Songbird

Chapters

Depths
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
The First Night

Depths

What was I thinking?

There’s nothing down there!

Go back. Go back. Go back!

No! She swam. Down. Into the depths. Into the darkness. Her frantic heartbeats would not dissuade her!

“You’re pathetic, Celestia. Look at you, running away from your problems. You should be facing them, facing me. But no, you’d rather risk everything on some nonsense feeling that everything will go right if you just take the path that makes no sense!”

Gritting her teeth, she ignored the taunting. She had to go deeper. Even as her heart pounded, it sang for that which called for it. Her destination needed her as much as she needed it! She didn’t think about her tormentor, would not succumb to the strain in her lungs. Her every ounce of dwindling energy would be spent on the goal, as mysterious as it was.

“What goal? Death? Will you be a martyr? That’s just like you, to try to make yourself out to be so special!”

The voice… it was changing. Lighter, but still with a hard edge to it. Young.

Familiar.

“What will all your precious ponies do when they find out you killed yourself over—" an emotion, a niggling feeling that you just couldn’t ignore?

It was more than that. It had to be! Though her lungs began to burn, Celestia refused to acknowledge her need for air. There were things far more important. It was within reach, it had to be!

You will never know, because you’re going to get yourself killed. Drowned like a stupid rat! Is that all you are, Celestia? Vermin too dumb to know when to head for shore?

If only she could identify that voice…

Why do you keep swimming? Why? Do you not want to live?

Of course she did. But she had responsibilities. She had to find it. She had to ignore the fire in her lungs. Keep swimming. Down. Deeper. Farther. It was there, she knew it!

You don’t even know what it is! What if it’s nothing? And who are you to speak of responsibilities? You had a responsibility, and you blew it! But it never occurred to you that the great and wise Celestia could fail, did it?

She… could fail. She’d failed before. It might happen again. Here. Now. But she was so close!

It will. I can feel your lungs. They’re going to burst soon. You will die if you don’t turn back now. Turn back, Celestia. Turn back and admit your failure!

No. She’d never turn back. Not to that. Never to that! Her mind begged for air, but she kept going deeper. Even if she failed.

Even if she died.

And you will. You’re going to die. And for what? You’re worthless.

By the Gods, her chest could take no more! The air burst from her mouth, bubbles swirling before her eyes on their way to freedom. Her heart throbbed as black water invaded her throat. She kicked and fought and kept going down, down, down before it was too late!

Far too late.

She’d never make it back to the surface.

I can get you back. Let me save you.

Her head and her lungs agreed. They screamed at her for mercy, for pity, working to lock her thrashing limbs.

She would not yield! This was ending on her terms.

You… You stupid pony! Will you not accept my help even for this?

Temptation gnawed at her, but she slapped it down with another thrust of her trembling wings. Its help could only lead to lies. Even if she never reached the truth…

Truth? You want truth? You’re a stupid bitch, and you’re going to die! How’s that for truth?

Her body concurred. She ached all over. Every beat of her wings was a struggle, a desperate fight. Her legs felt like they were pushing against molasses. Down. More. Just a little more! Surely. Her body couldn’t fail her now!

Nopony will remember you. Nopony will care. And why should they?

A little more…

I hate you.

The darkness was growing. Just a little more…

You deserve it.

Keep swimming…

I can still save you. Just give up.

Down…

Give up.

She really was going to die.

Give up.

But she would never go back.

Give up!

One more stroke. One more kick.

Please, give up!

The world twisted.

Chapter I

All throughout the valley, the enemy fled as though the hound of Tartarus himself descended upon them. Like a blanket of mesmerizing colors, Equestria’s armies spread across the valley. The ponies’ cheers of jubilation confirmed to Celestia the bittersweet fact: the war had ended.

She landed atop an outcropping of rock, taking in the sight of her defeated foe. The once-mighty-and-terrible Queen Chrysalis lay in a crumpled heap. Her misshapen horn smoked from the magic she’d expended in combat. The image clawed at Celestia’s heart, as much for the knowledge that she was responsible for the pitiful state of her foe as it was that Chrysalis had forced her to this action.

Legs trembling, Chrysalis fought to stand. Her stomach barely escaped the ground before her hooves lost traction and she fell once more, the abrupt motion making Celestia flinch. Gritting her teeth, she set her legs to try again.

“Enough, Chrysalis. The battle is over.” Celestia placed a gold-shod hoof upon her shoulder.

Jaws snapped, nearly catching her hoof, but she jerked it back just in time. “The battle is not over,” Chrysalis snarled through her fangs.

A pang ran through Celestia at the wretched sight before her. “Chrysalis, please. If you continue like this, you will die.”

Chrysalis lunged, or at least tried to. Celestia looked on in pity as the queen fell back to her barrel with a grunt and a grimace. Even so, she spoke with fierce conviction. “Don’t act as though you care about my people! If you knew anything about us, then you’d understand why we always will be enemies.” With some effort, she managed to pull herself to her knees.

Chrysalis took a few gasping breaths. Slowly, she composed herself, her lips forming a thin, emotionless line in spite of the fire still in her eyes. Though injured and kneeling at the princess’s hooves, she managed to pull off an imperious, commanding poise. Her piercing gaze met Celestia’s.

