The Queen was gone, to everypony's horror. The draconequus she had left her power to fell to madness, corrupted by that absolute power. The Queen's youngest daughter found love, but he fell into darkness, blinded by his pursuit for power. She needed something to take her mind off things, a light to look to, far from the pain of the past.

She looked down, into the depths of the world, and found us. Orphans, criminals, dying souls. She brought us back, gave us her light and flame. Even still, with our help, our anchoring, she grew bitter. We were the only ones who gave her mind, who gave her peace. She tried to fight, to make thing right by her mind.

She failed herself. We failed her. And so, we, her Children, her Soldiers, her Nocturnal, we wait.