you don't imagine.”

Sky stood frozen, transfixed by her fierceness. Hesitantly he nodded.

“She is our princess,” she continued. “We have waited a thousand years for her, and maybe it's made us a little crazy. But here's the thing, Sky. She doesn't know it, but she has waited a thousand years for us as well. We are her friends. Stay true. Remind her. She is more than just a nightmare.”

He took a deep, steadying breath. “Right...” he said.

Spitfire laughed hollowly. “Celestia's teats, you really believe all that.”

Nebula ignored Spitfire and chewed her lip, attention still fixed upon Sky. “Don't forget, you had the guts to get drunk on duty,” she continued in a low tone. “If there's anyone you should be frightened of, it's me.”

Sky gave a faltering laugh, not at all certain she had been joking.

A breeze rushed its way across the grasses, rippling them as it passed by, and then melted into the trees.

Spitfire cleared her throat. “Nebula, you know you don't look like you're in any condition to fight.”

Nebula glanced her way and raised an eyebrow. “Ask Fleetfoot about that,” she said.

From where she lay, Fleetfoot responded with an impressive string of obscenities.

Spitfire glanced her way and snorted. “Looks like I slept through some interesting times. But even so, this is the Everfree. There are big, hungry things out there. I don't relish the thought of one wandering in here to make a meal of us while we lie helpless.”

Nebula gave her a withering look. “Am I a monster now? I'm responsible for your safety. If something dangerous comes our way, I'll make sure you can make your escape, of course.”

And what about yourself? Sky wondered. The Wonderbolts could fly from any danger. Nebula was trapped on the ground now.

Spitfire gave her a guarded stare, brow furrowing. Sky could tell she had not expected such an answer. She was still struggling with understanding the vesperquines' relationship with their princess.

Sky could sympathize.

Then her gaze slid past Nebula and settled onto the treeline. “Huh. Well, here comes something now,” she said.

With a jerk, both Nebula and Sky turned their heads to follow Spitfire's line of sight. There, stepping from the trees, was Nightmare Moon, stately and proud.

She bore no obvious signs of her sorcerous exertions, yet to Sky she seemed to carry a subtle exhaustion in her every step. Nevertheless, she lifted her hooves with alacrity as she made her way to them. Once she reached them, she stopped and looked down expressionlessly.

“You have been busy, I see,” she said, observing the prisoners.

Nebula bowed as best she could manage.

“They have injured you,” Nightmare added, frowning at the sight of her bound wing.

Nebula straightened up and shrugged. “Injury is a risk of battle,” she said.

“They shall pay,” Nightmare said darkly, and took a step toward the prisoners. But Nebula quickly strode in front of her, a relaxed grin on her face.

“Oh Princess,” she said dismissively, “three of Equestria's top Wonderbolts fell to a middle-aged vesperquine and her very junior member of the Night Guard. Trust me, their egos are already paying dearly.”

Nightmare Moon paused. For a moment Sky thought her expression was about to crack into a smile. But she turned away with an exasperated harrumph instead and walked up a small rise, the grasses whisking at her hooves.

Nebula walked with her, stretching her pace to keep up with Nightmare Moon's stride. The alicorn halted and stared into the forest where she had emerged.

“The trap is set,” she said. “Those ponies' minds will be devoured, until there is nothing left to them but an abyss of terror and madness.” She paused. “A pity, really. Given the choice, they might rather a clean death,” she mused.

Nebula tightened her lips. Sky hovered nearby, splitting his attention between her and the prisoners, who strained against their bonds ineffectually.

“Then undo it,” Nebula said. “Release your trap. Show them mercy. Show them you can be kind.”

Nightmare Moon turned her head to gaze on her in wry amusement. “But I am not kind. And I have no interest in mercy. Why should I? Who has spared mercy for me?”

Nebula gave her a sad look. For a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. Then, as if changing the subject, she said, “I didn't finish telling you of your sister.”

Nightmare Moon glanced down her nose at her. “My sister? My sister means nothing.”

“Does she? Really? Well, that is unfortunate, because your sister has sorely missed you all this time.”

“Oh, do tell,” Nightmare sneered.

Nebula nodded. “It was eighty-seven years after your banishment. Princess Celestia's wounds had finally healed, but her mind was still broken. Although they say she had become more wilful in those last few months, often shrugging off those ponies who attended upon her and tried to guide her through the cycles of each day.

“So it was that she set forth for the Castle of the Pony Sisters once again,” Nebula continued. “Her guards tried to distract her and dissuade her, but she ignored them. Once again she soared to the castle; once again a look of confusion came over her face when she saw the ruins it had become. But unlike before, she ignored the chidings of her guard as they tried to bring her back to Canterlot. She settled upon a charred column, and for a long time she gazed upon the broken roofs and shattered walls. Her brow furrowed and her expression became focused, like a pony trying to work out a difficult problem. And then, after a long time, the tears began to well up in her eyes.

“She wept, Princess Luna. She wept for what she had lost. She wept for you.”

Nightmare's eyes narrowed. “Pathetic,” she said. “I do not weep. And I would spare no tears for her in any case.”

Those words—I do not weep—struck a pang in Sky's chest. They were not fearsome; instead he found them terribly sad. “That is a shame,” he murmured, but Nightmare gave no sign she heard him.

Nebula continued her story, undeterred. “After a time, Celestia stirred and returned to Canterlot. She astonished her attendants by greeting them and apologizing for her long convalescence.

“And that night, for the very first time in the lives of a great many ponies, the beauty of your moon rose over Equestria.”

Nightmare Moon stared down at her with an unreadable expression for a long moment. Then she tossed her nose with a snort. “Is that all you have to say?”

“She isn't your enemy, Princess Luna. She loves you very much.”

But her words were lost upon the bedrock of Nightmare Moon's determination. “I have no time for this maudlin foalishness,” the alicorn said with a stomp of her hoof. “Sky Diamond, to me.” She trotted forward, spreading her great wings until she launched herself into a slow glide skimming just above the ground.

Sky followed of course—what other choice did he have? But his heart quailed, and he glanced back at Nebula with a forlorn look.

She held his gaze, radiating a calm solidity. He could not share in it—but neither could he could deny the force of her attitude. If nothing else, he wanted to at least try to be worthy of that confidence. With a strangled groan he turned back to Nightmare Moon.

Her own expression was agitated, her lips twitching into a frown. She grimaced and then shot upward, spinning in the air to face Nebula.

“Captain Nebula,” she said, “your... the Night Guard will soon start reporting back to Canterlot, will they not?”

“The first groups should be arriving before long.”

Nightmare gave a tight nod. “I must complete this errand, but the moment I return to Canterlot I will send a rescue party for you. It... it will be my very first order of business.”

Nebula bowed deeply. “Thank you, Princess.”

Nightmare turned away with an impatient snort. She threw herself into the sky with strong beats of her wings.

Sky spared a glance back toward Nebula, still bowing, and then followed Nightmare Moon into the darkness.

For a time, Nightmare Moon was silent as they passed above the trees, mulling over thoughts she did not deign to share. Sky kept his silence as well, nervous of her mood. He did not know what to make of her oddly solicitous moment with Nebula. Was she remembering the side of her that was Princess Luna, or was she simply looking after her property?

Property. Sky winced at the thought. The vesperquines had not held true to their service for a thousand years in order to become Nightmare Moon's toys.

No, he thought as he watched her glide above the verdure. Not property. She seemed more astonished by them than they were by her. She had not expected to find them, and on some deep level, their existence posed a challenge to the righteousness of her fury.

But he did not question her, or push at her as Nebula had done. He flew off her right wing and left her to her own considerations.

The forest passed beneath him, but he found his attention drawn to the sky. The stars glittered in brilliant whorls and sheets of light, their hues a richly jeweled scattering of red and purple and green. The constellations seemed poised to leap across the sky, sparkling as if quivering with life. Even the sky's darkness was a deeply textured velvet, mysterious with the possibilities of creation. His breath caught as he let himself drown in the loveliness of it. Though the night sky was beloved of vesperquines, Sky had never seen it as spectacular as this.

And Nightmare Moon was the author of these heavens. He could not reconcile that truth with the magnificence above. She was right there on the edge of his vision: a creature who very nearly defined herself by her spite. And yet, her stars were beautiful. And yet, she had spared a moment of concern for Nebula.

From the corner of his eye, it seemed to Sky that her color was shifting, roiling between blackness and a deep, enfolding blue. But when he turned his head to look directly at her he saw only her usual sable coat with just that small splash of blue around her cutie mark.

He was tired. His mind was playing tricks on him.

Nightmare Moon glanced his way and saw him watching. She snapped her head forward and stared ahead into the night, but after only a moment she looked back at him with a sour frown. “What now?” she said.

“Nothing,” he answered quickly. Then, since that sounded like the panicky denial it was, he added, “I was admiring the beauty of your sky.” Which was also true.

She snorted. “Do you seek to cozen me with pretty words?”

Sky shook his head sharply. “We vesperquines love the night sky.” He paused, then offered, “My parents say my name refers to the brightest star in the heavens.”

“Steerius? The Cow Star?” Her voice rose in disbelief.

Sky's ears flopped. “Well... yeah. As names go, that one's not so good. So they settled on the impression it made on them, instead.”

“'Sky Diamond,'” she mused. “Certainly a more poetic choice.”

He nodded. “But what I'm trying to say is, my kind take note of the night sky. And the truth is, we have never seen it so beautiful as right now. It is alive in a way we didn't know was possible.”

She seemed puzzled by his words. “My sky? I only..." She fell silent, regarding him with a strange expression, then murmured, “Remarkable creatures you are, to pay such heed to my night.” For a moment, a trace of a smile touched her lips. But then as swiftly, it faded. “Just as I made you to be.”

Sky felt a spark of indignation catch fire in his breast. “You made us nocturnal,” he said. “But our opinions of the night sky belong to us.”

Her ears twitched. “You are a kind one, aren't you.” She flew on silently, then asked, “Is it only your kind, or are there other ponies, day ponies, who care for the night sky?”

“Oh yes,” Sky answered with a nod. “A few...” he trailed off, as he tried to bring a name to mind, any name. “Twilight Sparkle,” he said automatically, recalling the times the filly had fussed over her telescope and shooed the Night Guard from some section of the heavens she was trying to study.

He knew he'd made a mistake even as the name left his lips.

“Twilight Sparkle,” Nightmare echoed, her voice chilling into ice. “How interesting you should choose that name. Did you know I have ribbons of my mane gathering information all across Equestria? Did you know they've spied out the names of those six bothersome ponies who seek to challenge me? Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, and, what was it again? Oh yes. Twilight Sparkle.” She spat the name like a bite of rotten hayburger.