“I won’t surrender. You’ll have to kill me.”

“Is that what you think of us?” Celestia sighed and shook her head. “I will not. Your death serves no purpose. We can live at peace if you would listen to reason.”

“Live as puppets, no doubt.” Chrysalis sniffed derisively and turned her face away. “I will not bow to your whim. You will end me, Celestia, or I will be seeing you again. The manner of that meeting will be much different, that I promise.”

Celestia frowned. What could drive the changeling queen to say such ridiculous things? The words were nonsense. Unless... “Do you hate us so much? We only want to help.”

“Help?” Chrysalis laughed, a hollow sound. “You would force your ‘help’ down our throats. We never asked for help.”

Celestia looked out over her army. As bright as any Cloudsdale rainbowfall, it spread beneath her like an ocean of colors. To the west, the last remnants of the changeling horde faded over the horizon as if they were shadows of night escaping the sunrise. Her eyes fell upon the valley once more. So many ponies. How many changeling bodies underneath?

Forcing her expression to harden, Celestia stiffened her shoulders and offered her hoof to Chrysalis once more. “No. We can be at peace. Equestria can help you rebuild.”

Chrysalis glared at the hoof as though it hid a dagger. “You, help us rebuild? You can’t even care for your own ponies, and you would try to care for us?”

Celestia pulled her hoof back slowly, furrowing her brow as she thought. She considered Chrysalis’s snarling visage. “Equestria is one of the most peaceful, developed, harmonious—”

“You can’t honestly tell me you are so ignorant!” Chrysalis jerked to her hooves. This time she held herself up, though her knees wobbled from the effort. She aimed a toothy grimace at Celestia, making the princess take a tentative step back.

At the motion, Chrysalis only seemed to grow more ferocious, her snarl driving Celestia a little further away. “You don’t pay any attention at all, do you? Your world, your ponies are wasting away. They linger in darkness, begging for you to save them, shivering in the cold under the icy glare of a pale moon. But you don’t notice any of that, do you?”

Celestia blinked a few times, her jaw hanging loose. “What are you talking about?”

“You really don’t!” Chrysalis stamped her hoof and bared her fangs. “It’s this level of ignorance that convinced me Equestria would be easy pickings. Have you any idea where you are? Or would you prefer to stay in a world of yes mares, sycophants and mindless worshippers?”

The sun seemed to throb in the sky, its motion matching the sudden, pulsing flame in Celestia’s chest. With horn glowing, she narrowed her eyes. “Take care with your words, changeling. It sounds dangerously as though you are insulting my friends.”

Another huffing laugh from the queen. “Friends? You have no friends.”

“Enough!” Celestia’s aura wrapped about Chrysalis’s muzzle, clamping it closed. She offered no resistance. “It is clear to me that you won’t consider my offer of peace. So be it. For your arrogance and bigotry, I hereby sentence you and your kind to exile in the Western Badlands. Make no attempt to return, Chrysalis, or I will deliver upon you the full wrath of Equestria.”

The monarchs held one another’s gazes, Celestia determined to show her conviction and Chrysalis with a scowl upon her lips. Slowly, the yellow aura faded from her muzzle. The changeling queen stepped back, then turned away. “You are as guilty of willful ignorance. Remember that for our reunion.”

With that, she launched from the outcropping. Her wings buzzing, she struggled to remain aloft as she flew west at a sluggish pace. Celestia watched her carefully, pondering the parting words. But the threat was over. Perhaps they were only the angry words of a defeated spirit, seeking to claim one tiny victory. She would let Chrysalis have it. Goddess knew she was hurting enough after this defeat.

So many changelings… The cold claw of guilt clutched at Celestia’s heart. What I did, I did for the protection of my subjects. The thought sounded hollow in her head.

As Chrysalis’s form became little more than a dot on the horizon, the Equestrians below raised their voices in cheer and praise for the Sun. Celestia looked upon them at last, standing tall over the valley. Every single pony, mare and stallion, fell to their knees and bowed before her. The Princess of Equestria smiled. It lasted only until a biting heat made itself known to her back. There came the crash of hooves on rock and the crackle of flame. Holding in a groan, she turned around. “Greetings, Mother.”

The alicorn’s dragon bone armor scraped loudly to accentuate her fearsome appearance. Already nearly Celestia’s height without the armor, she had the look of a giant bred for battle. The ethereal flames of her mane and tail waved as though in the midst of a storm. Her pale red face, half-hidden behind a visor made of teeth, turned to examine the distant horizon where Chrysalis and her remaining followers had disappeared. Her breastplate, made from a dragon’s talon, appeared to clench around her shoulders with every heavy breath.

“You let her go.” Her words, though quiet, contained as much fire as her mane.

“It was never my intention to kill her.” Celestia stood tall in the face of her mother’s scowl, now aimed her way. “We cannot simply kill their queen every time they rise against us. It serves no purpose.”

Those pink eyes narrowed. Celestia refused to let her know how much they stung. Steam rose from her mother’s mouth with every breath. “When you told me you intended to do things differently from your father and me, this is not what I hoped for.”

At that, Celestia could only smile. “You don’t know how good that is to hear.”

Her mother bowed and shook her head. When it came back up, the flames of her mane and tail had calmed and there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. “You are your father’s daughter, Celestia. I don’t approve, but I suppose it is no longer my decision to make.”

