Snow fell in thick, sooty flakes from the sky. Normally it would have washed the land clean, taking the filth of the previous year with it when it melted. But now, the snow could only mask it.
In front of Twilight, the Monument simply...endured. It still stood, defying years upon years of erosion, seemingly the only natural process left in the world.
Twilight walked forward, and stopped where the steps began. The unrelenting gray of the Monument assaulted her vision, and she ducked her head until the tears cleared. Then she forced herself to look at it. To study the result of her mistakes.
It was a relatively small structure, all things considered. The thing couldn’t be larger than Ponyville’s old town hall, before it had been torn down and replaced with something more...efficient. Always something more efficient. Applejack’s family farm had been among the first to be replaced.
Memories could wait. Would wait. That was for later. She drew her eyes back up toward the Monument. The steps leading up on all sides, the four pillars that stood at the four corners where the steps ended, and in the middle—through the empty space of snow covered stone—the statue.
The shape of Nightmare Moon posed against the backdrop of snow-capped mountains and a row of flags which proudly bore the emblem of the New Lunar Republic: a crescent moon and four lonely stars on a navy background.
A warm breath puffed against Twilight’s shoulder. She held her position for a moment more, then began the long march up the stairs.
When she reached the halfway mark, she stopped. Without turning her head, she repeated the words she’d said one year ago to this day, and a year before that, and a year before that, back and back to a time that no longer existed except in shadows.
“Why did you do it? Why, L—”
She even kept that first stutter. Now, she barely remembered how to complete it. Not that she would.
Not that she could.
“Why?” she repeated from memory, the word falling, more than projecting, from her frozen lips.
Another breath against her shoulder. Another pause.
She continued the walk. The ritual. The memory. The torture.
She reached the statue.
She reached Celestia.
“Why?”
This word was her own. She was off script. She could feel the Nightmare frown.
She knew why.
What better way to break a spirit than to turn a cherished memory into a twisted Nightmare?
She extended her hoof and brushed a patch of snow away. The patch over the statue’s heart. She followed the script.
Felt the smooth gray stone.
Bent her head and cried.
Collapsed to the ground.
This might be the last time they came. She’d been thinking about it for several years now, but this time really could be the last. The factories all across Equestria had managed to block out the sun early in the Nightmare’s reign, and without contact with her natural element, the former Princess—she still thought of her that way—would eventually crumble. The stone would crack, crumble, and fall away, blown with the winds. And she would be gone forever. She already was, in a way. Had been, when the Nightmare had ordered her sister’s stone form encased in another, larger statue. One of herself. She had assured Twilight that her former teacher was still awake inside her prison. Awake and screaming. Awake and screaming and without even the ability to hear or see that she otherwise would have kept.
Twilight stayed on the ground a few seconds longer than normal, and felt the frown again. She stood up and finally turned around.
The Nightmare’s power had grown since her imprisonment. She could shift into pure shadow, blacker than the cold void of space, harder than a diamond—spike—and colder and more chilling than her laughs.
That was easier to bear.
She was solid. Familiar. Evil, but not wasteful. Ruthless, but practical. Cold...but understanding.
“Try it, then. Call upon your Elements.”
Twilight gave the Nightmare a halfhearted frown. She raised a hoof, opened her mouth. Went through the motions. Numb.
“They...won’t come.”
Her voice was dull now. Not shocked. Apathetic.
Pathetic.
She turned away from the flesh-and-blood Nightmare, and back to the stone one. Once again, a hoof rested above a stone heart. The grime clinging to the stone transferred itself to Twilight’s hoof. She would have to clean it off later. After she was done. Again.
“Princess.”
No response. As expected.
“Princess. If you can hear me...”
She couldn’t. The Nightmare had assured her of that. Had let her test. Had encased her inside her own stone statue, once. She still saw things, when it got dark.
“It’s Twilight. I hope you’re okay. If you can do anything...anything at all...”
“Come. It is getting dark.”
She still said that. It was always dark, now. The sun had been gone for so long. So very long. But the ritual went on.
Twilight plodded after the Nightmare.
They left the Monument. It looked small, afterward. It always did. A small gray smudge against a sea of endless white.
