A Dance With The Devil

Second

What’s gotten into Light? she asked. Why does he do this to himself? She stared at the keys.

Twilight Sparkle scanned the lavish lobby of the bank. Gilded walls closed in on her, but they were far apart, making the space massive. Many commonfolk peppered said space, and the aristocrats had their noses high, showing off jewellery of pure gold and diamonds and pearls and rubies.

“I would like to make a withdrawal, please.” She slid the key and withdrawal slip to the cashier. He glanced at it both for a moment.

“Right this way.” She followed him through tight security, tighter than what she expected. The corridor she went through was small, and on her sides was the place of many unknown treasures. She was surprised when he skipped them all, keeping his pace and still moving, the vaults gradually becoming bigger. In truth, she had never seen Light’s safe deposit before, but she did have a place in his signature card.

Her jaw fell when she looked at the size of his safe deposit door. It was massive, the metal lustrous. The banker stuck the key in, turning it, revealing the trove of his treasures. He nodded to her and left.

Twilight had to admit the space was big in there. There was a pile of bits on the corner, but that didn’t catch her eye. There was a tricycle, a kite, some vintage clothes that hung from their hangers, and a picture of him and his parents.

Lightning, sweet Celestia, how much do you pay the bank?

Wait. What was that, behind the clothes? It was dark. Twilight reached in and revealed what was in there. Writing.

The eyes of Death watches always. Go to princess Celestia and show her the suicide letter.

This chamber held many secrets. From the floor to the windows, everything had a meaning, and everything was put there for a reason. It had been planned when Canterlot Castle had been built many years past, in a land and time whole different, but still Equestria. It was weird, the fact of that, but it is true.

He wants to kill himself, she heard herself say, he feels so terrible for what he is.

Princess Celestia looked at the note with concern, furrowing her brow. “How long has he felt like this?” The monarch sat high on her throne, crown and regalia shining, mane flowing. Twilight made a face whilst Luna watched.

“He’s been like this for as long as I met him,” she answered matter-of-factly. “But nopony knows how long he’s been feeling like this.”

The princess nodded silently, eyes glued on the suicide letter. A silence grew between them.

It had been three hours past since he fell into a sleep and when she had found the note he thought would be his last. His last . . . Light always thought like that. So final, in a way. Everything had to be a first and a last and everything in between to him, like he can’t let go of a moment, any moment, in fact. You could punch him in the face and he would hold on to it forever like a good memory to laugh at. And she kind of appreciated that, in a way.

“Did you talk to him after you found out?”

“I didn’t. I tried to wake him up, but that did nothing. He’s quite a heavy sleeper.”

“What happened before all of this?” Luna broke in whilst the older sister read intently.

Oh, boy. “That’s . . . very hard to explain, princess.”

Her brow moved. “Is it one matter personal?”

And this is one of the reasons it’s complicated. “Well . . . not quite exactly.”

“So what is it?”

“I don’t know, princess.” She was nonplussed by the remark. “I’m as confused at this situation as you, in a way. Light talked about this being named Death and—”

“What?!”

“What?!”

The two princess gawked at her like pairs of lummoxes.

Especially Celestia. “This . . . how could he have known she even exists?” And how long could he have known? She is something not even historians and professors know of. Nopony should know of this. There isn’t any record of her in any library anymore and . . .” Perhaps the princess said too much; Twilight gazed at her like a goddess that fell from the heavens. Princess Celestia already knew what that meant, and Luna smacked a hoof on her face.

Her sigh was that of regret. “Perhaps I should take this with a mountain of salt.” She looked at Twilight seriously. “I need your consent that you may never speak of this, dear Twilight. This is a topic as fragile as glass, and it should be taken with care, not lightly, but care. Do you promise not to speak of this with anypony else other than Luna and I?”

Twilight felt like an avalanche hit her. Keeping a secret this important with the princesses? It felt odd, this feeling going through her, resonating from her heart and pumping through her veins and arteries and fueling her soul to unprecedented levels. “I promise,” she said quietly, like a squeak.