Sky tried to backpedal. “She's just a pony we noticed in Canterlot, lugging around telescopes.”

“I see. That's why you made sure to learn her name.”

Sky groaned. For a moment he had hoped he might be drawing her away from this, but in the end he only ever seemed to make matters worse. It should have been Nebula here! “Well, she's Celestia's student; of course we'd have some idea of who she is,” he scrambled to explain.

Her brow furrowed. “Celestia's student,” she murmured. “Well, that is a thing I did not know. Well done, Sky Diamond.”

He paused, unnerved by her praise. “She, uh, she was interested in your night, you see.”

“My night? My night?” Poison seeped into her voice. “But, as you say, she has never truly seen my night before now. And is she admiring it, Sky Diamond?”

“Uhh...”

“She rejects my night. She declares herself my enemy.”

“She doesn't know any better!”

“Well then, she shall receive an education.” Nightmare Moon chuckled darkly.

Sky scrambled for some way of turning the conversation in another direction, but it was Nightmare herself who grew silent, leaving her thoughts to wander dark paths unspoken. Sky looked away uneasily as they flew on, and traced the wavering course of a river off to his right. It gradually drew closer, on an angle to intersect their flight path.

Sky felt a prickling along his shoulders, and turned to see Nightmare watching him.

“Tell me, Sky Diamond,” she said, “that lady friend of yours, did she love the night?”

The memories of Belle Dancer stung him. The warmth of her smile, the warmth of her lips... but no, she had never been able to see the night as he saw it.

Sky squeezed his eyes shut. “I guess Belle is a day pony through and through,” he said.

Nightmare's ears twitched. “Ah,” she said. “Thus you renounced her. Sensible.”

Sky's answering smile was a wretched slash across his face. His throat felt thick. “I loved her... still love her,” he said. “I didn't dump her. She dumped me.”

Nightmare Moon's expression chilled. “She... rejected you?”

“She tried to let me down easy.” Sky's voice cracked. “Not that it ever works...”

“She dares reject one of mine?” Her voice seethed. “I shall teach her to regret such folly!”

Sky came out of his self-pitying mood with a cold snap. “Princess?”

“Be assured, Sky Diamond, she will suffer exquisitely for her offense!” She stared into the night as if visions of retribution filled her sight.

She was talking about Belle. She wanted to hurt Belle. Sky shook his head violently. “No, Princess, that's not necessary—”

She cast a baleful glare at him. “I will not tolerate disrespect for my Night Guard.”

“It's not disrespect; she doesn't love me, that's all!” The words poured from him uncontrolled.

She doesn't love me.

Until now, he hadn't been able to speak those words. Even as he said them, he felt his heart breaking all over again. But this time something new came with it—a calming acceptance flowing through him. Though his sorrows and regrets were real, there was a path before him, and he would move onward. For all the pain he felt, it was going to be all right. He was going to be all right.

Nightmare, however.... Her features convulsed in anger. “You are overly nice, Sky Diamond. Do you mean to simply stand there and let her sneer at you?”

“She's not sneering,” Sky objected. “She would never—”

“She scorns you, rejects what you offer! You think I know nothing of such ponies? Turning up their noses and belittling you... refusing the beauty of your night... always favoring your sister...”

Sky faltered in flight, a shiver crawling up his spine.

“It's not her place to reject you,” Nightmare snarled. This wasn't about Belle anymore, Sky knew, and perhaps never had been. She had fallen into the ruined country of her own memories. “How dare she? How dare any of them? Acting as if all your gifts, as if everything you do for them is trash! You have to teach them how wrong they are! You have to make them rue the day they treated you like that! Make her learn to love you! Take her! Force her—”

“No!” Sky shouted out. He gasped as if a weight were pressing on his chest. “No, Princess, no.” He shook his head in sharp denial, and felt the tears spring to his eyes. “It doesn't work like that! You can't force anyone to love you!”

The intensity of Sky's reaction startled her from her tirade, and she stared at him, speechless. He stared back, a defiance born of his despair. How could he make her understand?

“What's the use of a love that isn't freely given?” he sobbed out.

Her mouth tightened, her lips quivering back from the pale glint of her teeth. Fire sparked in her eye, but he held her gaze, refusing to yield to her, riding on the core of his passion regardless of the consequences. They glided a long moment, a broad river passing beneath them as he stared her down resolutely.

If I don't give way, she will kill me, Sky thought. And then, If I do give way, she will be lost.

But as the awful tableau held, a smoky blue fragment of Nightmare Moon's mane swirled up from behind and melted into her ethereal hair.

She flapped her wings, her gaze snapping away from Sky, and jerked to a sudden halt. She hovered, her eyes growing wide. Sky shot past her, then shifted his wings, stretching and catching up the air. He flipped himself backwards and deftly settled beside her.

“Impossible,” she murmured. Naked shock pierced her voice. “My spells... unstrung... with a song!?”

Sky held his breath. For a moment she trembled, as if unable to process the report her mane had given. Twilight Sparkle and her friends must have somehow bypassed the soul-eating traps she had left for them. He felt suddenly buoyed—at least there was one crime that would not accrue to his princess.

She ground her teeth together. Her mane roiled and sparked, until a portion bulged and suddenly tore itself free, shooting downward to the river behind them. It zig-zagged quickly above the glass-smooth water as if seeking something. Sky traced its movements until it disappeared around a bend in the river.

For a moment, all was silent. He looked to Nightmare Moon and started to ask “Wha—” but then a horrified shriek echoed from somewhere downriver.

Nightmare nodded to herself, a trace of a smile etching her lips. The river waters rippled, then grew violently choppy. The detached portion of her mane drifted back to reintegrate with her.

Another howl arose from the distance. “River dragons are proud creatures,” she said. “They will not swiftly disregard a slight. No pony will be crossing that river.”

Sky glanced at the waters dubiously. “They have pegasi,” he pointed out. “They'll just carry their companions across.”

She snorted. “One is a timid, weak flyer. And the other may find the effort—”

The river erupted. A sinuous purple reptile flung himself straight from the water, reaching a shocking height, almost even with Sky himself. The river dragon howled, claws clutching at his muzzle, and then fell back to the waters with a tremendous splash.

“—more dangerous than she realizes,” Nightmare finished in satisfaction.

Sky stared at the river, his jaw dropping. He peered at the churning waters, but could see nothing within them. The creature did not make another appearance.

“Come,” Nightmare said. “They will not die, unless they are very foolish. Are you content, Sky Diamond?”

Sky gulped. He was no Nebula, and he was not at all certain he agreed that Nightmare Moon was, either consciously or otherwise, avoiding killing, but he had an idea what Nebula would say. “Princess, none of us in your Night Guard wish to see your reign begin in blood.”

Her face screwed up into a snarl. “Tell those who dare oppose me! Tell those who would seal me away once more!”

“They're scared,” he said. “They don't know what's going to happen. They're afraid they'll never see the sun again.”

“There is no need for the sun.”

Sky frowned, thinking desperately. “Princess, I don't care for the sun myself, but ponies, they have to have the sun. To grow things,” he stumbled over the words, grasping for Soarin's argument. “Do you like pie? Because you need the sun for pie!”

She stared at him. “Do you think me an idiot?” she said sharply. “Do you expect me to make the same mistakes again? Do you think I want them to starve? Did I not have more than time enough to consider all of this while I was sealed away?” There was a mad intensity in her voice.

“N... no, Princess, I—”

“That which I did to you, I can do to the crops just as easily. I shall fuse nocturnal plants with your foodstuffs. Moonflowers with your wheat.”

“Moonflowers? But moonflowers aren't edible—”

“Mushrooms with your strawberries! All things will thrive under the light of my moon!”

Sky tried to imagine a strawberry-mushroom pie, and then quickly tried not to. He held his tongue, but... how deeply had she truly thought this through?

They flew on in silence for a while longer, and then Sky spotted the jagged ruins of an old castle rising from the greenery ahead. He gestured toward it. “Our destination?” he asked. His stomach churned like sour milk.

“Ahh,” she said, “Everfree Castle. The city is lost to the forest, but it seems this much still stands.”

Indeed, the castle stood—though barely. Two wings gaped open to the sky, their roofs long since torn away, the halls within exposed to the elements. Other parts of the structure showed collapsed walls and broken pavements. Toward the rear, a short tower stood, its empty windows like dead eyes. At the front, there was a steep, mist-filled ravine spanned by a rope bridge.

Nightmare gestured at the bridge. “Cut that,” she said.

Sky dropped to one end. He had nothing to cut with, but it was a simple enough matter to unfasten it from its moorings. The bridge pulled free, and slapped up against the far wall of the chasm with a loud sound, the slats rattling in their bindings.

Nightmare Moon settled behind him, watching impassively. Sky turned to her and stretched his tired wings. Her gaze traced the course of the ravine.

“Down there lies the Tree of Harmony,” she murmured. “My sister and I accepted the Elements from it to fight Discord. It's why we built the castle here to begin with. The city grew swiftly, but we kept the castle grounds a nature preserve, so the Tree would be left undisturbed.”

Sky wasn't sure what a Discord was, or how a tree could live at the bottom of such a deep ravine. Those matters weren't important, though. It seemed to Sky that she had entered a reflective mood.

“The two of you ruled here,” he ventured.

“And we fought here.”

Sky nodded gravely. What would Nebula say... but no, Nebula was not here. And perhaps Nebula wasn't who Nightmare—no, who Princess Luna needed to hear. What was it that he himself could say?

Sky bit at his lip. “She wants you by her side again,” he said.

“A pretty adornment to rest in the shadow of her greatness? I think not.”

“That's not her,” he insisted. “I met her, just this evening. That's not how she thinks.”

“Just this evening?” she murmured. “What a fine anatomist of character you are, to understand her so in a single evening.”

“That's not how she thinks,” he insisted.

“Oh, shall I bring her out? Have a nice little conversation over her wretched tea? And then shall I beg her forgiveness?”

She would grant it, he thought, in a heartbeat. But that was not a thing he could say to her. Instead, he spoke slowly. “If you believe you've done nothing wrong, there's no need to ask forgiveness, is there?”

She looked his way, eyes narrowing. “That's right, Sky Diamond. There is no reason to ask forgiveness.” She paused a moment, and added “It has gone long past the point of forgiveness between us anyway.”

He took a deep breath. “Princess Luna, you know better.”

“Do I, now?” she said drily. But an instant later her eyes widened as she realized the name he had called her—the name she had answered to. Her lips thinned. “You would be well-advised not to try my patience, Sky Diamond. You know very well not to call me...”