“I appreciate your patience.” Celestia approached, pressing against her armored shoulder and somehow not shuddering at the feeling of bone against her coat. “The war is over. That’s enough isn’t it?”

“And when Chrysalis returns with another army?” her mother asked, not so much as budging at the display of affection.

“Then perhaps she’ll remember this day and be more open to negotiation.”

A moment of quiet passed between them, but at last she felt her mother relax. After pulling off her tooth-decorated helmet, she softly nuzzled Celestia’s neck. “I hope you are right. And if not, I’ll still be here to give that overgrown bug a proper kick in the flank. In fact, I reserve the right. It’ll be fun! You, me, Chrysalis, swords and spears and fireballs. A proper mares’ night out.”

Celestia wasn’t sure whether to giggle at her mother’s jovial tone or lecture the mare for her violent intentions. Knowing the latter would amount to nothing, she settled for the former. Separating from her, Celestia nodded. “Very well. If Chrysalis decides to come back for war, I’ll let you handle her.” She frowned before hurrying to add, “You will give us a chance to determine her intentions before launching an attack, won’t you?”

“Always with the stipulations,” her mother groaned, rolling her eyes. “You nag almost as well as your father, you know that?”

The sound of flapping wings and somebody landing nearby interrupted Celestia’s rebuttal. The two turned to find a trio of griffons bowing before them. Representatives of the token force supporting Equestria, they bore heavy armor that no pegasus could lift, slate grey and rattling. The one in the lead, her feathers bright blue and the fur of her head brown, rose and smiled. Her armor did little to mask the black ring of feathers and fur where the two met. “A battle well fought is a battle well lived, as we say back home.”

“Dobriy den’, Ambassador Sposoba.” Celestia approached, raising her hoof so that Dova could bump it with her fist. “I hope the squadrons King Grover sent us didn’t suffer many casualties.”

“A few. Maybe half? But that’s what griffons live for,” Dova replied pleasantly. “We are only proud of their service. Congratulations are in order, I believe.”

It took some effort not to frown at Dova’s seemingly casual dismissal of the lives lost, but Celestia managed it. “I suppose so. The battle is won and we can go back to our peaceful lives.”

Dova scoffed, her feathers ruffling as she clawed the stones beneath them. “Yes, back to living in mansions, listening to stuffy nobles argue over trivialities, and doing mountains of paperwork. Excuse me for not leaping for joy.”

Celestia’s mother appeared next to her, grinning from ear to ear. “Not so fast, Ambassador! I’m holding a proper feast in honor of my daughter’s victory and wouldn’t dream of leaving you out. Why not help me? I’d love to experience some of Grypha’s brand of merriment.”

The griffons’ eyes lit up in unison, and Dova laughed raucously. “Now that’s what I like to hear! I’ll take you up on that offer, Your Majesty, and see if an alicorn can outdrink a griffon.”

Listening to all of this, Celestia barely kept her smile in place. How could they rejoice? She turned her eyes to the valley below, where already the Equestrian Army was hard at work cleaning up the bloody mess of war. So many ponies not coming home to their mothers, to say nothing of the changelings who had died for nothing.

“Don’t let them get to you.” The voice was aged, but strong. “The griffons have a strange culture.”

At Celestia’s side stood Starswirl, his now-famed cloak and hat singed from what she could only assume was some fended-off magical assault. His long beard was grey with dust and dirt from a few days’ hard fighting. She smiled at his wrinkled face. “It is good to know at least someone shares my feelings on the matter.”

“Somewhat.” He eyed her mother and Dova, eyebrows raised in an expression of deadpan annoyance. “Griffons will be griffons, and your mother is more like a griffon than most ponies.”

“Mother wouldn’t resort to assassination.” Putting the unpleasant topic away, Celestia turned her attention to more pressing matters. “Have we a tally? Were the losses grave?”

Starswirl shook his head before spitting on the ground. “Not at all. Changelings can’t fight for shit, that’s why they usually resort to deception and disguise. The griffons lost so many only because of their reckless tactics. Chrysalis must have been insane to attempt a direct confrontation like that. Or stupid.” He peered at the nearby griffons, rubbing a hoof through his beard as he did. “Speaking of, we should start scanning.”

Following his gaze showed nothing out of the ordinary… for griffons. They were all laughing, apparently at something her mother had said. “Scanning?”

“For changelings, what else?” Starswirl grimaced and cast a long, unpleasant look at the army below. “We don’t know that all the changelings retreated. Odds are good some have infiltrated our forces during the battle. We’ll need to start checking civilians, too. I’ve already issued orders for the army.”

“Absolutely not!” Celestia met his look with a glare. “The army I can understand, but we will not put the citizens of Equestria through that. At best it will lead to paranoia, at worst a witch hunt.”

Her mother poked her head between them, eyes alight with humor and mane crackling with energy. “What’s this about witches?”

Starswirl waved a hoof at Celestia. “Your daughter seems to find the prudent effort of identifying changelings amongst the civilian population in poor taste.” He cast his glower at the nearby griffons. “I hope she’ll at least let us scan the more obvious threats.”