The princess smiled warmly. “Good.” She looked at her two guards. “Leave us be,” she commanded. The two left, leaving them alone, shutting the doors.

The princess started her tale at once. “Long ago, before the earliest lords and lands and kingdoms of young and old alike, there was a being that all knew and all feared. A being so final, so irrefutable, a monster so real. She isn’t a monster from our nightmares as fillies, no. She is a whole beast entirely. A beast that existed as long as life itself.” Twilight leaned in to hear when her voice was of a whisper. “That monster is Death. Death . . . a being we all have to face in the end. A being that lives on . . . forever and ever.”

Twilight took a moment to think about that. “Wait . . . so you’re saying that Death . . . Death existed before life itself?”

The princess nodded.

“Is there any other thing he had mentioned of her?” princess Luna asked.

“Kinda, actually. When he was asleep, he murmured a few things I thought was pointless mumbling, but now I think is . . . creepy.”

“What things?”

“One of them was ‘I don’t know; I want both but I don’t know.’ One was ‘The eyes of Death watches always.’ The last was ‘Stop, stop, stop, stop . . .’ It just kept on going.”

The two sisters looked at each other in deep concern.

“Twilight,” Celestia started, “there is a correlation with one of the things you just said and Death.” She paused. “Here’s the thing: the phrase ‘the eyes of Death watches always’ is inscribed on a painting, and we haven’t seen it for four hundred years. The first time it was seen was the last, unfortunately.”

Luna nodded. “Mayhaps I should continue on, sister.” She strode to where Twilight was. “There is a tale, and therein lies the connection between the painting and Death.

“During my banishment and before the songs of creation and before the days of old themselves, there once was a mare named Flaura. Flaura was a mare who loved flowers, oh, yes. Marigolds and roses and lilies and the like, all admired by her like foalhood friends. Once she put them all in a single bouquet, carefully picking the colours to see fit, and she was delighted with herself in her creation. She lived the rest of her days perfecting her creation, again and again to a point where she put it into a painting. The vividness was unlike anything of its time, for she made her own paint, and to this day, nopony could ever make something remotely close to what she did. There was a special feeling when looking at her works.”

“Wait, do ponies even know this painting exists?” Twilight brought up.

“No, Twilight. Nopony but us three know of its existence.”

Luna nodded. “But alas, she did not last. Death is inevitable, no doubt, like my sister said, and something had happened to her that dragged her into the realm of the deceased. My sister invited her to the Grand Temple to present her works to the Equestrian public, and all the sudden the lights went out, and . . . and there she was, standing over Flaura. And she . . .” She smacked her lips. “Albeit thou know how ponies are: stubborn. It seems that even Death has not the power to take the poor mare with her at first; even a wiht harboring powers of great strength like her seem to not overrule some qualities of the living. Impregnable she looked to be, escaping from the jaws of Death like no pony had attempted, like it was easy, and we still don’t know why is that, how she resisted her power.

“Death is a being of ultimate wisdom and power, yes, but that does not mean she hasn’t her limits. Only those who own their minds can read it and understand it in a way others simply can’t. That’s one of the things we know she can’t do: read minds.

“However, notwithstanding all of what Flaura did, she could not fend for herself for ever, and the freedom she once had was rather short-lived. And then Death did something to her . . . something that . . .” Luna shook her head in disgust.

Twilight asked carefully, “What was her punishment?”

Luna looked at her seriously. “It . . . it was . . . it was certainly more terrible than any death I’ve seen.”

The purple alicorn found herself intrigued and terrified for a moment. “What happened to her?”

The Lunar alicorn suppressed a whimper. “Her soul was to haunt the painting forevermore.”

Twilight Sparkle couldn’t believe it. A being of power like that existing and dooming some poor mare into a painting for all eternity? How? How was it possible? How did this Death do something like this? How was this all real? “I . . . I can’t believe this . . .”