Her voice broke off as another bit of her mane swirled through the air and rejoined her. Her eyes closed, and her wings sagged at her sides. She tilted her head back and gave a hollow chuckle.

“Those intrepid little ponies befriended—actually befriended—a river dragon. They have crossed the river.”

The night was still. She cracked her eyes open a slit, and bent her head his way. “Tell me, little one,” she said, “if you have any ideas.”

He could see exhaustion in her face. And how should she not be exhausted? In the last few hours she had broken free of being sealed in her moon, imprisoned her sister, and flown halfway across Equestria (or so it felt to him). Not to mention sundry acts of property destruction in Canterlot.

“Princess, you need a good day's sleep,” he murmured.

She gave herself a brittle shake, dispelling her apparent weariness. “Not until I have dispensed with these interlopers,” she said.

They stood quietly beside one another for a long minute, looking across the ravine. The forest wall across the way was still, the night's breeze having died down. Twilight Sparkle and her compatriots would soon come striding from that morass of vegetation.

Sky thought about what Nebula and Nightmare... no, Princess Luna had explained regarding the Elements. “You and Princess Celestia each held three of the Elements,” he mused aloud. “But a normal pony could only manage one, right?”

“If that much,” she said with a halfhearted sneer.

“There are six Elements,” he said.

“...And six rebels,” she answered with a nod. She gave him a curious glance. “Sky Diamond, are you suggesting I go kill one?”

“NO!” Sky yelped. “But if we can peel one off, get her to rush home or something...”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully and stared across the chasm, her gaze resting on the hanging bridge. “They have only one worthwhile pegasus,” she mused. She gave Sky a crafty glance. “Did you mean what you said earlier? That every pegasus dreams of joining these... Wonderbolts?”

Sky gulped.

The Night's Mare

Sky could not get the hang of seeing the world through two sets of eyes. The bridge and the blue pegasus before him swayed in wrenching dissonance, and it was all he could do to keep the two pegasus bodies he controlled holding position evenly on either side of the one his princess commanded. His senses were dulled in these artificial bodies, which was a mercy because in normal circumstances he would surely be puking his guts out. He was not certain what would happen if he actually tried to speak.

The blue pegasus frowned. “Thank you,” she said, and leaned in suddenly close, grinning. “For the offer, I mean. But... I'm afraid I have to say no.”

With but a moment's effort, she tied off the remaining bridge support, and whisked back to her friends in the mist. Sky thought to chase after her, if he could manage his twin sets of wings that well, but before he could act, his thoughts skewed into confusion and the two phantom Shadowbolts his mind occupied collapsed back into the stuff of his princess's mane. They raced through the ruined castle grounds accompanied by a third wisp that carried the consciousness of his princess. Blocks of stone and buckled pathway tiles tumbled past him in a confusing rush, until he reached the entryway of a grand hall where stood a slack-jawed vesperquine: himself.

The twin pieces of mane arrowed for his skull, and passed through him without effort. He was suddenly back in his own body, his hide clammy with a chilling sense of dislocation. He reeled, his hooves clattering on the stone floor as a wave of nausea passed through him. “Let's not do that again,” he wheezed.

His princess ignored him and stalked through the gaping entranceway into the roofless remains of the castle's entry hall. Sky followed her into the space, dodging aside as she aimed a sharp kick back to swing the ancient door shut. Some residual bit of magic lingered, preserving the hinges so that the door swung smoothly closed.

She said nothing, but her lips were tight with compressed fury, a black rage over this latest failure. But as Sky struggled to find something to say to defuse her anger, she herself gave pause and stared at the large sculpture at the center of the hall's bleached and buckled stone floor.

It was like an enormous orrery. Various arms emerged from the central pillar and held stone spheres, each of which bore its own obscure design. Their surfaces were weathered with the passage of centuries, the stone pitted and streaked.

She walked slowly up to the array, and then a dark chuckle escaped her throat. “Do you see, Sky Diamond? The Elements of Harmony.”

His eyes widened. He hadn't imagined an ancient magical weapon would take the form of a crumbling sculpture. Truth be told, he would have expected something flashier.

“Is it dangerous?” he asked. “What do we do now?”

She gave a snort and strode onward, leaving the Elements behind. He followed in confusion as she left the hall and ventured deeper into the ruined castle's corridors. “Dangerous?” she said, an evil relish in her voice. “Dangerous? They have ossified, Sky Diamond. Time has faded their virtue to mere embers. One of them has gone missing entirely.”

Sky grappled with the implications as she led him up a wide spiral stair and into a large chamber, her hooves clacking against the stone floor. Once it had been a great hall, but now the tall windows that lined its length were gaping holes, still bearing fragments of old glass, and the moonlight spilled in to illuminate the crumbling columns that held up the high arched roof. At the far end rested an old throne, from the back of which stood matching moon and sun decorations. The air was faintly musty with age.

“If the Elements won't work, there's no need for this.” Sky continued cautiously, trying to judge the effect of his words on the Princess. “We can just leave Twilight and her friends to bungle around here, wasting their time. Think how—”

Her lips quivered, writhing back from her teeth as she interrupted him. “I have indulged your foalish timidity far too long,” she muttered venomously. “Every milk-blooded stratagem gives them fodder to mock me.”

“No one is mocking you, Princess,” Sky interjected. Her mood had taken sour turns before, but now it was different. Her wrath quivered in her, tightly reined and searching for an outlet. She was galloping along a precipice, and the slightest misstep would send her tumbling beyond rescue.

“My patience is at an end,” she snarled. “They wish to confront me? On their heads be the consequences!” Her magic gripped the sun decoration of the antique throne and gave a savage twist. It broke off with a loud snap, and she dropped it to the floor, chuckling mirthlessly.

“Princess Luna, please calm down,” Sky said. His heart raced in his chest.

“Calm down?” She slashed her horn toward him. “Calm down? Who are you to command me, Sky Diamond?” Her voice grew ugly. “Did I not make your kind to serve?”

Her words bit cruelly, and Sky felt his jaw clench. Words, unwise words, shot from his mouth before he could think. “You abandoned us. We didn't know what we were. We had to decide how to make ourselves!”

“Abandoned you?” Her nostrils flared. “Celestia sealed me in the moon!”

“What choice did you leave her?” Sky shot back. “Do you think she wanted to do that?”

“Yes, Sky Diamond! Of course she did! She was jealous of my night. She has always been jealous of my night.”

Sky shook his head vehemently. “Even now, she torments herself that she couldn't think of a better way. We all know it.”

“I'm sure you do,” she said darkly. “I'm sure you're all very happy with your princess of the sun.”

Sky felt sweat forming on his forehead. No matter what he said, it always seemed to be the wrong thing. Speaking with her was like riding the edge of a tornado. The slightest miscalculation sent him tumbling into the vortex.

Yet there were things he needed to say.

“Princess Luna—”

“Don't call me that name,” she growled.

“—my kind are of the night. That was what we chose. Celestia would undo what you made of us, but we reject her. Celestia is not our princess. Our princess stands before me.”

She stared at him, her features hard and unforgiving.

“And yet, for all that, Celestia welcomes us. We are the only ponies she can speak with about you, the only ponies who will understand. She counts us among her friends. So believe me when I tell you she wants to be your friend as well.”

She gave him a withering look. “Of course you are among her intimates, to know such things?”

He wasn't. Of course he wasn't; his acquaintance with Celestia was only as old as this night. Yet he knew he was not wrong. Stories of Princess Luna were part of the background of every vesperquine's life, and all those stories had been told to them by Celestia. Her feelings were woven into everything he knew of Luna.

“It's true,” Sky insisted. “Bring her forth, and I swear even now, she will ask you to accept her friendship.”

She barked a laugh. “No, I do not think so, Sky Diamond. I do not think that will be happening at all. I'll not release her; and her rebels... I'll make them pay for their temerity too.”

Sky grimaced. A dark hunger emanated from her, and he shuddered before it.

He tried to placate her. “Of course, but... it's been a very long night, don't you agree? For both of us. Come away for now, and let's both rest and think about it in—”

“Rest?” Her voice cracked harshly. “These ponies dare to rebel against me, and you tell me to rest? There will be no rest until I have made examples of them! There will be no rest until I crush what remains of the Elements before their very eyes, and then I shall crush them as well!” Her eyes shone with a dire fury.

“Princess Luna, no,” Sky cried out. “You don't have to do this!”

She rounded on him furiously. “How many times must I tell you that isn't my name? I grow sick of your games!” Bitterly, she added, “You named me well enough when first we met!”

Sky forged on, ignoring her outburst. “You've proven yourself already; you don't need to make an example of anyone! Your place is assured, your rule unassailable. You don't have make them hate you, you don't have to be feared.”

She gazed at him with a pitiless expression. “But I want to be feared,” she said coldly.

Sky felt a chill of icy sweat soaking into his muscles. He was losing her. Nebula had entrusted their princess to him, but nothing he said drew her from her madness. Rather, he only seemed to lash her onward. Desperate thoughts whirled through his mind, none of them offering a way forward. She wanted to be feared, wanted it! How could she wish that for herself? It was the saddest thing he could imagine. “Princess Luna, no,” he gasped in misery.

She smacked her hoof down on the floor, opening a deep crack in the stone. She trembled in fury. “Again you refuse my real name! I won't have it! I am Nightmare Moon! Utter it! Name me! Say who I am!”

The power of her Command filled her voice. Sky felt it crash through him, seizing him with inexorable force and bending him to her will. He fought against it, clamping his jaws shut to hold back his voice. He knew if he named her Nightmare Moon now, all would be lost. She would fall beyond redemption, and his kind would be doomed to existence not as the friends they'd sworn they would be, but as her puppets. He strained against it, but the words rose in his throat, hard as stones. Panic and despair and sorrow united within him into an amalgam of force to push back against her Command, and for a moment, the strength of his will held against her. But for all his struggle, it was not enough. He could feel the shape of the words forcing themselves toward utterance.

He could feel the shape of the words...

Her name.

Buoyed with wonder, Sky surrendered to the power that possessed him. He let the words come, his voice singing out clarion-like into the night.

“You are the Star-Cloaked One, you are She who Walks the Secret Paths of the Sky, you are the Mistress of the Darkness, the Queen of the Moon, the Navigator of the Nighttide, and the Lady of Sleep.”

Her eyes widened, transfixed as the words burst from him. He let them flow now, joy surging in his breast as he heard himself speak, his voice proudly filling the chamber.

“You are the Starry-Maned One, the Wings of the Galaxy, the Horn of the Infinite Cosmos.”

Her ears were focused rigidly forward, capturing every syllable of his voice.