“Good old Swirly, always fretting.” Celestia’s mother shoved his hat down over his face, grinning. “You should relax a little, let your beard down. We just won a war, for my sake!”

“Thank you, Mother.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” A bone-armored hoof waggled in front of her muzzle. “We’ll have to have a serious discussion about it later, and we still have to scan the ponies in the army. Hey, Swirly, why don’t you get that started so me and Dova can get to drinking sooner rather than later?”

Pushing his hat back into place with a growl, he replied with a dour “At least we can agree on that much. Ladies.” He gave a quick bow before turning around and marching off, grumbling under his breath.

Celestia watched him go, glad for his persistence. She might not like his proposal, but his diligence in the safeguarding of Equestria was always welcome. Still, it would be nice to have him back in his laboratory. That stallion won’t be happy until he’s pressing the boundaries of magic again. Soon, old friend. Soon.

Soon? Why did it feel as though there was something wrong with that concept? Starswirl belonged in a lab, that much was obvious. And yet the thought of him going back to that tower in Canterlot Castle left her feeling… unease, like a shadow loomed over her. Were she the superstitious type, she might think she was having a premonition.

Dova’s voice interrupted her train of thought. “Is something wrong, Celestia?”

She turned to find her mother and the Ambassador watching her with matching expressions of concern, or as matching as a griffon and an alicorn could achieve. “Wrong? No. It was just a feeling.”

Her mother cocked her head, then looked to the retreating form of Starswirl. “He’s a little old for you, isn’t he?” She paused, brow furrowing. “Or too young? Mortals are strange like that.”

Another peculiarity struck Celestia as she observed her mother and Dova standing side by side. It looked… odd. Abnormal. She tried to get a hoof on why. Was it her mother’s unusual armor? The size difference? She wasn’t sure, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. It was as if some deep part of her thought it wrong for Dova and her mother to ever be seen together.

“You look troubled, Your Highness.” Dova ruffled her feathers in clear agitation. “I apologize if our behavior seems uncivilized to you, but is it because of the losses?”

“Probably.” Celestia’s mother approached, worry painted across her features. She gave Celestia a nuzzle on the cheek. “Look, you’ve done what you needed to do. Why don’t you head back to Canterlot, spread the good news. Your father will appreciate it, and you can get away from all… this.” She waved a hoof over the valley.

The suggestion had its appeal, but Celestia hesitated. “But what of this celebration of yours? Wouldn’t it be appropriate for me to make an appearance?”

Her mother swelled up to her full size and spoke with bombastic pride. “And celebrate the death of your foes in glorious, gory battle while drinking the finest wines in a toast to your fallen soldiers! Revel in the victory, tell stories of battles of long past, flirt with the hunky studs in armor, and offer up cheers for battles yet to come!” With a raised eyebrow and an expectant frown, she asked, “Does that sound very fun to you?”

Celestia sighed. “No, though I’m sure it does to you.”

“Exactly, my point has been made.” Her mother smiled in that soft manner she so rarely offered. “Go home, Celestia. Relax in your own way. I’ll take care of the rest. I may be retired from rule, but that doesn’t mean I can’t handle a few duties now and then.”

“Like defending Equestria’s honor in a drinking game,” Dova added with a sly grin.

“Yes, like that.”

Smiling at the two of them, Celestia found her willpower fading fast. “Oh, alright. Since you twisted my wing over it.”

“Good. Give your father my love, and assure him I won’t be enjoying any of the young delicacies that’ll surely be on display tonight.” She turned to leave, but stopped with wings half-opened. “Oh, and Celestia?”

Looking up, Celestia was met with that warm smile once more. “Yes, Mother?”

“I’m very proud of what you achieved today.”

Her heart swelled, rising in her chest as the griffons and her mother rose into the air on beating wings. The strange and inexplicable concerns faded from her mind at the pleasure that simple statement brought her. The worries of the last few hours didn’t seem so burdensome anymore, and it was with light hooves that she turned for home. She let the feeling buoy her spirits as her wings carried her from the valley.

It was only a few short hours from sundown when Celestia began her approach of the Lonely Mountain. Her ears perked to the sound of cheers in the city of Canterlot, signaling that her return home had been noted. A flash of color filled the air in a brilliant eruption, followed by another, and another. Fireworks, aimed so as to not impede her progress.
The colorful lights were reflected in Canterlot Castle’s polished surfaces, bathing the majestic towers and bridges in rainbow hues. The sight brought a fresh smile to her lips. It seemed everypony was eager to celebrate. And why not? The war was over. Better to celebrate peace than death. The thought made her shiver, and she did her best not to think of the revelry going on back at the valley just then.

She aimed her descent for the castle gardens, landing lightly among the great trees and flowers that remained brilliant even this late in the day. She had barely folded her wings before noting a figure emerging from the castle out the corner of her eye. Distance made it hard to identify, but when she turned her head to get a closer look, the pony disappeared. The sight, or lack thereof, filled her with a renewed warmth.

Approaching the place where her father disappeared, she turned her head away. Once again, he came into being in the corner of her eye, now much closer. He was a midnight blue stallion with a mane the green of the sea, which swirled in an endless current like water. He gazed upon her with bright eyes that seemed to glimmer with their own light, but it was his warm smile that melted her heart. Once close enough, she turned her gaze forward and pressed against him, their necks intertwining tightly. “Father. It is good to see you.”