“I remember seeing her stand over her and turn her into it,” Celestia said. “I remember her face.” She frowned. “And the painting,” Celestia told with a sigh. “It had been stored into an undisclosed location. Even we don’t know if its whereabouts. I believe it is somewhere near Canterlot, though. But that’s just speculation.”

“There is also the code,” princess Luna said.

“Ah, yes. The code.”

“Wait, there’s a code?” She was bedazzled by the prospect.

“Yes, Twilight. There is a code. Normally, it would say . . . oh, what was it again? It’s been a long time, Twilight, so forgive me if some of this may be fuzzy.”

“Princess, if I may ask, why hasn’t anypony other than us know of this painting?”

The princess looked so scared all of the sudden, glancing around every little niche and corner, as if somepony was watching there. “The ponies who share about it and the ponies they share it to . . . I silenced them and had an agreement. It’s amazing, really, how a secret like this has been held for so long.”

“But . . . but we have to make this right!”

“We’ve thought of that, Twilight Sparkle, we really have,” Luna interrupted, “but you have to understand that it is for the best for the safety of all the other ponies out there.” She breathed, “There are two evils that we needed to choose. And we chose the one that would keep the rest of ponykind oblivious.”

“Spike! Is Light in there?”

Her talk with the princesses was certainly . . . interesting. It was weird to have all of this interesting information, and she could not believe some of it too. She hoped for the better, that she would understand. The dragon looked at her, who was by a door.

“Yeah. He’s in here, sleeping, just like when you left. And he does sleep pretty heavily, actually.” He laughed at that. “Heh, it’s like he’s not actually in there.” He lazily opened the door with his claws, glimpsing inside. His attitude changed fast. “Oh. Um, Twilight, I think I need to re-answer that . . .”

A pentagram, hourglass and circle oozed on the wall, lines of text surrounding it, fading away slightly.

There seemed to be no meaning behind it all, the scribbles on the wall surrounding the shape; everything in it was just a mess. Thou ought find a clue what it means, one said, what all of it means. She found herself reading a few out loud. And Twilight asked in her mind some questions of her own too; many about Light and Auriga and a few about her sanity.

Twilight and Spike sweeped their eyes around the space, searching for his whereabouts, as if he would jump out and say everything would be fine. She kind of hoped for that. Twilight noticed the books scattered on the floor, exposed, pages torn out and covers opened. She leaned in on a few to discover a theme: ancient architecture.

“What do they mean . . . what do they mean . . .” she whispered to the wall. “Where are you?”

“I don’t like the sound of this. This is getting weird,” Spike commented from behind.

“Yeah, Spike.” She looked around the room once more. She pointed at the wall. “But I wonder why this was left here. And how.”

“Some sort of cryptic message? A clue to where he may be?” the dragon suggested.

“Yes, probably, but we’re going to have to find that out if that’s the case,” she said. “Other than the pentagram and hourglass, there’s nothing but writing.” She sighed. Twilight sulked a little.

“Is there something wrong, Twilight?”

She seemed not notice him but shook her head anyway.

“I . . . Don’t take this the wrong way, Spike, but I frankly can’t tell,” Twilight said calmly.

“Why not? Is it top-secret?” he said like a foal, circling both claws in the air and contorting his face.

“You could put it that way. But I want you to know that this is very important. Anypony who knows of it, or even talks to me is in grave danger.” She thought of a preface on how she could explain some of this, but she sewed her lips shut. “Spike, don’t ever talk of this to anypony, you understand?”

The dragon looked concerned, but he relentlessly answered, “Alright, Twilight, if it’s that important.”

“Thanks, Spike, I knew I could trust you. Now let’s look for Lightning Glare.” The worry returned to her face, remembering he was gone. The two began their search once again. Whilst Spike looked around the hallways outside, Twilight checked the window. Brittle pieces were left on the edges, poking out, dangerous. Her head came out of the frame, looking down and seeing a broken chair down on the grass.

Spike left and gone, going around the castle and looking for an infinitesimal clue for him. She idly crossed her legs in the centre of the room, swaying in the moonlight so bright it poured in and casted her long shadow, a mime.