“You are the Solace of Silent Hours, the Warm Heart of the Shadows. You are the Guardian of Dreams. You are Her Royal Highness, Princess Luna Nox Praesis, Defender of the Night!”

For a moment, she stood before him in splendor, as he had seen her images in stained glass, her coat the infinite blue of the sky at the edge of night, her eyes wide with amazement.

His breath caught in his throat before her majesty.

Then her face crumpled into rage. Her coat mottled to blackness, and she shrieked a shriek of inarticulate fury.

He had lost her. He had come so close, and lost her.

Her horn flared with magic, and he was shoved back and upward, high into the chamber. He slammed into the top of a column, the magic plastering him tight to the surface, and the back of his head cracked against the stone. Darkness swept through his mind and pulled him down.

He fought it, though his thoughts were sluggish and disjointed. The darkness clung to him, holding him back from wakefulness. It was like trying to swim up through a lake of tarry oil. When he tried to pierce the blackness with a chirp so he could hear the space around him, he found his throat locked in a sort of dream paralysis.

Still, he struggled to cast off the cloying stupor and open his eyes. He had a sense of the chamber around him, the hint of something happening, magic flaring and dimly touching his perception. But he could not pull himself from the murkiness of his thoughts, and what coherency he retained was swiftly fraying into the darkness of sleep.

But then he felt a warm glow by his side, its presence drawing the threads of his thoughts back together. Yet at the same time, his sense of the chamber and the waking world faded.

“Sky... Diamond, was it not?” a voice said beside him.

He found himself hovering in a twilit grove, a babbling stream running beneath him, and thick boles of trees standing in a neat geometric pattern which matched the columns of the chamber in the waking world. So it was that he understood he was dreaming.

And also, because Princess Celestia floated by his side.

“Princess,” his voice cracked in shock. “You were sealed away!”

She gave him a rueful smile. “And so I remain. At first I thought I had been banished to my sun. The power to do so would be extravagant, but perhaps not beyond Luna. But I did not feel my connection to the sun, and so I realized she had instead trapped me within the illusions of her dream realms. Once I understood that, I began to comprehend how I could wander through these territories.”

Celestia looked around the grove. A wind whipped through the leaves, yet it did not touch her or Sky. She gracefully drifted down to the stream, where a large oval boulder parted the waters. They furled around it, energetically splashing and glowing with a silver-whiteness no natural waters conveyed.

Sky followed and hesitantly alit beside her in the shallow stream. The water fizzed coolly around his hocks, invigorating him.

Celestia regarded the boulder with a sad expression in her eyes. Why? He looked at it himself, brows furrowing as he tried to read some significance in the smooth rock surface.

Then, in the manner of a dream, the world realigned itself with a lurch. This was no boulder at all, but rather a smoke-colored orb of magic that lay before him. Cautiously he touched it, but the surface was hard and unyielding—it might as well have been the solid rock he had taken it for.

Sparks of light streaked along the streambed, like different colored fishes.

He peered into the translucent depths of the magic orb. Gradually he made out the figure of a pony, curled up at its center. The longer he looked, the clearer it became, until he saw her plainly, an alicorn with the color and cutie mark of Princess Luna. Yet she was small, but a youth, and nothing like the stately creature depicted throughout centuries of vesperqune art. Her mane was not even full-grown. Her hooves twitched and she shivered, as if caught in the grip of an evil dream.

Sky looked up at Celestia. “Is this really...?”

She nodded gravely. “My sister. Or rather, that part of herself she seeks to throw away.”

He turned back to the figure encased in the magic barrier. “This isn't what I imagined.”

“It is how she sees herself,” Celestia said sadly. “She accounts herself weak, a powerless child. Her virtues she regards as juvenile naivete. She is mistaken, of course, but... she cannot bring herself to believe she is mistaken.”

The stream jumped and sizzled in its banks. In the water, the streaks of light were coming faster now, flashing around Sky's hooves while the intangible wind whipped furiously at the branches above.

Celestia glanced upward at the swaying trees. “Tell me, what passes in the waking world?”

Sky's throat thickened as he spoke. “I failed, Princess Celestia. I tried... we both tried so hard to bring her back, but nothing we did... she just wouldn't hear us.” He hung his head, his vision blurring with tears.

“Oh Sky Diamond,” she said gently, “do not be so certain in your dismay. Luna can seem most stubborn when she stands on the brink of making a change.”

Sky shook his head. Celestia's consolation was kind, but meaningless in the face of his defeat. The change she spoke of had come... but it had not succeeded. The Nightmare was too strong.

Celestia stroked his shoulder softly with one wing. “It is still too soon to give up, my little pony. I have not stopped believing in her, and do you know why? Long ago, the steadfast faith of your kind sparked hope in me that my sister was not beyond redemption. Do not imagine that she has been wholly unmoved by you either.”

Though it still did not touch him, the wind was howling through the grove now, the strong trunks shuddering in its grip. The stream had become a racing torrent, its waters flashing in strange rainbow shades.

“Look around you. The dream worlds reflect the state of her mind,” Celestia said. “She is in turmoil. Perhaps it is cause for fear, but I have trust that there is hope in this.”

“I couldn't help her,” Sky said, voice cracking. He rested a hoof on the adamantine magic barrier that encapsulated Luna. “She's still locked herself away in here. I couldn't do anything.”

But Celestia merely raised one eyebrow. “Is that so? Look again, Sky Diamond, and take heart.”

Confused, he looked once more at the orb of magic beneath his hoof. It was no longer the smooth and featureless surface he expected to see.

Cracks riddled its surface.

They spread from beneath his hoof, spidering out across the orb in jagged paths that criss-crossed one another like a mad labyrinth. Luna's image within was shattered into hundreds of broken facets.

I did this?

The stream was roaring now, pouring around his hocks and glowing brightly with all the colors of the rainbow.

He looked back up at Celestia, to ask her what it meant. But she was no longer there. He swung his head around, searching for her.

Then the intangible wind took form. It tore at his wings, caught him up and hurled him high into the air. He struggled to stabilize himself. Below him the stream rose up, like a great rainbow arch that poured down upon Luna's bubble of magic. The sound of rushing water filled his hearing.

He struggled to make his way back down to her, but the wind was like a wall, and his wings felt leaden. Slowly he was pushed away until his back pressed into the trunk of a tree.

The brilliant rainbow filled his vision, while the grove faded away. He was waking up. The world shredded into a mist of insubstantiality, but the rainbow remained, arching before him blindingly. He blinked his eyes against the glare, and understood that this was truth: his eyes were open now. A flood of sensations swept through him, from the hardness of the stone column against his back and the bone-creaking ache of his wings pressed tight to it by the magic of his princess, to the electric sting of inconceivably powerful magic thrumming through the air.

Below him, the rainbow of magic terminated in a whirlwind of searing bright color. Within that maelstrom a figure thrashed, and his heart jumped to his throat. He knew who was there.

Twilight Sparkle and her friends hung in the air, glowing with the power that seared through the chamber. What was it? The Elements of Harmony had faded into uselessness, right? Then had Twilight found some other magic? Sky's mind whirled. Had their whole race out here been a meaningless diversion? But if Twilight hadn't sought the Elements, why had she come here? Nothing made sense.

The brilliant light faded, the echoes of power dissipating. The magic that held him frayed and dispersed, and he had to flap his aching wings to hover at the ceiling. He had not yet been spotted, but could he even put that to advantage now? He was deeply tired, and even with a momentary advantage of surprise the prospect of trying to combat six ponies on his own struck him as profoundly foolhardy.

And was there any point in fighting on?

His heart quailed, but he forced himself to look down, to where his princess lay at the foot of the throne, her shattered armor strewn about her.

She was Luna. There was no hint of the Nightmare about her. The deep and gorgeous blue of her coat shone in his eyes like a promise.

But she was not the Luna of vesperquine art, tall and lovely. She was the creature of the dream realm. And oh, she was diminished. Only now could he sense how extravagantly she had spent herself in her return. A deep-seated exhaustion limned her frame. Her very mane was wan and lusterless, and her eyes were sunken. Her limbs trembled with weakness.

He ached to go to her side, but somehow he knew he must not do so yet. Celestia had said she believed in her sister—but implicit in that belief was the necessity of freedom, the importance of allowing Luna her own choices. And Sky knew that although Princess Luna had been defeated, the matter was not yet at an end.

So he hovered, watching over her as the sun rose, scarcely noting the harsh brilliance that poured in the widows. Nor did he pay more than scant attention to Celestia's own arrival, or her words with the six triumphant ponies. Only Luna, only his princess held his attention, and he poised himself to go to her at her first need.

At last, Celestia approached and knelt beside her. Sky's heart broke to see Luna flinch back; but in her face there was something more than fear and shame.

There was hope.

Sky had promised her the first thing Celestia would ask of her would be for her friendship. He had spoken in desperation as he feared she was slipping away from him. He had spoken in hopes his words would make it past the armor of Nightmare Moon to the soul that was Princess Luna. He had spoken in despair of any of his words touching her. He had spoken knowing he was not speaking truth, but only giving voice to his prayers.

And yet he had spoken truth nonetheless. “Will you accept my friendship?” Celestia asked, and the words thundered through his mind like an avalanche.

He held his breath. Every soul in the chamber held their breath, waiting for Luna. A storm of emotions passed over her face, from sorrow to anger to fear to longing. Her defenses were gone; all that remained to her was her own self, raw and exposed for all to see. He wanted to rush down, to stand with her, but this choice she could only make on her own. Whether she would hold to the past, all that she had become, the rage and the strength, the evils done to her, and yes, the evils she had done; or whether she would put that aside, and start over, seeking forgiveness, seeking to make herself anew.

For a long moment, she hung in the balance, her nose to her chest, her body trembling as if straining to push through a wall only she could perceive. We would be your friends, Sky thought, silently urging her. We have waited a thousand years to be your friends.

Something in her broke then, and she hurled herself into Celestia's embrace. “I'm so sorry! I missed you so much,” she cried out, and Sky let his breath out as an immense, almost debilitating flood of relief passed through him.

As yet unnoticed, he let himself drift to the floor. A thick feeling of lassitude took hold of him as his own exhaustion caught up with him, and he simply stood there, smiling at the joyous reunion, the glad embrace of two sisters reunited. His own vision rippled with happy tears. He looked forward to a good day's sleep... but then he recalled the things that still needed tending to. Captain Nebula's rescue, and of course freeing the Wonderbolts; the flight back from here; the post-action report, much of which he would be responsible for, being the sole member of the Night Guard involved after Nebula's injury—

But a moment later these fresh worries were scattered away as the crazy pink earth pony grabbed him up by the hoof and started dancing with him.