She stepped back to take in her father, but could not. When she tried looking upon him, all she could make out was… an outline? A shadow? A mirage like those formed from rippling heat off a brick road? Celestia still hadn’t discovered an appropriate description. She smiled and shrugged. “Not that I can.” She shifted her head until he was again in the corner of her eyes, and suddenly he was as solid and real as any pony she knew.

He examined her closely, perhaps in search of signs of injury. “Not so good as it is for me to see you, child. You appear unharmed. I take it this means good news?”

“The battle, and the war, is won. And yet…” Celestia’s smile disappeared like a blown-out candle flame as she turned her face to him, reducing her father to a trick of the light once more. “I failed, Father. I thought Chrysalis would see reason after this, but…” She bowed her head, eyes on the grass. “All those changelings. It shouldn’t be necessary. If only she would have accepted my offer. Now she’ll be back, and more changelings will die, all because I wasn’t good enough.”

He said nothing for a time. But then his hoof touched her chin. It raised her head up, and while she could not really see his face, she knew he was looking in her eyes. For once in her life, her inability to see his expression acted as a boon; to imagine his disappointment was bad enough.

And yet his voice came out as gentle as a breeze. “Celestia, my dear daughter. Please, do not blame yourself. The changelings have always been averse to Harmony, and Chrysalis is aggressive even by their standards. As much as it pains me to admit it, I do not believe any pony, no matter how skilled a negotiator they may be, could reach that poor creature.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Not even you?”

“Not even me.”

In truth, Celestia doubted his claim. Her father could negotiate with any creature and come out with a peaceful resolution. She’d longed for his aid in talking with Chrysalis before the war, but he didn’t retire just so she could call him back to work every time something like this happened. She had to learn.

She’d failed in her duty to Harmony, but perhaps she could learn from this. “Chrysalis will be back. That’s what Mother said. She was right, wasn’t she?”

The shift in the ether was familiar enough to be recognized as a nod. “Yes.”

At that, Celestia raised her head high and squared her shoulders. “Next time. Next time, I will find a way to make her see reason.”

A bit of merriment entered his voice. “That’s my girl. It’s a problem to be resolved at another time.” He turned so they were side by side, his face once again clear in her vision thanks to the angle. The tension left her shoulders at his smile, and the feel of his wing on her back eased a weight she hadn’t noticed before. “For now, relax! Take pride in knowing you have led Equestria to peace. We should enjoy this time to the fullest.”

With a warmth in her heart, Celestia nuzzled him beneath his chin. “Thank you. Somehow you always know just what I need to hear.”

“What kind of father would I be otherwise?” He chuckled and guided her to the door. “I take it your mother remained behind to celebrate the glorious victory?”

“Something like that.” Celestia let her eye roll explain her opinion on the matter. “She sends her love, and promises not to get too frisky with the soldiers.”

“That’s your mother, ever the party animal.” His grin broadened as he looked to the fireworks still erupting overhead. “How about we forget about that for now and focus on enjoying the festivities? You’ve earned some relaxation.”

Leaning heavily against him, Celestia delighted in the feel of his wing wrapping about her withers. For the moment, she didn’t have to think about how many changelings had died today, or keeping an eye on Starswirl to keep him from overstepping his bounds. “I would like that very much.”

Tomorrow. She could fret over Chrysalis’s eventual return tomorrow.

Celestia stepped out of the bath, taking the time to stretch languorously and moaning as the last taut joints popped. The final hours of her day had been spent indulging her ponies' impromptu festivities. This included at least five servings of food, not counting desserts. At least it hadn’t been raucous; she was reasonably certain her mother and Dova would be at it until dawn.

Celestia certainly had fun, thanks in no small part to the encouragement of her father. Enough fun, in fact, that she began to wonder when the ball would drop. In the past two centuries, any time she allowed herself to relax and be carefree, something would come along to remind her that such things weren’t for her. As she dried off, her mind went over all the possible issues. There was… was…

She stared at herself in the mirror, half her face hidden behind the motionless towel. Slowly, her eyes widened. Nothing. She could think of nothing. But… there had to be something, hadn’t there? What was she forgetting?

She stared at the pale walls. Her heart rate rose with every slow breath. She felt… something. As though an inexplicably foul presence was worming its way through her head. A warning? Perhaps a warning, but a warning from what? Her eyes darted about the room, seeking answers that refused to appear. She needed… needed to...

Celestia threw her towel aside and hurried out the door and into her chambers. They were spacious. Too spacious. Why had she never realized how big this room was? It seemed downright silly for one mare to have so much room to herself. Too big, far too big, it was—

She shook herself, and the moment of panic faded like water drying off. Through the window she saw the sun on the horizon, beckoning for her to lower it. The world was peaceful, disturbed only by a padding sound. It was so quiet, it took a moment to recognize the sound as hoofsteps on carpet. She turned to find somepony lighting the candles in her room.

“Oh, you’re out,” said Twilight Sparkle, offering a warm smile. “I was going to knock on the door and remind you of the time, but figured you’d earned a bit of relaxation. So what if the day lasts a few minutes longer, right?”

“Twilight? What are you—?” She shook her head with a sigh. “I can light my own candles, you know.”