“You will be well rested tomorrow, my student. There will be more forms to fill out.”
She never asked questions. Never gave commands. Only statements. Her will would be done. It was a fact of the universe. Water flows downhill. Fire is hot. Rocks fall without levitation. The sun was gone. Nightmare Moon’s will was done.
“Yes,” Twilight said.
It was the only response. She’d considered another, once. A long time ago. A very long time ago.
She would get her rest. There would be forms to fill out. There were always forms to fill out. Then she would report on them to her Princess. They were boring. There was no math involved. Not even any politics, anymore. Not after she’d started to enjoy it. Now she filled out her forms and reported to her Princess.
And her remaining friends would live another year.
The Nightmare’s castle was the warmest place in Equestria. Twilight would rather be shivering in the cold.
“You didn’t notice the clause that stipulated trading away the treasury,” Nightmare Moon said, an eyebrow raised.
“No.” Dully.
Another point struck through. Another form signed.
“Or the one allowing slavery.”
“No.”
Nightmare Moon already allowed slavery. It wasn’t called that, but any company desperate or greedy enough could write up airtight legal contracts to buy the rights of their workers. And nowadays, that was all of them.
Read. Strike through. Sign.
“Or the one letting you see your friends.”
Read. Strike through. What.
“I rather thought that might get your attention.”
What.
“You have been boring. That is unacceptable.”
The Nightmare hadn’t let Twilight see her friends since she’d taken control. Hadn’t hinted she’d ever be able to. Threats and torture, that was it.
The pen—a new device, replacing the quill—fell to the floor, forgotten.
“My...friends?”
There was a sharp pain in the back of Twilight’s throat. Her vision started to blur. Threats she could handle. Had handled. Would handle again. Hope...she only allowed herself to hope once a year.
Or at least, she used to.
Until the statue crumbled, and Celestia was no more.
The Nightmare eyed her with satisfaction. “Come.”
She moved, a dark blur that sped out of the throne room. And presumably to the dungeons. The dungeons. Where Twilight’s friends were.
A flame blossomed in her chest. She could see them. She could finally see them. After all this time.
Tears, frozen for so long, finally began to flow.
Out of the throne room. Down the halls. Toward the staircase.
She flew through the castle like the Nightmare herself, fast, silent, not a hoof out of place. She’d never taken this route before, despite having memorized the castle blueprints long ago. The Nightmare was always too close. Privacy no longer existed for her. In fact…
This was the first time she’d been away from the dark Princess’s presence for years.
No time to savor it. Her friends...she would finally get to see her friends. Out of the staircase. Into the dungeons proper. Left, left, right left, straight…
She stopped. Her heart turned to stone. Tears refroze on her face.
In front of her, in the dimly lit hallway outside the cells, lay an earth pony.
A gray earth pony with a pink tinge, and frost on her body.
And a cutie mark of three balloons.
“Pinkie?” Twilight breathed.
The Nightmare turned to face her. “This is the last one. The others couldn’t stand the cold, or the loneliness.”
“No...”
“Twilight.” Pinkie Pie coughed.
“No.”
“Twilight. Remember.”
“No!”
“Remember to smile.”
“No!”
“Find...Spike...”
Twilight froze.
Spike was dead. Had been dead ever since he’d escaped imprisonment and Nightmare Moon had sent soldiers after him. The Nightmare had shown her his tail.
Pinkie Pie’s mouth trembled, then stretched. Slowly, stiffly, the corners turned upward. She smiled.
And the ice finally covered her face.
“Spike...” Twilight murmured. She gently set a hoof above Pinkie’s face and closed her eyelids, one after the other. It was hard. The ice had already settled in.
The Nightmare laughed, and inwardly, so did Twilight.
Spike was alive. If he was alive, he had friends. Nightmare Moon hadn’t managed to conquer the Dragonlands.
And even a broken mare could take up arms with the faithful assistant she’d lost so long ago.
So while the Nightmare laughed, Twilight cackled. She didn’t feel happy. Or sad. She didn’t feel anything. She was broken. And she would fight so no one else would share her fate.