Beneath the moonlight, the Captain of the Night Guard calls her soldiers to attention. Her wing is mending nicely enough that she has foregone her sling, at least for this hour. To one side, a young member of the Guard now newly raised in rank is given the honor of announcing the arrival of Princess Luna. His voice rings out, clarion-clear, touched with pride.

Their princess strides before them for her very first inspection of the Night Guard. She is recovering from her own ordeal, her figure more nearly resembling the stately alicorn they have known only in stylized portraits and stained glass panels.

Quite in breach of proper discipline, the guards have smiles on their faces. They grin and nod, and some even have tears in their eyes. Their captain berates them without rancor, in phrases so colorful the alicorn princess herself finds a smile touching her lips.

Princess Luna looks upon them in wonder. Of all the memorials to her quietly woven through the fabric of Equestria by Celestia, all the places built with a space for her in mind, none touches her so dearly as these creatures. Out of a love she could never justify having earned, they have held her precious to them for a thousand years. They are her soldiers, her Night Guard.

And more than that, they are her friends.

Nightmare

There is a sumptuous set of apartments in the western wing of Canterlot Castle, rival to Princess Celestia's own in the eastern wing. They have never been occupied.

In the Royal Audience Hall, there is a subtly concealed door to Celestia's marble-floored offices, where matters of state are given discussion and decided, for good or ill. Few are aware of a similar door opposite it, and fewer still know of the offices beyond, their floors of black onyx scarcely touched by the passage of pony hooves.

The grounds of the Royal Guard of the Sun, popularly known as the Day Guard, are a common stop for tourists. One can often see the guardsponies training in the yard, or practicing aerial maneuvers around the mass of their barracks tower. That there is a matching tower and grounds on the opposite flank of the palace is seldom remarked by tourists, for one is not likely to meet its occupants on any given day regardless.

There are historians of architecture who hold that these places exist because an aesthetic of symmetry was in the ascendant during the second expansion of the castle, over eight hundred years ago. They are wrong. There are biographers of Canterlot who hold that the great urban designer Master Plan was too deep in his cups when he copied over the castle plans and simply mirrored whole sections of them. They are wrong.

These places exist because of a sister who is all but forgotten. These places exist because of Celestia's burdened heart. These places exist because of sorrow. These places exist because of hope.

“Did somepony kick your ever-loving head up your own rear end, or did you manage that feat on your own? Did somepony grab you by the ears and squeeze all three spoonfuls of your brains out your nose-holes?”

Sky Diamond stood at attention in the office of the Captain of the Night Guard. He did his best to keep a straight face as Captain Nebula paced around him and expressed the various anatomical contortions that might have explained his idiocy. She was good at tirades.

“Are you, or have you ever been, fond of being dropped on your head for sport? Because I cannot think of any other reasons to explain disregarding your duties and getting soused on moonshine over some idiot Canterlot mare dumping you!”

“Ma'am, Twinklehooves and Windshadow were also—”

In an instant, Nebula was in front of him, shoving her forehead against his own, the vertical pupils of her yellow eyes glaring into him. The scattered grey hairs in her coat only added an iron harshness to her appearance. Her wings flared out aggressively, the dark webbing drawing taut between the bony spines. “Don't even try to bring up those sorry excuses for batponies!”

Sky winced at the crude word.

“They're the shame of the vesperquine race,” Nebula continued. She settled her wings and resumed her circuit around him. “But I'll do you the favor of explaining one little detail that puts them head and neck over you. Would you like that, Private?”

Sky Diamond did his best to stare straight ahead. Nebula's desk stood a few paces before him, piled with neat stacks of papers. Beyond it was a tall glass window, through which the rising moon was visible across the domed roofs of Canterlot. On either side of the window were stained glass panels depicting the Night Guard's princess—to the left, she was shown with a stern visage, and to the right, with a shy, tentative smile. A set of smaller panels depicting her were set around the large pieces. The moonlight made them glow in a rich ultramarine shade, though the effect was muted by the light cast from the few lamps stationed throughout the room as a courtesy to any day ponies that might have business with the Night Guard.

“I asked you a question, Private!”

Sky tensed his shoulders and stood even more stiffly. “Yes ma'am! Please explain the relative merits of certain ponies of the Night Guard, ma'am!”

“It should be a very simple concept, even for a bag of moldy dragon dung who somehow poses as a guardspony such as yourself! You might recall that during your little excursion into alcoholic excess, your oh-so-brilliant compatriots were off-duty, unlike your flea-bitten self!”

“Ma'am,” Sky answered, “I do recall something of the sort.”

Nebula snarled at him, her fangs gleaming in the soft light. “Are you pretending to have the capacity to be clever? Are you pretending to have more brain cells than you have hooves?” She let her voice drop to a malicious growl. “Are you really a pony of such monstrous vanity?”

“Ma'am, in all honesty, I would not put it past me,” Sky said.

Nebula's eyebrows shot up. Now I've done it, Sky thought with a certain satisfaction. But a moment later he heard a stifled giggle from behind. Nebula wasn't looking at him, he realized, but past him; and then he felt the light currents of air as the doors of her office swung quietly shut.

Thoughtlessly impolite, he chirped. Nebula's gaze shifted to glare at him for a fraction of a second in warning. But he scarcely noticed as the sound echoed through the room, beyond the range of most ponies' hearing, and formed an image in his ears. Behind him stood a pony, statuesque and classically beautiful, possessed of both horn and wing.

Princess Celestia.

His legs went watery. This was decidedly not part of the plan. Even more shocking, Nebula gave a casual nod to the alicorn and acknowledged her with a simple “Princess.”

“I do hope I am not intruding,” Celestia said. Her voice was a warm purr in the air. “You seem busy. I was merely killing an hour before I must depart for the Summer Sun Celebration, and had no special purpose in visiting, so if you would prefer I take my leave—”

“Oh don't be stupid,” Nebula said. “Come in, Cee.”

Cee?!

Nebula continued, “I was just giving this pus-brained idiot a much-needed kick in the head. At ease, Private!”

Sky slumped and released his breath. He turned and bowed deeply to the Princess of the Sun.

Nebula snorted. “If you abase yourself that much for the Solar Princess, I fear what you would do if you ever met our own.”

At a loss, Sky straightened up and glanced from Celestia's bemused gaze to Nebula's inscrutable features. After a moment Celestia interceded for him.

“Now, now,” she said, “don't be too harsh on your charge, Captain.”

Nebula rolled her eyes. “Bubblebrains here got dumped by his marefriend, and decided he'd try and get thrown in the brig to have a nice long mope without interruption.” She looked at Sky with a wicked grin. “Too bad, kid! You're my personal assistant for the next week instead. Hope you enjoy spit-polishing ceremonial shoes.”

Sky gawped, his intentions laid bare and shattered in an instant; and with Princess Celestia as witness, no less. She stepped toward him, her brow knitting in concern. “I'm so sorry to hear that, err... Bubblebrains.”

Nebula coughed out a series of barking laughs, and Celestia shot her a reproachful glance. She turned her attention back to Sky. “Your name... isn't Bubblebrains, is it,” she said.

He shook his head. “It's Sky Diamond, Princess.”

“Oh dear,” she said contritely. “Please forgive me, Sky Diamond. Would you like to talk about it?”

He looked away and murmured something noncommittal, intending not to trouble the Princess with his personal issues; but from the corner of his eye he saw her look of concern, as if even he, an anonymous member of the Night Guard, were as important to her as a minister or visiting dignitary.

In fact, there was something to her that made him actually believe it.

“There's... not that much to talk about,” he found himself saying. “She's a Canterlot unicorn named Belle Dancer. We'd been going out for over a year. I... thought we were getting serious. I was getting serious. But she... she didn't see it that way. She told me it wasn't working out... of course she said it wasn't me, it was her, but....”

“Oh Sky Diamond,” Celestia said. Her eyes glimmered. “I'm so sorry.”

A queer expression crossed Nebula's face. “It's the Blessing, isn't it,” she said darkly. “She got spooked over the Blessing, didn't she?”

Sky shook his head, but Nebula forged on, her voice growing strident. “Day ponies get such a thrill going out with our kind, but the moment they find out vesperquines always breed true, they flip out.”

“Belle isn't like that!” Sky insisted.

Celestia stretched forth a wing, and gave a comforting stroke down the length of his back, her feathers swiping across the smooth skin that webbed his own wings. She bit at her lip a moment, before speaking. “I... you know, my offer to you, to all of the vesperquines, is always open.”

Nebula narrowed her eyes and gave Celestia a hard stare.

Sky grimaced. “I'm not a pegasus pony,” he muttered. He shook his head, staring at the floor. “Whatever we were... we're not anymore. I wouldn't even know how to be a pegasus.”

Celestia gave a small nod. “Of course. It wasn't my intent to pressure you, Sky Diamond.”

“We're not broken, Celestia,” Nebula said. “We don't need to be fixed.”

Celestia met her gaze. “You all have the right to make your own decisions. And to have them respected. This is sacrosanct. But you know very well this—” her lips curled in distaste at the word “—'Blessing' was nothing but an act of wanton malice that... that my sister perpetrated on you in the depths of her madness.”

“And we came to our peace with that forty generations ago,” Nebula shot back, “while we and what was left of Equestria struggled to hold the land together with one princess banished and the other of no use to anypony.”

Celestia flinched at that. Nebula forged on. “You look at us and see Luna's pegasus guard twisted up by cruel magics. You look at us and see a scar to be healed. You look at us and see your own failure with your sister. Canterlot thinks we're 'exotic,' and the rest of Equestria finds us creepy, but you're the worst of the lot, Cee. Do you ever wonder why so few of us ever take you up on your offer to undo the Blessing? We are proud to guard Equestria's night. We're proud of what we are and the talents we've been given. And we're proud to remember what the rest of Equestria has forgotten: that there were once two princesses, and that we have vowed to keep faith with the one who rules the night.”

By this point in Nebula's tirade, Sky was crouched on the floor, looking in terror between his captain and Princess Celestia.

“Not to mention,” Nebula continued, strutting now in front of Celestia, “we look pretty damn good.” She stretched out one leathery wing and looked back at it admiringly. “My wings are so pretty,” she said, but her tone held a sharp edge.

Sky knew very well what Nebula was alluding to. And Celestia... how could she not? He feared even to glance Celestia's way. “Please stop fighting with the Sun Princess,” he whimpered.

Nebula paused and looked at him. “What are you doing down there?” she asked in a mild tone. “You think this is fighting? Trust me, you've never seen Cee and me fighting.” She grinned at Celestia. “Hey Cee, remember the time I threw a sword at you?”

Celestia did not return Nebula's grin. “I do indeed. I am also certain I apologized to you before the sword throwing.”