Her prized student ducked her head with a sheepish smile. “Yes, but I wanted to see you. I mean, you’ve been gone for over a week. I...” Pink invaded her cheeks as she averted her eyes. “I missed you.”

“Oh, Twilight.” Celestia pulled her closer with a wing, pressing her to her side. She gave her a light nuzzle. “It wasn’t all that long, really.”

“It was very long,” Twilight corrected. “I had to spend every night chewing my hooves, wondering if you were going to come back whole. Or at all.”

Celestia took a moment to study Twilight. She saw bags beneath those young eyes, which pierced her with more force than any dozen of Chrysalis’s war spells combined. An image swam into her mind of Twilight staring out her window, watching the skies with a hoof between her teeth, waiting for news. How frightened she must have been.

Celestia squeezed Twilight with her wing, smiling at her student’s contented sigh. “I apologize for worrying you. But it’s over now, Equestria is at peace. And—” she bopped Twilight on the muzzle “—we can get back to our lessons.”

“Oh, yes!” Twilight all but bounced back, her face rivaling the sun for sheer brightness. “I can’t wait to show you, I’ve been doing a research paper on magical ethics involving Starswirl and the zebra alchemist Preferential. I’m very interested to hear your thoughts on how the latter descr—”

“I’m sure your findings are very interesting,” Celestia said before her overeager student could turn blue in the face from a lack of oxygen. “But I am afraid two things hinder your progress. First, I still need to lower the sun.”

Twilight blinked, mouth hanging open mid-word. Her eyes flicked to the window and back before the pink invaded her face once more. “Oh. Right. Of course. Better get to that. Sorry!” She bowed her head a few times with a smile.

“And, to be honest, I have had a… tiring day.” A yawn struck Celestia at that very moment, emphasizing her point. “But I promise, tomorrow I will devote all of my free time to you, and only you.”

Twilight’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Absolutely.” Celestia grinned at her student before turning to the window.

“Oh, thank you, Princess! Thank you so much!”

Chuckling at her foal-like enthusiasm, Celestia paused on the balcony and turned her gaze to the sun. Her magic called out to the great orb, and it responded with its pleasant, warm music. Something felt odd, however. Celestia couldn’t place her hoof on it, but the Song of the Sun didn’t have its usual… usual what? She frowned, eyeing the heavenly orb with mild curiosity. It was almost like it was disinterested in the connection they shared.

Nevertheless, it answered her call. Within seconds, the sun had dropped below the horizon, painting the sky in beautiful oranges and reds. The light glimmered off the spires and bridges of Canterlot before fading away to the cool violet of twilight. Celestia let her hold on the sun linger, still puzzling over what seemed so wrong about it. But she could delay no more; the sun disappeared, and the night began. Celestia sighed and released her grip. Maybe it was just her weariness catching up with her. Leading armies, battling changeling queens, and then to follow that up with a party?

Twilight was at her side, gazing out at the darkness. “Beautiful as always.”

“Yes, beautiful.” Celestia started to smile… and then she heard something. It was birdsong, but not like any typical birdsong. It was more melodious, more… constructed. It sounded less random than what she would normally associate with a bird. She craned her neck to gaze at the gardens just beneath her balcony. What she saw made her smile. “Of course.”

It was a Seashore Nightingale. The bird was resplendent, its feathers the dark purple of that same twilit sky, and glittering as though sprinkled with stardust. Larger than its local brethren, it bounced about on a tree limb as if it were dancing, its wings flapping exuberantly. After a few seconds, the bird launched into the air, followed by a glimmering trail of sparkles that descended like falling stars.

The nightingale alighted upon the balcony railing, not four feet from where Celestia stood, and continued its playful song. She listened intently, her ears steadily perking. It was said that the Seashore Nightingale’s music took one back to the ocean. True to the legend, Celestia found herself envisioning the beach.

And suddenly, she was there. She stood upon the shore, hooves sinking into soft sand. The waves lapped in a gentle rhythm, and before her, as far as the eye could see, lay the ocean. She gazed upon it, the nightingale’s song ever in her ears. It was a beautiful sight, but also…

Celestia’s breath hitched. Something pressed against her mind. A threat? A warning? A plea? She could not tell. Whatever it was, it held her heart in a soft grip. Why? If she didn’t know better, she’d think the bird’s song was calling to her, encouraging her. Encouraging her to do what? Something happened today. With the battle, with her mother, with Dova. Many more somethings. But when she thought back, the specifics blurred and twisted. Try as she might, Celestia couldn’t recall the source of her sudden unease. But when she looked at that nightingale...

“Go on, shoo! Leave the princess alone.”

The spell ended. Celestia was back on her balcony, watching as the nightingale fled Twilight’s waving hooves. Regaining her bearings, Celestia watched the bird disappear into the garden.

“Sorry,” Twilight hurried to say. “I didn’t know they’d imported a nightingale. It’s a surprisingly assertive bird, isn’t it?”

She looked down at her student, her mind abruptly void of thoughts. It took several seconds for her to squeeze one out, and she felt compelled to give it a voice. “You didn’t have to frighten it off.”

Twilight flinched, her ears folding back as she chewed her lip. “I know. But you were looking at it, and you seemed so sad. I just wanted to help.”