A long darkness graced and moved behind her. It was probably Spike’s.

The atmosphere danced around her, and she wondered of the dance Light’s having with Death. Dust moved around in the scope of the moonlight, shining like the chandelier she was under, in a night that felt forever eternal, shining like specks of gold and diamond. It was strangely quiet, but it wasn’t that strange if she thought of it. Everypony was asleep, but it was still odd.

An idea struck her. “Maybe if I . . .” She shot a beam of magic at it. The pentagram’s lines suddenly changed colours.

★★★★★★★★★

I’m free. I escaped. I’m not there anymore.

Light liked the cushions he sat his haunches on. A dawn’s horizon it was, red and powerful, not forgetting the sweeping of the sun in the sky, cleaning it into a cloth so perfect, paving a way for the moon. It reminded him also of the velveteen rabbit he owned. He’s had it circa a decade in the past, as a gift from Twilight. Even with his coming of age, he possessed it still, an unambiguous reminder of the past. He played with it like a filly would do to a doll, and being older helped not in the way others had perceived it. Weird to have, he knew, but he helped himself not—he couldn’t. He’s my special friend—a friend I’ll hold dear forever.

“Excuse me sir, but would you like some treats?” he heard her say. There was a trolley filled with food and drinks of all kinds, swaying lightly along the rhythm of the moving train.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I hadn’t noticed you. Erm . . . the chocolate bar would be nice. And a milk glass, please.” The steward handed said items, Light giving her the appropriate payment. She gave a smile and a thank you and departed.

He looked at the bar and milk. Then around the train. He focused his sight on the window, looking opposite the train’s direction as clearly as he can. Had Spike and Twilight found out he was gone yet? They must’ve. The pegasus clenched his hoof. He just left them—all of them—without a word. And they were concerned of him, he was sure, even if he cared not of what ought happen to him. He only looked at the consequences in the dilemma he stuck himself in. The lot he knew could think of anything that might’ve happened to him.

He felt selfish.

The appetite left him; Light placed the bar and milk beside him. His gaze found the window once more, but not at where he once was, but where he was going. Canterlot. More specifically, the site by Canterlot . . . The Grand Temple of Hermes, a temple so grand, so tall, so . . . unreal. And he really was going there. He’d read about it before, but he never actually thought he would visit a place like that.

The figure of the peaks could be seen, and perched high amongst them was the castle. The tiny lights of it flickered from the circulation of winds, creating a golden halo around it. That was nothing compared to the lights of Canterlot, which was a flame on top of a torch up high, illuminating the darkness of Equestria and eventually the world.

He made fit nopony was looking at him. Crouched down he did, and rummaged from the bag he “borrowed.” He took the map out, tracing it with a hooftip. She told me the guards would be here, one in each space in between the pillars. She told me that I only have a short amount of time before they come back and ruin everything. Then you can go to the centre and get him back.

Lightning wanted to follow her every order perfectly.

You can’t ruin this; you just can’t. You’ve screwed up many times before, but this time you’ll succeed, you understand me? You have failed yourself so many times before, but you’re not going to let you anxiety get the best of you. Remember what it is; it’s a monster. And if you give it what you want, then all of this will be destined to fail. You can’t let it . . . You just can’t let it . . . But it’s here. It always has and it always will be.

Are you sad? Why are you sad? You’re not sad about him? Why? What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you be normal? Why can’t you think like normal things and just not cry every single time? Why do you have to think like this if it’s all pointless in the end? You know it’s going to be nothing later but . . . no . . . I will care about this later. That’s what that monster is going to do to you . . .

All he could feel was his own four legs carry him through all the noise: ponies saying things, luggages rolling and loading and dropping, the horn of the train blowing into the air. He occasionally bumped on somepony. The pegasus only had his mind to meddle with at the moment.

What has Twilight told you? You’re living the good life: good friends, good house, good job, good everything . . . you haven’t the reason to be this sad for such a long time, even before Auriga’s death. And yet you are. You are sad, but you also feel nothing. A—A . . . absolutely nothing.