“Yes, that was rude of you,” Nebula said.

Celestia turned to Sky and extended one hoof to help him back to his feet. “Please don't be concerned,” she said. “Nebula has a long history of telling me off. I value the Night Guard for its tradition of being... forthright with me.” She paused. “Although,” she said, eyeing Nebula, “some members of the Guard take to it with notable enthusiasm.”

“It keeps you grounded,” Nebula said. She turned toward him. “Sky Diamond, my miserable adjunct, make the Princess some tea.”

He hurried to a small alcove where the sundry necessities for tea were stored, along with a heating stone and a small sink. Also, he noted, Nebula's rather well-stocked liquor cabinet.

He paused, staring at the row of bottles. “Ma'am, do you like to have a snort on duty?” he called out to Nebula.

“Only when I hear what you've been up to,” she said. “Are you still aiming for the brig? You're up to two weeks as my personal slave now.”

Sky grimaced. He was so obvious. He needed to work on that. He drew off a measure of water into the teapot and cocked one ear back to listen to his boss and the Princess.

Celestia spoke apologetically. “I'm sorry, Nebula, I didn't come here to spar with you. I just hoped to visit an old friend.”

“You're calling me old? Cee, I've got another decade before retirement, and I'm sure I can kick your sorry flank around the town.”

Celestia laughed. “I believe I made a credible accounting for myself at Eagle Crag.”

“That was thirty years ago," Nebula scoffed. "Too many cakes since then. You've gotten slow and rotund.”

“I most certainly am not rotund! Name your contest! I'll leave you weeping.”

Nebula grinned. “Oh, weeping is it? I think your ego's fattened up a bit as well.”

Sky listened in astonishment to the banter between his disrespectful captain and Princess Celestia. He would have half-expected her to fry Nebula with a bolt of concentrated sunlight, but from the tenor of her voice she was more amused than offended.

At length, the tea was ready, and Sky arranged two teacups and the pot upon a salver, and brought it out to the others. He laid it upon a low table to one side of the room. Celestia gave it one glance and said, “But where is my cup?”

He gestured. “It's right there, Princess.”

“Well, then where is Captain Nebula's?”

He glanced between the two cups and haltingly pointed to the other.

“You don't like tea?” she asked.

“What...?”

Nebula interrupted. “Princess Celestia expects you to join us, Sky.”

What was this? He was no general or famous idol to sit down to tea with the Princess! He balked, but nonetheless she levitated another cup to the table for him and patted a space just beside her. He gave Nebula a panicky look, but she just cocked an eyebrow and grinned at him.

He poured the tea and sat down at the small table, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. With a jittery motion, he leaned over his own cup and took a sip, the warm fragrance filling his nostrils and calming him. Beside him, Celestia levitated her own cup and took a delicate sip.

“Very nice, Sky,” she murmured.

He stammered a thank-you while Nebula watched him from across the table, taking obvious enjoyment in his discomfort. But she turned her attention back to Celestia before long.

“What's going on, Cee? Something's not right with you.”

Celestia gave a melancholy smile. “Am I so transparent?” she asked.

“Nah,” said Nebula. “I just know how to read you.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow as she glanced at Nebula for a moment before returning her gaze to the depths of her teacup. “It's nothing, really. It's just....” She paused and bit at her lower lip. “Yesterday, my Faithful Student came to me with a... troubling matter she had uncovered. Instead of hearing her out, I told her to make some friends and dismissed her to Ponyville, with make-work orders to oversee the Summer Sun Celebration. I'm... feeling a little low over treating her that way, I suppose.”

Nebula cocked her ears forward. “Faithful Student?”

“My nickname for a promising unicorn pupil of mine.”

Sky perked up. “Is it that purple unicorn? The one who sneaks into the library at night?”

“That would be Twilight Sparkle, yes," Celestia said with a fond smile. "And she has ventured into the library when she should be sleeping a time or two, now that you mention it.”

“A time or two? More like every week!” Sky snorted.

Celestia blinked. “Really? Every week?”

“We have betting pools on whether she'll show up any given night,” Sky said. Abruptly, he realized he might have said too much, given the intensity of the stares both Celestia and Nebula brought to bear on him.

Nebula addressed him icily. “Where in your training did you learn to regard security risks as opportunities for gambling?”

“Oh! No, no, no,” Sky stumbled over his words in haste. “No, no, we checked, we talked to the unicorns, the library patrol, the unicorn library patrol. They said she was okay. No threat. Not a threat. Not.”

Nebula arched an eyebrow in her keep talking and show me how deep you can dig your grave expression. But Celestia shattered the incipient storm with a chuckle.

“Thank you for not arresting my student,” Celestia said. “Although I shall have to have a word with her about when it is and isn't appropriate to advance her studies.”

Nebula snorted. “Let her sleep through the day.” She paused, and added, “Did you seriously tell her to make friends?”

“Well, she needs to! Twilight is a very devoted student, but she leaves herself no room for other ponies.”

“And that's the sort of command that's going to rectify the situation?”

Celestia dipped her head away from Nebula's gaze. “Well, it just came out. I'm not even sure what prompted me to say it, but as soon as I did it seemed right.”

Nebula shook her head with a wry smile. “You're being cagey again, Cee.” She took a sip of her tea, and for a time a companionable silence fell across the table.

Sky found himself fidgeting. It was all well and good to have tea with the Princess of the Sun, but wasn't there reason for concern in what she had been saying?

He cleared his throat. “Um, Princess,” he said, and paused. Both Celestia and Nebula looked at him. Celestia's gaze was neutral, but Nebula's arch stare held equal parts dry amusement and sharp irritation. He gave it no heed, though—she should have been asking what he was about to ask long ago.

“Princess,” he continued, “just what was your student worried about? We are the Night Guard, after all. If some criminal enterprise is endangering the peace of Equestria, we stand ready to defend the realm.”

Nebula gave a snort. “Why, how unexpectedly dutiful of you, Sky Diamond.”

Celestia didn't laugh. She looked at Sky for a long moment, then turned away. “It's... nothing for you to worry about. Twilight dug up some old texts and let her imagination run wild.” She closed her eyes. “I... I see nothing to be gained in troubling the Night Guard over such... shadow worries.”

She stood abruptly, her tea left unfinished. Sky froze, and watched her make her way to the stained glass windows. There was a distracted air to her as she stood, gazing into the cobalt patterns.

“Cee, you don't have to protect us, or whatever you think you're doing,” Nebula said, irritation cracking in her voice. “I think we've weathered a crisis or twenty defending Equestria.”

“Of course, Nebula,” she said. “Forgive me. The Night Guard's service to Equestria is unimpeachable. But I won't have you chasing phantoms alongside my student.”

Celestia stared into the glass depths. The pane before her depicted her sister in a stylized image, one wing curled about the moon. Celestia looked at it for a long time, her expression unreadable.

How many day ponies would understand what that glass depicted? Sky wondered. Few, he answered himself. Very few.

As the silence dragged on, Sky looked across the table to Nebula, seeking direction. But Nebula herself seemed uncertain, perplexed by Celestia's strange mood. She glanced at Sky, then back to the Princess, and finally spoke.

“That window has been restored a number of times, but it goes back seven hundred years. Although you probably already know that,” Nebula said.

Celestia made a negative noise, and shook her head slightly, still staring into the image. She spoke softly, as if she feared to be heard. “Tell me, Nebula, how would you react if my sister ever did return?”

Sky couldn't tell if Celestia meant Nebula herself, or the Night Guard as a whole. Nebula answered as if it were the latter.

“We would celebrate, of course.”

Celestia turned her head from the glass to look at Nebula. “Even if... the one who came back was... the Other?”

“Then we would remind her who she really is,” Nebula answered without hesitation.

A gentle smile touched Celestia's lips. “I wish she could know she has such friends waiting for her.”

Nebula dipped her head slightly.

Sky shifted uneasily. The conversation had turned strange, and he didn't know how to react to a princess who seemed now vulnerable and uncertain. In his mind, Celestia was the bedrock Equestria rested upon. Even though she was not his princess, the Night Guard's princess, there was still a part of him that relied on her to be the pony who led them all with unquestionable assurance.

“How long?” Nebula whispered, her words slipping free of her like spilled wine.

Celestia's faint smile trembled. “You know I banished her eternally,” she said quietly.

Sky felt himself silently mouth, “No spell is without flaw.” It was a thing Celestia had said long ago, words to which every vesperquine staked their hope. Even a spell of eternal banishment must have weaknesses, points of opportunity to be worried at and exploited.

Nebula turned her face aside. “I know... it's just... there's an empty space in us. And maybe it's just the Blessing, but a part of us needs her all the same. And sometimes I fear we will always wait in vain....”

Celestia came to her side then, and bowed her head down to press it along Nebula's neck, a startlingly intimate gesture. Sky looked away self-consciously.

“I... have faith you don't wait in vain, Nebula,” Celestia said. She drew up her head and took a step back. “I miss Luna too.”

Nebula shared a long look with her, and then nodded with a soft smile. “Thank you,” she said. “Even if you are holding back on me.”

Celestia sighed and looked heavenward. “Really, I'm just being moody. I don't know what's gotten into me.” She gave an artless shrug. “I fear it's time I were heading to Ponyville now. My honor guard will be getting worried, and it wouldn't do to be late starting the Summer Sun Celebration.” She reached out and laid a hoof along Nebula's shoulder. “It's good to see you again,” she said. Then she looked over to where Sky sat, still crouched over a cooling cup of tea. “And it was good to meet you too, Private Bubblebrains,” she said with a playful wink. “I hope you can still work things out with your marefriend.”

And with that, she strode from the chambers. Sky gawped after her, and then at Nebula, whose casual manner with her still astounded him. He had questions... so many questions—but Nebula glanced his way with a frown, and then gestured at the tea set on the table.

“Clean that up,” she said. “And be quick about it, I've got paperwork for you to file.”

At a certain point, as Sky wrestled with the haphazard organizational principles Nebula employed for her office files, he concluded that paperwork made time pass more slowly. Of course there were interruptions, moments of interest, as when a member of the Guard stepped into the office and quietly said something to Nebula about the moon. Sky couldn't make out anything else he said, but the effect on Nebula was pronounced. As soon as she dismissed him, she began pacing her office, and he distinctly heard her mutter “Dammit, Cee, you were holding out on me.”

But when he questioned her, she merely glared at him and sent him back to his task. Time trudged onward in a wearisome morass of filing and categorizing. It did not help that Nebula had taken to penning letters at her desk as if possessed. Ultimately he felt sure they were doomed to work their way back to him, to be filed with all these other documents. Categorize, file, receipt of filing, indexing of receipt... it felt endless. How was it the Night Guard's shift had not yet concluded on this, the shortest night of the year?