Sad? Had she felt sad? Celestia couldn’t recall. But now that the moment had passed, she was reminded of her earlier thoughts. She looked to the night once more, a soft frown on her lips. “Twilight… has anything bad happened lately?”

“Bad?” Twilight’s brow furrowed. “Um, not really. Were you expecting something to happen?”

“No, I just… have a feeling. A feeling as if I’m missing something important.”

“I see.” Twilight rubbed the side of her head with a thoughtful expression. “I can’t imagine what that would be. Maybe you’re just tired?”

“Maybe.” Feeling a little more at ease, Celestia turned from the balcony and returned to her room. “Perhaps things will be clarified in the morning.”

“That’s the spirit!” Twilight all but bounced after her, grinning from ear to ear. Celestia was tempted to ask why her student was acting half her age, but chose not to dwell on it. She was probably just thrilled the war was over.

“Everything’s perfect now,” Twilight insisted. “Or it will be the moment we get back to my studies!”

Yep, there it was. Celestia smirked and turned to her student. “That may be, but those studies are waiting for tomorrow.”

“Of course.” Twilight beamed up at her… and didn’t move.

An eyebrow arose. “I intend to go to sleep now, Twilight.”

“Well, yes.” Her student’s expectant expression didn’t fade. She appeared almost hopeful.

Celestia stared at her blankly. “You may leave now.”

“Hmm?” Twilight seemed to be processing the suggestion. Then she flinched and tried to put on a reassuring smile, but her folded ears betrayed her. “Oh, r-right. I mean… right. If you’ll excuse me then, I’ll just, uh, go. Good night, Princess.”

“Good night, Twilight.”

Celestia watched her walk away, pondering her student’s sagging shoulders and sudden loss of energy. The pony was outright dragging her hooves. She understood Twilight was excited about learning, but this seemed a little much.

Yet, as the door closed softly, Celestia shook her worries away. She was just imagining things. There was nothing wrong, nothing at all. She would sleep, and everything would be clear come morning.

Chapter II

Under normal conditions, Celestia would have delighted in the cool wind blowing in her face. Flying, even in her chariot, evoked a sense of freedom and spontaneity in her, not to mention an escape from the trappings of royalty. More than anything, it reminded her of her youth, now but the most distant of memories, when she could go flying about whenever and wherever she wanted, playing in the air as if it were her own personal playground. Yet Celestia also knew how her student could be when things ‘went wrong,’ so she kindly kept a windshield spell active as they flew through the cloudy, moist sky across the Equestrian landscape.

She cast a wry smile at Twilight, who sat beside her poring over notecards with all the focus of a hawk. How badly would the pony panic if the windshield spell were to be lifted and all those notecards go flying in the chariot’s wake? Celestia could easily see it as a means to a lesson. Despite the smirk building on her lips, she let the idea go; it would have been nothing short of cruel.

Twilight was far too tense, and Celestia concluded that this simply wouldn’t do. She asked in a teasing tone, “Since when did you become my secretary?”

The question did nothing to stop Twilight's peering study. “I’m not trying to be your secretary, I just want this to go well. It’s your first public appearance since the battle. Ponies need to know that everything’s okay and you’re—” She paused when one of her notecards failed to make way for the next. It took her a few tries before she noticed Celestia’s golden aura holding one corner of it.

Twilight’s narrowed eyes met Celestia’s. Celestia only smiled, hoping her calm manner might rub off on her student.

After a moment’s pause, Twilight blinked, glanced from her notecards and back to her teacher, then blushed and put them away. “You’re right. I’ve already memorized them by this point anyway.”

Celestia set a hoof to Twilight’s shoulder. “I know this was your idea, but this isn’t a formal visit. There’s no need to treat it like one. Everything will be fine.”

Twilight tapped her hooves together, her ears folded flat against her head as she looked beyond their pegasus drivers. “I know you’d like it that way, but to the common pony your arrival is always a big deal. I don’t want to disappoint them.” She didn’t have to add the “or you”. Celestia sensed it just fine.

“Ponyville is a perfectly pleasant community,” Celestia said, turning her attention to the clouds ahead. “I’ve been there enough times to know. This trip is meant to be relaxing, so relax. Enjoy the view.”

“That I can do,” Twilight replied lightly.

Celestia only chuckled.

As if Celestia’s words had been a command, the clouds parted before the chariot and the town appeared. The houses of thatch and the cobblestone roads always struck Celestia as pleasantly quaint, which was no doubt how the citizens liked it. She had long ago deemed it picturesque, and perfect for a pleasant day away from the castle and royal responsibilities. Donating the land to the Apple Family had truly been one of her more sound decisions.

The chariot descended, aimed directly for town hall. Ponies took note of their approach, and within minutes a crowd had gathered in the central plaza. Their arrival was met by cheers as they landed within a wide circle of onlookers. The chariot eased to a stop, and Celestia leaned over to speak just loud enough to be heard over the collective cries and stomps. “You told them we were coming, didn’t you?”

Twilight flinched and flashed a sheepish smile. “Just the date, not the time. What gave it away?”

