Twilight? Are You There? Please, Twilight, Answer Me!
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Twilight? Are You There? Please, Twilight, Answer Me!
Where Are You, Twilight?
B_25
Twilight? Are you there? Please, Twilight, answer me!
I’ve been alone before. Confused too, but I’ve always had support where I needed it, something to bring me back to the light. Now I’m alone again, a solitary sigil in this horrible, pervasive darkness, and all I can remember is how you used to save me.
You told me not to follow you; I didn’t listen, and with that choice, the world’s luminescence began to burn away. I don’t know where you are, Twilight, and I’m searching so desperately, but I’m scared. Truly scared.
I should have listened, I should have trusted that you’d know what was best, but it looks like I couldn’t manage even that. Here’s hoping it only comes back to bite me and not you.
Through the shroud of all-encompassing black, there’s a light floating in my peripherals. When I turn, the dim sunlight almost vanishes. Slices cut in through cracks running along the brick walls, into the missing chunks of the corridors. The wisps of cloud are faint, dim radiance lurks below. I only became aware of my own convulsions when a gust of wind slapped against my side.
I'm sorry, Twilight, I'm truly sorry.
The floor is groaning at my every step. Bricks are breaking from their foundations just to plummet to the gray clouds below, and the constant trembles of the corridor yearn for a sudden collapse. I could fall at any second, assaulted by that which supports me now, to a death leagues below me—I’m not scared, only filled with guilt.
I shouldn't have followed you so blindly, especially after you told me to stay behind. I just didn't want you to face trouble alone, to get kidnapped, or something far worse. Even if the same fate should befall me, I'd still rather be at your side.
My feet finally found solid purchase, I had made it across unscathed. The entire world is falling apart around me, a never-ending chasm growing deeper with each step. There’s a hole in the ceiling. Beyond lie towers of gilded gold and royal purple, tapering arches and high stone walls, stained glass broken and shattered. I’m awash in familiarity.
I don’t know where I am, Twilight, but I feel like I should. Please, answer me, Twilight… why aren’t you answering me?
Darkness clouds my vision, so thick I’m unable to see. I stumble into a chamber just as I hear the sound of chains beginning to grind—metal impaling brick and dirt—butterflies flock to my stomach, craving escape as the floor beneath me is broken away. I can feel myself falling before my feet leave the ground. It’s over before it starts, a splash of water assaulting my cheek as I land, my joints screaming in agony.
The paper is wet, but not breaking away; is it affecting the handwriting, Twilight?
I emerge from the strange liquid as it endeavours to keep me under, wiping my claws against my scales above surface. Instinct takes over as my chest begins to contract and heat builds inside, releasing a torrent of green fire, illuminating the dark room. I’ve come to miss the dark, Twilight. The room has is ablaze in my green light—it’s not water but gasoline I've fallen into. The words on the page glow as bright as the flames.
I’m sorry, Twilight, looks like I’ve screwed up yet again.
I push my back against the wall. it chills my spine, but I press against it regardless, desperate to escape the spreading flames. My scales may be impervious to the heat, but my legs still tremble at the feel of the shifting, coagulating flammable sludge. In the midst of the smoke and fire, a glint of gold emanates throughout the room—an escape, a chance of descent.
The gasoline slaps against my thighs as I waddle through the pond, submerging my right claw as I cross to the golden gate that stands in my way. Heat roars against my back, the wall splits and cracks under the miasma of heat, and the constant trembles from the flimsy structure—once a steadfast fortress— indicate what is to come.
My claws grasp the golden metal rods, taking a stance beginning with my feet, as my back arches and my muscles pump. Hearing a creak from either the grate or the floor, I redouble my efforts, straining against the rods.
A louder creak. The liquid was draining. Despite the current, the paper floated beside me.
Another creak sounded as the weight lessened, and I threw the gate up. I shot a claw back just as the chamber came crumbling down, grabbing it as the floor gave away and throwing myself into the dark passage.