And just as he paused, that thought starting to shift from annoyed observation to alarming sense of wrongness, one of Nebula's lieutenants burst into her office without so much as a knock on the door. Sky recognized him as Star Dreamer, an officer Sky liked for being easily distracted with wild flights of fancy. Sky had once kept him going half the night theorizing about a nation of zombie ponies in the Everfree. Right now he was wild-eyed, his wings ceaselessly twitching and trying to spread open in agitation.

Before Nebula even had time to look up from her desk, he spoke.

“The sun is late! And there's a disturbance in the city!”

For a moment, Nebula simply stared at him. Then she glanced over to the wall clock. It showed twenty minutes past the hour of dawn. The next instant, she leaped from behind her desk with a curse and rushed to her office's balcony, throwing open the wide doors. Sky followed her out onto the platform. Sure enough, the night sky still spanned the heavens, the brilliant points of stars and whorls of galaxies soaring high above with unusual brilliance. The moon remained in the sky, somewhere behind the castle so that its sharp-edged shadow lay across Canterlot Square and the terminus of Sun Street and Moon Street before him, while the rest of the city reposed beneath a curtain of gentle silver.

On a normal morning, the streets would be full of the sounds of commerce as the day got its start. On a normal morning of the Summer Sun Celebration, the streets would be full of revelers, many inebriated from staying up at all-night at parties to greet the sun.

But this time, even the drunken refugees of the parties were deserting the avenues, sudden influxes of sobriety assaulting their nerves as they sensed something awry in the length of the evening, and an atmosphere of dread slowly blanketed the city.

And also, Sky realized, the crash of a building collapsing somewhere along Sun Street.

Nebula heard it too, her head snapping toward the disturbance. A fog of dust billowed up, obscuring the stars from somewhere along Sun Street—mentally, Sky placed it near the intersection of Sun and Waterstone.

Awfully close to where Belle Dancer lived above her shop.

He was in the air, hovering over the balcony before he realized he'd even spread his wings. Nebula glanced at him, then stared out toward Sun Street.

“Sky Diamond,” she snapped, “scout out whatever is happening there. Stay in the air. Do not try to engage with anything down there. Report back to me ASAP. I shall assemble the Night Guard. Now go!”

Sky caught at the air and surged forward, straining his wings to move faster. He soared over Canterlot, the streets opening beneath him like canyons; but his attention was focused forward, to Sun Street.

To where Belle Dancer lived and worked.

She broke up with me, he told himself. I'm not obliged to come running like this.

Immediately the thought disgusted him. It wouldn't say much for our relationship to begin with if I could stop caring about her with just a flick of the tail now. He grabbed for more air with his wings, and sailed out above Sun Street, through the film of dust in the atmosphere.

Devastation met his gaze. Whatever had come had arrived fast and low, slicing down Sun Street with such violent speed that windows were shattered for a dozen blocks. Where it had reached the ground, the surface of the street was buckled up into a jagged-toothed crater. And beyond that, the destruction truly began. Facades had been smashed into rubble, and here and there whole buildings had been broken wide open, their ravaged profiles sagging toward the ground. Some had collapsed entirely, and in a few places Sky saw a frightening orange flicker as flames began to lick hungrily at the wreckage.

He heard laughter, as bright and cold as crystal, soaring up from below.

A yawning chasm opened in his gut as he realized exactly where he was, and exactly where the laughter came from. Sun and Waterstone. The intersection by Belle Dancer's shop.

He darted forward a few lengths, his vision fixed upon the scene, the details sharply outlined to his vesperquine eyes where other ponies would only see dim shadows cast by the soft glow of the streetlights. The front window of the jeweler's shop beside Belle Dancer's salon had been smashed, and the myriad baubles from its display case lay strewn across the street. A figure, tall and almost unearthly slender, stood above the galaxy of glittering jewelry, head thrown back in laughter.

She wore a silver-blue war-helm and armor, and her horn was a shaft of darkness even to his eyes. A unicorn then, and powerful in magic to have caused such destruction along the street. He tried to recall the case records of the Night Guard, to remember if there had ever been an encounter with such a unicorn before. Something about the war-helm tickled at his memory with maddeningly elusive familiarity.

Then he saw what he cursed himself for not noticing immediately; a shifting along her back of great black wings.

An alicorn.

He chirped, hearing her shape in the echo, confirming she was an alicorn indeed. The chasm in his gut turned to ice. A few years ago there had been a great ruckus when Mi Amore Cadenza had Exalted and become an alicorn, the first such in over a century. He was not alone among the Guard to wonder what they would do if some pony less benevolent should achieve the same.

Now they would have to find out.

Stay in the air, Nebula had said. Don't engage. Report back ASAP.

The alicorn looked up toward him. His breath caught—could she have heard his chirp? Most ponies were completely oblivious to the sound, but he did not know how sharp the senses of an alicorn might be.

Flutter lightly, he thought. She wasn't looking directly at him, so perhaps he would escape unnoticed. If she didn't hear him. If she didn't pick his shape out against the background of stars. If she didn't sense the downdraft of his wings.

Though he meant to flee, he could not tear himself away. He told himself Belle Dancer was not there, that she was sure to be at some Summer Sun party, out all night safe from what was happening. But his gaze strayed relentlessly to the door of her shop, silently willing it to remain motionless.

Instead it slammed open, and a very angry Belle Dancer stormed out. Her pink bangs fell across the sharp green of her eyes in disarray, and her beige coat caught up the glow of the streetlights with a reddish tinge. Sky almost dropped from the air in surprise as she stalked toward the dark alicorn and began yelling at her.

“What do you think you're doing, you big bully?”

The alicorn's eyebrows shot up and she gave a little hop with her forehooves, nearly rearing back. She stared down at Belle, and then chuckled. “So, a little champion comes to challenge me?”

“You should be ashamed!” Belle continued. “Look at what you've done to Fifty Carat's shop! You hooligan!”

The alicorn pawed at the baubles spilled across the ground. “What a misfortune he picked the wrong street for his business,” she said. She levitated a matched set of jewelry, and floated it into the eerie glow of her mane. The jewels suddenly began to glow, brilliant pinpoints of white light among the scattered sparkles glittering in her mane. She tilted her head and stretched out her neck, showing off the glowing jewelry. “My star-barrettes are fabulous,” she announced. Then they suddenly flared into a blinding sheet of white light that sent Belle stumbling back with a gasp. Just as quickly, they faded into dull embers that disappeared into her mane.

The alicorn laughed. Belle blinked, half-blinded, and set her lips into a hard line.

“Eighty bits,” Belle said. “You owe him eighty bits for those. Plus the damages to his business!” She stalked forward a pace in determination.

Oh Belle, Sky thought. You wonderful, brave, foolhardy mare, what do you think you're doing? Run, dammit!

The alicorn snorted, eyebrows quirking up at Belle's temerity. “And will you be collecting for him?” Her gaze drifted to the side, to Belle's shop. Her voice took a nasty turn. “Will you be adding your own damages to the bill, too?”

“Don't you dare!” said Belle, with an emphatic stamp of her hoof.

Undeterred, the alicorn took a closer look at the establishment. “'The Mane Thing—Fresh Coiffures for a New You. (We Also Do Tails!)'” she read from the shop's sign. “Are you serious? 'The Mane Thing'?”

“What's wrong with it?” Belle said indignantly.

The alicorn looked at her scornfully. Then she grinned and took a menacing step forward. She snaked her head toward Belle, and in a voice of consummate mockery she said, “I would love it if you styled my hair!”

Stay in the air. Don't engage. Report back ASAP. Funny how the words of his orders echoed through his mind even as he was shooting toward the ground. He came down between the two ponies, his hooves clacking against the smooth paving stones before Belle's shop with a loud crack. The force of the landing settled him into a crouch, and he spread his wings to shield Belle. “Back off!” he snarled at the alicorn.

Then, and only then, did he start to think of the consequences of his actions. He could almost hear Nebula's sarcastic voice berating him. Oh very clever, Sky Diamond. Taking on an alicorn. How much time do you expect to buy the city while she plays with your corpse? Twenty, thirty seconds?

But Belle had confronted her as well. He could not—would not—let her face the creature alone. He stood his ground, lips set in a thin slash of defiance across his face, his wings still spread.

Two things happened then. First, Belle recognized him. She gasped, and then softly called out his name in an uncertain tone.

Second, the alicorn froze, staring at him with widening eyes rather than moving to kill him outright. In that moment he got his first true look at her, lit in the flickering light of a streetlamp knocked halfway over yet somehow still functioning.

She was frightfully tall, and her coat was black as the void between stars. Her mane was an eerie glow of magic, and Sky thought he could see the patterns of constellations sparkling within it. Her eyes were ice-pale, empty of any sympathy or compassion.

The armor she wore was of an ancient style. Her harness was intricately detailed, and embossed on the chest piece Sky saw a crescent moon.

No, he thought. That can't be right.

Vesperquines preferred to think of Princess Luna when they remembered their princess. But the Other was always there, at the core of what they were, staring back when they looked in the mirror. Vesperquine artists seldom made that side of Luna the subject of their work; and yet traces of it would often appear in the margins, an inevitable reminder of their sad history. Even the lovely stained glass of Nebula's office had a small corner panel devoted to her. And so, Sky understood why the war-helm of the alicorn before him tugged at his memory. It had been right there in the windows of Nebula's office.

No. His mind recoiled from the thought. After ten centuries, for her to return on this night? No, some mad pony had Exalted into an alicorn and adopted her trappings; but it was scarcely possible that the real one should have chosen this night to return.

Sky realized a part of him had always believed Princess Luna would never walk this world again.

The alicorn drew her lips back from the jagged row of her teeth. With sickly gleeful wonder, she spoke. “She let you persist? She didn't erase you out of hoof? She suffers such abominations to walk among her precious little ponies?” The alicorn laughed in vicious delight. She strode from side to side before him, stretching her long neck to inspect him. “What madness! What could she possibly have been thinking?” She paused, brow furrowing. “Or was it mockery...? Does she keep you as trophies of her victory? Has she learned spite?” She snickered. “Well good for her.” She leaned in to Sky, her nose almost touching his own, her horn hanging over his head like a glaive. “To think she wouldn't fix you.”

Unbidden, Nebula's words came to Sky's lips. His voice barely audible, he murmured, “We're not broken. We don't need to be fixed.”

Her eyes widened, huge and moon-bright. An instant later she threw her head back and laughed, great peals of sound ricocheting down the ruins of the street. The echoes thundered in his ears, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

When her laughter faded, she dipped her muzzle to his ear and murmured. “Don't be stupid, little bat. After all, I'm the one who broke you!”