“Where to?” The taxi stallion asked politely.

“Grand Temple of Hermes,” he said very calmly.

The taxi cab he remembered not boarding zoomed. Wait, did he actually remember anything before it? I guess it doesn’t matter, he mused, looking back.

It felt like a short ride.

“Fifteen bits.”

He paid the money and he left.

In its opulence, he saw it, and it was much bigger than he anticipated. Sixty meters tall, in all its glory. There were large spotlights that lighted the beast, but the pillars shone so bright he could see it reflect the city on the mountains. The pillars were magically hardened, so the golden exterior was still in the purest form, but the bronze inside helped it lift the massive marble roof of black onyx. Tourists were littered all around, taking pictures of it, whilst some just sat there and feasted it with their own eyes, taking in the large monster of a beast of a temple.

The temple stood on top of a small hill, grand staircases sprouting from different sides, but the temple itself looked more like a mountain compared to the hill beneath.

As he approached it, the pillars towered over him, seeming to grow taller and taller. The breadth was impressive still, like it could swallow the earth and everything beneath it. Light could see flecks of gold particles flicker and cavort, knowing that they came from the pillars themselves. It was myth that gold delivers warmth to the body and soothes it, but for certain it does soothe the soul of one and many.

There was a mare with large-rimmed glasses idly talking to a few. “What time does the temple close?” He asked the docent.

“Very soon, I expect. Only a quarter hour before the guards tell everypony to leave, sir,” answered she.

“Thanks.” Briskly, he snaked through throngs of crowd, arriving at the mouth of the beast and getting swallowed.

Saying the space was opulent would be an understatement. Every surface was a canvas filled with paint and gilded, giving a feeling he’d been transported to another time, another place, another reality. Massive tapestries hung from the walls and ceiling, depicting the gods and stars and goddesses and stories and songs and tales, all of old. There were pillars in here, albeit all were of a shade different, forged with different kinds of marble, aged. Only a few ponies were here—most had gone and left already. The few who remained chatted amongst themselves.

The pegasus saw all the lights dim. He was left scared, and the others too. He hasn’t a doubt they were confused and scared, because he heard a few of them. Out of the nowhere, darkness moved. It just moved around the space, around the ponies, around him. The black was so great he could not see clearly who disappeared. He just shivered there. He heard the barks of guards . . . And they disappeared.

Nopony was here anymore. That he was certain. Or was he? Was he that sure he was alone? The space felt big still, even in the dark. The gods and goddesses in those tapestries watched and . . . What was that? He looked at it closely.

Softly waves moving started to glow in the darkness, a pure, vivid cerise. They pumped light out like a beating of a heart, brighter then dimmer and again and again. More of them illuminated until they all showed.

It also showed her face.

Her mane was of a deep red, but that was nothing compared to her eyes. Her eyes were a whole new thing. So red . . . so vivid . . . so piercing. He stared at them. He only stared at them. The rest of her figure slowly appeared with help from her mane’s light. It was like she was underwater; all the slightest movements were the most graceful thing. Her mane undulated and swam in the air, her coat a dark shade. The only two things that had colouring appeared to be a hat filled with marigolds on the top of her head, sprawling out into a bouquet. Her hair was softly swaying fire as its sheen reflected the light of the night and the peppered speckles of moondust spilled on her mane like the night and the speckles the stars.

The deep whistle of the world was all that could be heard.

“Are you ready?” Her voice was the same as from his dream; soft, young, whispery.

Silence.

“Ready to . . . what?”

She tilted her head, her hair slowly following their beholder. She looked at him for a while, staring through his windows to his soul, like she knew what he wanted, like she knew who he was, like she knew what he thought, like she knew what he’d done.

She breathed ever-so-quietly. “Ready to die?”

He tilted his head in a manner same as what she did, taking all the time in the world to realize what was happening. He, strangely, felt not afraid. Maybe it was because he had already known who she was. Light had known her for his entire life. Death was the first thing he ever took seriously.