How long did I roll?
I could feel every step, corner and turn shocking my nerves. It hurt, getting worse as I picked up speed, but I persevered, for there was nothing else I could do. I wondered briefly if it would have been better to have fallen with my flames, but I knew if I had acceded to their desires, I'd never see you again.
It stopped. Everything stopped. I was no longer rolling or falling, so I took my first breath of air, promptly beginning to pant as I savoured the fresh oxygen with unbridled relief.
I uncurled my limbs into the abyss, briefly welcoming it. I could barely see the paper that clutched to my chest, only the green glow of its ever-present and ever-expanding writing betrayed its presence. I hope you're seeing this from a better place than here, Twilight—hopefully you're back at home without this stupid paper.
I stand, the world a fuzzy haze, my body hollow and spent, but I know that I can't stop now. Exploring this castle would tell me where I was, and if there was a chance of making it back home. Of finding you. It seemed to be breaking apart, and falling into sleep would only bring me a transient peace, so I rose my claw, still wet, and covered it in flame.
The room bathes in green light at my behest. Gasoline itches my scales, but there's no real pain in keeping the fire. For now, it would be my torch through this world, as I continue down the passage. Rubble stubs against my feet and bars prevent entry into some of the rooms. There are many passages like these as far as I can see, though I’m unsure which will bring me back to the castle.
I can't stop shivering, even when bathed in the warmth of my flame. The architecture is archaic, the halls long forgotten, but what worries me most is the absence—absence of sound or remains. I'd expect to see skeletons, items left behind by those from long ago, yet all that remains is the deteriorating furnishings of the castle itself.
It was as if this castle was made long ago, but not a soul ever lived inside of it, except for me now. Wouldn't that be weird, Twilight? Say if Celestia had built the Canterlot Castle, but never stepped hoof inside?
These halls never seem to end, they all look the same. There's no way out, the corridors only leading further within as my flame begins to reach the end of its wick. It's coming back to me now, venturing into the black cave, seeing the lavender light at its end.
I'm sure if I had your light, Twilight, it would help me shine my way out of this labyrinth. All I can do is take a lesson from you: If I stop walking, then my light will never be given a chance to find a way out. There are no clues, no markings to suggest that one way is any different from another. I've just got to keep walking and find a way out.
How are you, Twilight? I know I can't stop this, but if I were in control of how this account was written, I promise I'd spare you these nagging thoughts. I know I can be crude and selfish, a little arrogant even when I'm in the wrong, but I do care about you. There's not a lot I can do to show that care towards you, other than being there for you, something which I'm hopelessly failing as I write this.
I wish I was the one writing this.
It can't be. Twilight, you won't believe this, but I've found a way out! I found this barrel filled with gasoline and set it against the wall. You probably know what I did next, even if it didn't write itself, but I swear there was no other way. I'm at the point where I'd rather the room collapse, and I fall from the explosion than wander till I’m the one collapsing. The wall blew open, and the ground shook, but the trembles ceased a few moments later, a spiraling staircase awaiting me on the other side.
I hate you Twilight. I hate how wonderfully gifted you are. I hate that you took in a dragon as your first friend. I hate that you became a student of a princess at such a young age. I hate that you became an Element of Harmony, made new friends, and saved the world again and again.
The staircase is draining me more than the aimless wandering, but knowing that there's a destination, something after I've made it to the top of this spiral, fills me with the motivation I need to make it up there. We're already above the clouds, this I know, but I can’t help but wonder if blue skies await me up above—I hope they do.
Soaring. My wings wide and body leveled, feeling the current of the wind and the sun shining bright. The air is fresh, green land spanning vistas with life of all kinds, and a castle sits in the distance, a far off memory that begs to be acknowledged.
Twilight, are you still there? Again, I'm sorry for what you've read, I'm not the writer of these words. They're appearing on this page with every vision and thought.There's not even a quill, yet the words are writing themselves.