No, he thought. No, this isn't her. No, no, no. It wasn't supposed to be like this!

She drew back. “Shake your head all you like. It makes no difference.”

He was quivering. He felt the muscles of his shoulders shudder, his stomach a cold knot in his gut. But it wasn't fear, he realized. It was something more primal, a howl of betrayal struggling to climb his throat.

It was anger.

Anger for his parents, and their grandparents, and their great-grandparents, and forty generations of his kind who had lived for this day. Forty generations dreaming of Princess Luna, forty generations being faithful to a lie, forty generations refusing Princess Celestia's offer to undo the crime that had been perpetrated upon them.

Forty generations of pridefully imagining the “Blessing” was anything but an act of wanton and vicious cruelty.

“You're not her,” he rasped, his voice a jagged razor in his throat. “You're not what we've honored all these centuries. You're not Princess Luna.”

“Princess Luuuunnaaa,” she echoed in a sweet voice, drawing out the name in mockery. “A weak old name. A name for a mewling little pony desperate to be noticed. A name best forgotten.”

“Shut up!” he screamed at her.

“Oh, is your precious pony princess not what you expected?”

“You aren't her!”

She grinned. “So name me,” she purred. “Say who I am.”

There was a name. It rose in his throat, carried on a black tide of horror.

“You,” he choked out, “you're... Nightmare Moon!”

And her laughter rose to the stars.

Night Spite

Nightmare Moon had eschewed the finely wrought gates and the elegant entryway that fronted Canterlot Palace, and smashed her way directly into the throne room through a stained-glass skylight. Nebula hovered over the gaping hole, gave Sky an “in for a bit, in for a bank vault” look, and dropped into the chamber. Sky took a deep breath. If he really meant to flee, this was his best opportunity.

But he wasn't going to flee. He knew it as soon as the thought formed, though he could not say what logic drove him. Surely the lesson of surviving one encounter with Nightmare Moon was not to push his luck any further. Nor was he the sort of vesperquine who choked up in dewy-eyed sentiment whenever some tale of Princess Luna was told, caught in a misplaced loyalty to what she had become.

No, if anything, the thought of abandoning Nebula grated on him. He was a member of the Night Guard, and Nebula was his boss. Doubt filled him that either of them could truly accomplish anything here, but damned if he was going to leave her to try on her own.

He carefully flew down and joined her on the long carpet that led to the throne. Flecks of shattered glass spilled across the floor, glittering in the moonlight like a field of stars. A guard was slumped at the base of a pillar, with only the smooth roll of his chest to betray he was unconscious rather than dead. Sky winced at the sight.

Nightmare Moon lay sprawled across the throne. She seemed somehow... diminished to his eye, as if the effort of escaping her banishment—or perhaps the ordeal of banishment itself—had sapped not merely her energy, but her very essence itself.

But the next moment, that illusion was dispelled as she noticed them and flowed upright, tall and imposing as ever.

“Well,” she purred, “you didn't run away.”

Nebula strode toward her, and then bowed low. “We would not run from our princess,” she said, and rose.

Sky held his tongue and silently followed Nebula's lead. Nebula nodded her head toward him. "My aide, Sky Diamond. I believe you have already met."

The alicorn stared down at them, her eyes a pale shade of ice. “Astonishing,” she said at last. “Why do your kind still exist?”

“We have been waiting for you, Princess Luna.” Nebula's voice was straightforward, her answer calm and confident. Sky saw Nightmare flick one ear in irritation at the name “Princess Luna,” but she did not interrupt.

Nebula continued. “We are your Night Guard. You gave us your Blessing so that we could love your night. We would stand with you as your companions.”

Nightmare Moon stared at her, then barked a laugh. “My 'Blessing?' Is that what you call it? My 'Blessing,' which warped your bodies into monsters.” She took a step toward Nebula and grinned cruelly. “You were not so thankful at the time!”

“We know our history, Princess.”

Nightmare idly scraped at the red carpet with one hoof and watched them, her expression softening into a perplexed frown. “You should have been begging Celestia to undo what I had done to you. And it is hard to credit that she refused you. Yet here you are.”

Nebula nodded. “Her offer to remove the Blessing is always open to us, Princess. Very few of us take it.”

The alicorn gave her an arch look. “That makes no sense. You are mad, yes? My mad little... what did you call yourselves, again?”

“Vesperquines, Princess.”

“Vesperquines. Evening ponies. How charming.”

“If we were to forsake the Blessing, our vision would grow weak in the darkness," Nebula explained. "Our minds would crave sleep in the evening hours. It would grow difficult for us to enjoy the beauty of your night.”

Nightmare snorted. “No pony enjoys the beauty of my night.”

Nebula shook her head. “That's not true, Princess Luna. I love your skies. There are many of us who do. When I was a foal, I would fly up and try to touch the arch of the galaxy across the sky.”

Sky spoke up impulsively, surprising himself with his urge to support his captain. “I started training myself to fly long distances when I was a colt, because I decided I was going to be the first pony to fly to the moon.”

Nightmare gave him a sharp glance. “It is not possible for mere wings to carry you to my moon.” She paused a moment, brow furrowing in thought. “Though perhaps one might accomplish such a feat by crossing through the dream realms,” she mused.

Sky and Nebula held their tongues, wary of disrupting this introspective turn. But as swiftly as it had come, it vanished again. She turned from them and let her gaze fall upon the throne.

It was less throne than bench, broad and high backed and with fine upholstery stitched with sun and moon patterns. Alabaster and onyx panels decorated its base, and silver and gold filigree chased across the edges. Nightmare Moon sneered down at it.

“Look at her throne,” she said. “She lays claim to the beauty of my night no less than that of her day."

Nebula shook her head sharply. “No, Princess Luna, no. Celestia wouldn't do that.”

Nightmare turned around slowly and faced Nebula. “Take a good look. The lunar metal entwined with the solar, the sun and moon both stitched on the fabric, the alabaster and onyx... everything here shouts that the pony who sits here rules over all.”

“No,” Nebula insisted, her voice forcefully echoing through the chamber. “Don't you see? It's intended to seat two!”

Nightmare Moon stared down on her, then slowly turned her head to look back at the throne.

“Well,” she said, “no need for that.”

She lifted one hind hoof and lashed out in a savage kick. The throne shattered into a cloud of dust. Shards of wood sprayed across the back wall of the room and strips of ruined cloth drifted slowly to the floor.

Nebula's mouth formed an O of unvoiced shock. Sky's ears rang from the force of the concussion. He glanced at Nebula and thought, uncharitably, This is what you're dealing with. Not your poor, misunderstood Princess Luna. Now do you understand?

But Nebula mastered her expression swiftly. She pulled her look of horror back down to a mask of matronly disapproval.

“That throne was as much yours as your sister's,” she said.

There was a reproachful tone in her voice. She dared speak reproachfully! Sky nearly choked.

But Nightmare Moon just grinned her cold grin at her. “No matter. I shall replace it with something more to my liking.”

Nebula paused, then took an unsteady breath and nodded at last. “As you say, Princess Luna.”

The alicorn's lips curled downward. “You are, I am sure, aware that I do not care for that name.”

“All the same,” Nebula insisted, “it is your name. And it is the name we have called you by, for all the long years we have waited for you.”

Nightmare's voice grew brittle. “You try my patience.”

Nebula bit at her lip. “I... am your friend,” she said. “Please don't forget that. Please believe in that much, at least.”

Nightmare barked out a bitter laugh. “It's far too late for friends,” she hissed.

“We know that. We understand." Nebula stood unflinchingly before her. "Nonetheless, we are your friends. When we were pegasi, we resented night duty. We thought you alien and distant, and we did not try to bridge that distance. We served, grudging and sullen. But your Blessing awakened us, and long ago we resolved to do better than we had. To be better than we were. To be the friends we had not been when you most needed friends.”

Sky stared at her. He could hear a thickness of emotion in her voice that he had never known.

“We...” Nebula paused. “Not we, I. I am sorry. Princess, I am sorry. I couldn't be there for you, so long ago.”

Nightmare Moon's eyes widened. For an instant, the cold light in them seemed to flicker.

“Ridiculous,” she muttered. She turned aside, and with an abrupt step she was in front of Sky. He shrank back from her.

“And you,” she said, glaring down at him. “Do you too wish to be my friend?”

Her voice was cold. The vertical slits of her pupils transfixed him. He felt his throat close up and terror surged in his blood. No, he did not want to be her friend. He wanted to be away from her, he wanted never to see her again.

He shied away from her gaze.

“I see,” Nightmare Moon said. Her voice was as precise as a scalpel. She smiled at Nebula, a thin, unpleasant smile. “This one,” she gestured at Sky, “seems more like the Night Guard I recall.”

Nebula winced. “The situation... he is still—”

“Silence,” Nightmare Moon snapped.

I failed, Sky thought. After everything Nebula said to me, the very first thing I did was mess up. But he could not proclaim a love he did not feel. He wanted to support his captain, but he could not bring himself to lie.

Something in his heart told him Princess Luna could never be saved through lies.

Perhaps the truth also was powerless to save her. But if not to Nightmare Moon, at the very least he owed the truth to Nebula. He took a deep breath. “Princess,” he said. His voice carried softly through the chamber. “Princess, you frighten me. And... I apologize for that.”

He bowed low, for a long moment. When he dared look up, he saw her staring at him as if he'd grown an extra set of wings.

“Why apologize? It is the natural state of things.”

He opened his mouth uncertainly, but before he could say a thing, her head looked away and upward to the smashed wreckage of the skylight. He followed her gaze, craning his head around to see, but at first he could sense nothing.

Then he saw motion, a rippling in the air that resolved into a wispy smoke-like substance, the deep cerulean shade of Nightmare Moon's own strange mane. It spilled into the audience hall, and, as if propelled by a strong breeze Sky could feel no trace of, flew to Nightmare Moon.

It merged into her mane, and Sky realized with a shock that it was the stuff of Nightmare Moon's mane, somehow acting freely.

Her eyes widened for a moment, as if her mane were whispering some new tiding into her ear. She swung her head around and gazed at Sky and Nebula.

“Well,” she purred, “that did not take much time. It seems there are already ponies plotting mischief in... Ponyville, was it not?” She spread her great black wings, and gave Sky a piercing stare as she said, “Come, my faithful guards.” Then she swept her wings down and launched herself into the air. “We have rebels to crush!”

Nebula glanced at Sky, furrows of worry creasing her forehead, and took to the air after her princess. Sky looked around once more at the wreckage littering the royal audience hall, and followed.