Staring into the eyes, he came closer.

“It’s like I’m safe,” he said. “It’s like I’m not afraid of you.” Her blazing irises kept watch. “For the longest time, I always wanted to know what it would be like to stare at death in the face. To know what was happening. To know if it was that daunting.”

Her face unchanged.

“And now . . . know that you ask me that . . . I feel like I already was ready. Ready to leave. Ready to go . . .”

The world quieted down for a minute. She just nodded.

Death spread her massive wings, taking flight up to the ceiling. From up above, he could discern the tiny engraving he’d seen not before. A pentagram in a circle engraved in the marble. Suddenly, it lit up and rotated, spinning around and slowly levitating down. It had a red halo of magic around it when it came and landed with a thud small and light. She went up though it.

She had gone, and he was left there. “Hey, wait!” He flapped his pair own and followed her. The space was short, but it stretched out so far, and it was still filled to the brim. Vast piles of gold and silver and jewellery lined the walls, their sparkles discernible in the shroud of dark. He saw her red mane flow from a distance, and he followed it.

She stopped.

He dared slip beside her to glance what she looked at. A large safe of aged metal stood there. Waiting. She twisted the knob to the appropriate numbers, and after twenty turns, it unlocked. She shifted to the side, pointing inside. Hidden in the corner, he saw something. A gigantic painting. It appeared to be of a bouquet of many flowers, many colours swirling and splashed on the canvas. It looked so beautiful, the swirls of the night sky so realistic and fluid—being the background.

Light carefully removed it with a struggle and placed it on the floor, taking its first seeps of air from a new age. The oil was still perfect, so vibrant it felt like a window into reality. For a painting depicting flowers, of all things, he was wholly impressed. It hovered off the floor with the same, red glow, beside Death, whilst she went down the hole.

In the dark once more, he saw her study the painting, and for a brief moment, the quiet moved through the air, going through everypony in its curtain.

Light saw a zap. And another. Orbiting sparks appeared from the painting, and Death spread her wings once again, bowing down to it. It was the brightest thing he had ever seen, brighter than the sun, brighter than the sky, brighter than the stars. The earth rumbled, and for a second long he thought he was actually going to die. Then it was dark again.

Death turned back to him. Her mane dimmed a tad, and she moved out of the way, as if welcoming him to come. He struggled to see what had happened to the artwork, even with her light. Slow steps he took, trying to figure out the painting’s shape.

Something moved. He was sure not what it was, but it moved. Clumsily, really, like it just woke up and was dizzy after a very long slumber.

It shaked frantically in its place, swaying.

“Damn . . . Fuck me . . .”

That wasn’t Death’s voice. That wasn’t Auriga’s voice. That wasn’t Lightning’s voice.

“W—who are you?” he breathed.

The mare’s voice was confused, with a light accent. “I . . . I do not know . . . I am not sure I exist at all.”

“Y—you must be somepony,” countered Lightning Glare. “You must exist. You’re here right now. Do you have any idea who you are?”

Her silhouette came into full view, a slender figure. “I . . . I clearly know only where I am. The Grand Temple of Hermes—built years ago by the architects.”

“Wait . . . a few years ago? The temple has been standing here for four hundred years.” He was breathless.

“What did you say? Four hundred years? It is not possible! I . . . I was invited here by the princess a few days ago . . . I remember it. She told me to bring the painting so it could be in display, yes, in here, the grand temple. And then everypony disappeared, and . . .” The silhouette was struck with horror. “S—she came.”

Light looked at Death’s place behind the mare to find her gone.

“Is she here? Where is the devil? Is she gone? I need know!”

“Who is she?” queried he with caution.

She whispered, “Death!”

He pointed behind her. “Well, s—she was here a while ago, right there.”

The shadow grabbed him, and he catched a slight glimpse of her face. It was of distress. “We need leave, now. It is not safe here! Come, let us go!” She ushered him to the entrance. The mare slammed on the door and cursed when found locked. “Damn! It is locked!”