I've made it to the top, struck at first by howling winds and spades of grass. I'd heard not the current during my ascent, only feeling it now upon being in open land, but that'd be a lie. There's a small patch of land, the left of me is the drop to endless skies, and the right the side of some kind of mountain.
Where am I, Twilight, and how did I get here? How could a castle be built up in the skies, or is the world around me just some kind of mirage? No one has tended to these parts for eons, and yet the grass is cut and marred with...ash?
I look forward, past the scrap of land populated by rocks and boulders, to the faded steps leading into the golden kingdom. Two fountains stand before the entrance of the castle, long since having gone without water. I examine their tips, the gold too marred and aged to give away what they were made to be.
All I could grasp was they were shaped like a pony, but who, I'd never know.
Where are you, Twilight? This place is weird and creepy, fresh and forgotten, but I don't mind it so much. To be honest with you, it feels like I've been here longer than I remember, so I don't mind waiting a while if it saves you from trouble. If anything, it’s peaceful here. I just wish you made it home, home to where all your friends are, home to where I should be.
I'm at the beginning of it all, it seems, stood before two massive doors. The plaster of the castle is marred and rubbing off, slowly coming away as the years flash by, yet not calling to be made fresh and whole again. That didn't make sense. Why wouldn't a castle want to return to its former glory? Why did I desire it to continue to fade?
My claws grasped the gates, the contact jolting my body with memory as I’m once again lost. I'm flying again, in the sky above the one below, with a body that is and isn't my own. The vista of glass was lit aflame, forests burning in clouds of smoke, my claws not purple but red.
Why couldn't I have been a pony, Twilight? Why couldn't I have lived the same life as you and be as respected as you? Is it so wrong to desire intelligence, to have friends and be known as a hero? To be accepted even though others know who you are?
I'm sorry, Twilight, I'm not writing this, but at the same time, I am. I can't stop these thoughts, these feelings and emotions, they just come and go regardless of what I think or try to suppress. I know they're not thoughts you deal with, ideas that never cross your mind, thoughts you never wrote in your diary as I do on this page.
Dust falls from the doors as I push them in. It feels heavier, the dust and not the doors as it falls upon my shoulders. There's a weight to them heavier than the two physical beasts before me, so much that I begin to slump as I push even harder than before. The door inches inward, the winds shifting alongside me and filling through the crack, until finally the door was yanked open by the current.
Gold. Rocks. Gems and other crystalline objects. They twinkle in the distance, brighter than the sun, like they're the last hope in a world of pleasure, yet they're bathed in a sinister glow. I'm reminded of a King, the one that you read to me, Twilight, who faltered to his greed, and thus was locked away in a golden cave for all eternity. Every time a situation reminds me of that story, I can't help but assess everything that can go wrong—not because I'm good in spirit, but in fear of punishment.
Beyond the hoard, I see it, the golden throne perched above. Something’s on it, beckoning me towards it, the key to escaping this wretched place.
Strands of red carpet tickle my underfoot, which until now has only known of stone and dirt, of grass and gas. It's coated in dust, the fibers ingrained with the stuff that my every step feels like I'm squishing out. It's hard to walk with that sensation, but all of this has been to reach here, and I'd be a fool to stop now.
Twilight, you told me that ignorance is bliss, and in the face of an overwhelming truth, one that would cause you insanity at the prospects of being unable to change it, it would be better to be ignorant so that the rest of your days may be spent in bliss. It makes perfect sense—why go mad when it serves no point?
But you were a mare of truth, always seeking it, and you were always the one I emulated most. Madness was something I could bear, I grab hold of the truth even as it cuts through my scales, because no fate could be worse than not being at your side. This castle would tell me about what happened, where I was and how I'd got here, if there was ever a chance of me returning to your side.
Dim light shines upon me as I amble through the forgotten ruins. Columns surround me, chunks of them missing and the rest degrading, more and more of the dust falling around them. My attention is drawn to the shards of glass, once windows that accentuated the light, retelling the history of those who were here before.