“I—I’m getting freaked out. W—what’s going on?”

“I will explain later. We need leave only, and fast!” the mare whispered. She ran off in a jiffy, frantic yet careful.

Lightning just pressed his back on a pillar, his heart skipping a beat. In the veil of night, the paintings and statues and objects many were not seen, but they haunted him—they’ve haunted this place for as long as they’ve been here. They were all alive, but only one could speak.

In the inky vastness, he saw light pour in. The door’s mesh covered window revealed a corridor. The exit sign glowed a deathly green above its lofty place above. He had not noticed it before; it was probably an emergency exit.

“Ah!” He swore his heart exploded from shock when the mare snatched him from his place to run with her.

“Be quiet! She still may be here,” the mare urged. She hauled him all the way to the exit.

The alarms sounded when she smashed the weight of her body on the threshold, a crude way of opening. The compact corridor they went through turned left sharply, barely illuminated. He felt like he was being swallowed through a narrow esophagus of a large beast, drowned in lightlessnes. Deeper and deeper and deeper they went, escaping.

The fields far and wide greeted them, gently embracing by tingling their hooves. The mare looked absolutely exhausted, gestures of pain taking over her body. She breathed heavily and slowly, the sounds going unnoticed.

“Hey, are you alright?” He had no idea who she was, obviously. The mare answered not, still taking her time and breaths. Her mane was a mint green, eyes a light red, coat of beige. She felt small, for she had crouched down. It was if she was a child, young and tired.

“I have not an idea,” she answered suddenly.

“Well,” he started, interrupted by her sigh, “we should, erm, just go. Or maybe I should go and you go and we’ll both go on our ways.” He saw her not listening, merely establishing a glimpse of the structure behind her. She tossed away a wisp of her hair.

“When had they put these lights?”

“I honestly don’t know. Maybe a few years back? Ten years?”

“But I that is not possible! The temple had been made only a years few back! How could they have put said lights if the foundations haven’t even been built?”

Now he was confused. “What? Like I said, the temple had been made four hundred years ago.”

“No! What of you, from the future?”

He would’ve answered, but she looked at something outside his line of sight. He turned to see what it was, and he wished they would have just continued their squabble.

Those eyes, once more, had attracted all of his attention. Her wings stretch upwards, so big that all he could see was the eclipse of the moon. She was a dark figure in the sea of lighter swirls of darkness, the only colour her eyes. He heard her whimper beside him, and for once, he heard the sound of somepony who seemed more afraid of him, more afraid than anyone.

“R—run.”

Those wings flapped downwards, lifting her up. She lingered in the air for a few more seconds before a black aura blasted toward their direction. Lightning swung to the side, the blast missing him. He looked behind him to see she was gone, black scorch marks on the ground.

Light shot back his head to Death, only to feel a burning sensation. He couldn’t even scream.

★★★★★★★★★

Twilight pointed. “In here.”

The three princesses filed in the room silently. The black and coloured junk on the wall was messier than before, but the meaningful was as clear as day.

“Mother of me . . .” Celestia dared near it, as if she couldn’t rely what she was seeing.

“Twilight, do you know what it means?” princess Celestia asked.

“If you look at the four different sides of the pentagram, you would see that the ratios of lengths between them is one is to one point six one eight. It instantly reminded me of the golden ratio, and that’s exactly what it is. But other than that, I don’t know, princess. I’ve been wondering that ever since I found it.” She took a moment. “That’s why I brought you here.”

“Unfortunately, I know not of this,” answered Luna, disappointment in her tone.

They all turned their curious heads to eyeball it. The tar dripped on the wall, creating what looked to be a mere, poor fake of what it had been. Twilight spoke, “What should we do know?”

Princess Luna headed the door. “I need continue my duties, as always. I will be back as quickly as I can.” Without another word, the night’s harbinger passed through the doorway, leaving the two in a fog.

“Come, dear Twilight. I need to talk to you in private.” With that, the princess and she walked an ephemeral. The castle felt odd with royal guards lining the corridors; Twilight had never seen security this tight before. But the seemingly impregnable army before the library doors had her flummoxed. All gave a slight bow when they entered.

The library looked to be raided. Books were littered everywhere, writings of red marker on the crystalline pillars, torn and now blemished scrolls of parchment. It was like a crime scene. The princess gave her a gloomy smile. “We think your friend Lightning Glare had been here whilst we talked in the castle, Twilight. Just don’t touch anything; we may prove useful in another time.”

Twilight saw some of her favourite books on the floor, ruined. She picked one up. Peace & War. One of my favourites. She would’ve turned into a madmare at the sight of her book destroy, but that was not a concern. “What . . . happened to him?”

“Well, Twilight, we’ll try our best, an—”

“No. That’s not what I meant, princess. I mean . . . what did happen to Light?”

She saw not her face, but Twilight could feel the sympathy in it. “It’s okay, Twilight. Like I said, we’ll try our best.”

The purple mare turned. “Try your best at what?”

Celestia’s expression developed to become sullen. There was a beauty in her eyes, filled with sadness, but the princess tried to hide it. “Frankly, Twilight, this is why we’re here. You know your friend Lightning is gone, and I guess you want to find him, no?” The conjecture threw her off.

“I mean . . . you are right, princess. I do want to find him.”

She nodded. “So here’s what I’m going to say: you are to remain here and not participate in anything related to this unless asked. You will not speak with this to your friends or family or anyone. Do you understand, Twilight?”

By some means, Twilight wanted to say no—that there must be some other way. But she knew Celestia was right. She slowly nodded acquiescently her head in consent. The princess’ expression, sudden as the rise of the sun, softened. “I’m really sorry, Twilight. I really am. It must be hard for you, especially in a fashion like this. Remember that we will try our very best to find out what happened to him. And—”

A sonorous slam of doors pierced the still air. Princess Luna had overt discomfort on her expression. And concern too, it looked. She was breathing deeply. “It is worse than I thought.”

“Why? What is the matter, Luna?”

“The dream realm . . . it . . . it is broken. Somepony teared through its indestructible veil, and they have not an intention to be found.”

“But how? Isn’t the dream realm only accessible through you?” said Twilight, bemused wholly.

“No, it looks like. Now it seems as if they managed it hastily and enfeebled it. Drastically.” She looked straight at her sister. “The dream realm may forever be broken if it receives much damage.”

“Death,” Celestia uttered, “it can only be her. It has to be.”

“What did you see, Luna?” Twilight came closer.

“It appears as if a certain dream has been infiltrated. The entirety of all of the dreams have been disturbed too; it is utter chaos, I say, chaos! I tried to enter said dream, but I couldn’t. It had been blocked off.”

The solar alicorn was muttering to herself, a hoof on her chin, whilst Luna eyed her with scared eyes. “Check it out, Luna. Make sure she doesn’t disturb the rest. She can escape to the real world once more if we’re not careful.”

“Wait! Can I join?” Twilight begged.

“No, Twilight. That is not an option,” Celestia pressed.

“But you wanted me to know what happened to him, right? If he’s even there? This is the perfect opportunity—the perfect chance to at least know! I know it’s dangerous, but I really need to know what happened, princess. Think about it—Death wouldn’t do this for no reason—nopony would” She put a hoof on her closed eyes. “I need to know what happened to my Light . . . my light.”

The three were phantom-quiet. No one said a word, mindlessly taking note of their surroundings instead of each other. She broke the silence. “Twilight, you are right. You have the right to know what happened to him and in a way you want to. But please stay safe. Promise me that.” The one who rose the sun, who rose the light of the world telling her this gave her a sense of freedom. Twilight nodded solemnly.

“I will, princess. You can count on me.”

The lunar alicorn stepped to the centre of the two, and her horn lighted. The darkness swallowed everything around them, and for a brief moment, Twilight saw a sad smile of her teacher, and she got swallowed, too. Eventually, she would be well into the realm of dreams and nightmares.