Before the first staircase is where the story began, alicorns of black and white, wielders of light and night. A betrayal and revenge, the banishment of a thousand years, cast away within the chambers of her art.
I swallowed. The castle felt familiar, casting the same aura as the one in which we spent our early lives. But this was not the same place, that castle would never come to crumble like the one I was in now. What happened after the colors faded, Twilight? Why was I not allowed to follow you?
The scattered shards of the second staircase told your story, Twilight. Of the friends you made and the evil that you banished. Your deeds were remembered by me even when they had become forgotten to this world. Try as I might, however, I found no shard that belonged to me.
The third staircase held the truth. Of my madness and of your descent. Until now I'd been looking for myself, and when I had found it, I’d wish to return to bliss instead. The shards showed six tearful ponies, two princesses, and one dragon; the latter was so large he dominated most of the memorial. The dragon had fallen to the magic, but before the deed could be done, you took him away to somewhere safe.
I remember it vaguely, as if it was a story I had heard of an evil dragon residing in a cave. You left the dragon there instead of following through with your duty, instructing that he never follow you, that he never leave. Gold and gems were littered throughout that cave, but you never came back, his most treasured jewel of all. Long ago, it was just you and him, alone in your dark rooms, but the light had shown to you the ponies and the world that was at your beckon.
Light. Ponies. They'd taken you away from him. And in that dragon's rage, he left the cave, seeking to stomp and strangle out the light. Vistas of land were set aflame, villages slain and armies devastated, all that stood between eliminated in that phase. The sisters didn't stand a chance as they lay dying, impaled in his claws. Both were sent back to the moon and the sun, and with that their brilliance faded.
The dragon made his way back inside the castle, but instead of finding you locked away, he found you surrounded by the friends that had whisked you away. He'd thought he'd be fighting for your freedom only to find you as his foe, the result of those pesky other mares. Your friends. They were wearing the Elements of Harmony, and the dragon had become their new villain.
But their attempt failed, the heart of their magic unable to do away with the one that she loved. In a single burst of fire, the six were caught in his tempestuous flame, and before the dragon could realize his mistake, the six had turned to ash.
The dragon's rage became something more, something so savage even to this forum. At the loss of his best friend, the dragon burned down the world, appeasing his rage while offering no true recompense. Once all that had been turned into ash, the dragon marked the location of his biggest regret, and awaited the nothingness.
I want to go home now, Twilight. This different world, different timeline, it's scaring me. I don't want to be here, the dust and the decay are causing me to scream. You can't see it in the words, but my mind's been set aflame.
I came into the throne room seeking a way out from this place, from this world, from whatever universe I was shot into. If you were trying to scare me, remind me of the many reasons why I should abide by your every word, then you've succeeded in that regard. Please, Twilight, if you're reading this, say something.
It's as tall as the ceiling. The hoard, I mean. If I weren't so terribly afraid I'd be swimming through the jewels like they were a bath. But I feel the blood stained to the gold, and want my claws as far away from it as possible. I can see the throne, Twilight, I’m almost there.
I pass the hoard stained with regret, never enough to satisfy the dragon. I step on the glass retelling the tragic story. I ascend to the lonely throne, filled with guilt—please be okay, Twilight Sparkle, please.
I've made it to the throne, dropping that which has been in my claw the whole time, for on the throne itself are more sheets of decaying green color. My claw trembles as I pick up the pages, feeling my eyes moisten as I read the words—the words that wrote themselves.
Twilight? Are you there? Please, Twilight, answer me!
Twilight? Are you there? Please, Twilight, answer me!
Twilight? Are you there? Please, Twilight, answer me!
I look back to my throne room, beyond the hoard comprised of every worldly treasure, over the carpet stained not by dust but the ashes of ponies I incinerated, past the two massive doors to the fading world I allowed to decay. Suddenly, my mind clicks, the paper drops, and the madness returns.
I've learned the reason why you're not reading this, Twi.