Celestia scanned the crowd, pleased to see so many happy faces. “The numbers.” She stood and spread her wings, and the ponies bowed as one while she stepped onto the immaculate street. With a little magic, she enhanced her voice to be heard over the entire square without shouting. “Please, my friends. Today is not a day for bowing. The war is over, Harmony has returned to Equestria, and our families are safe. Rise, take pleasure in this wonderful day, and greet me not as your princess. For today, I am only your neighbor, Celestia, seeking to enjoy your most delightful company.”

The ponies rose and approached, all eager to be the first to speak with her. And Celestia let them come, waving away the two pegasus guards who’d already unhitched themselves. Within seconds, she was surrounded by happy ponies speaking over one another and vying for her attention.

“Please.” She maintained her light tone and friendly smile, her spell sending the words to all, “Be still, my friends. I assure you, there is enough of me to go around.” She cast a glance over their heads to Twilight, who watched from the chariot with a beaming smile. Adjusting her spell so only she would hear, Celestia said, “Go on, Twilight. Mingle and explore. Have some fun.” Twilight blinked, her ears perking and eyes widening ever so slightly. She glanced around, clearly at a loss. Then she smiled and, with one last nod to Celestia, trotted off.

Things started normally enough. The closest ponies asked their questions about the war and Equestria’s future. Celestia was more than happy to ease their concerns. Mayor Mare tried to move her along to some scheduled tour of the town, but Celestia paid her little mind beyond a polite decline. But as the impromptu meet and greet went on, Celestia found herself growing more and more uncomfortable. While speaking to a withered blue elder stallion, she gained the distinct feeling that there was something wrong with this scenario. Her ponies were so attentive, so eager, so… loyal. They were crowding her in.

Celestia couldn’t pinpoint the source of her discomfort. They were just ponies. Her loyal subjects. Yet their beaming smiles, their fawning voices, they seemed off somehow. Like they weren’t real. The crowd grew quiet. They were staring at her because… because…

Because the mayor had asked her a question. Reining in her embarrassment at missing it, Celestia turned her attention to the grey mare. “I beg your pardon, Madame Mayor?”

The mayor’s smile was more subdued than those of the other ponies. “Forgive my intrusion, Your Highness, but if we stay here you’ll lose the entire day.”

Ah, an escape!

…from what? Celestia looked around and found nothing but friendly ponies. Shaking off her moment of uncertainty, she nodded. “Quite right. I apologize, my little ponies, but I would very much like to explore Ponyville.”

And so she moved on with her visit, feeling no small sense of relief. The citizens followed her around like lovesick puppies, eager to absorb her every word. The two pegasus guards kept their distance, despite Celestia’s encouragement for them to enjoy their time in town. She didn’t mind their faithful observation, though.

Her journey meandered. The mayor tried to get her to take a pre-planned route, but Celestia would have none of that. This was meant to be an informal visit with no agenda, and she intended to keep it that way. She explored a residential neighborhood first, chatting with locals who eagerly stepped outside to greet her. She visited the town market, taking time to enjoy all the products and produce on offer. Ponyville was especially known for its apples, a matter that greatly pleased Celestia. After all, it was the apple farmers she’d gifted this land to that had made Ponyville what it is today. She was delighted to encounter a descendant of that same family running a stall of the delectable fruits.

They had a pleasant conversation regarding the well-known history of the family, leading to a story from Celestia that nearly every pony in the market listened to with rapt attention. They all seemed to greatly enjoy her recounting of the founding of Ponyville, and the young mare swelled with pride from beginning to end. Celestia happily purchased a few apples for when she got back to the castle, which appeared to truly make the farmer’s day.

She next went to visit a local clothier, who all but fainted upon recognizing her latest guest. Once the initial excitement died down, the proprietor regretted to admit she had nothing in Celestia’s size – not a surprise, all things considered. Even so, Celestia eagerly perused the mare’s wares. There had been rumors that this boutique offered some particularly impressive designs, and she was not disappointed.

When she asked the tailor if she’d be willing to take her measurements for a future order, the poor young mare really did faint. Once the swooning was remedied and the mare had enough of herself back to hold measuring tape in her magic, she giddily took Celestia’s measurements and promised a most ‘smashing’ design in her future. As much as Celestia liked this pony, she was happy to return to her throng of followers, if only so as not to cause another fainting episode.

It was while having lunch – if cake alone could be considered lunch – at a local bakery that Celestia took notice. The crowd of ponies, now gathered outside the café and looking in… had there always been so many? She cast a curious look from her little table by the stairs, taking in their grinning, bright expressions. Some had greeted her the moment she stepped off the chariot, still shadowing her every move. They watched with a sort of fawning fascination. Some entered and ate for themselves, but she noticed nearly all of them ordered the same thing, which happened to be what she’d ordered.

Eyes. Dozens of dozens of pairs, all on her. Some approached to gush and offer praise, congratulating her on her victory or complimenting her taste in cuisine or, in some cases, waxing poetic about her beauty. Nearly every single one had something nice to say about the day and her Sun. When out of range, they spoke among themselves in whispers, giggling like school children on the playground.

As this continued for the rest of her meal, Celestia began to fidget. They were like… she couldn’t think of the term, but their incessant adulation made her want to hide beneath the tablecloth. It was one thing to be appreciated by her ponies, but this seemed something akin to obsession. Fanaticism. Her ponies didn’t all think of her in such reverential terms, did they? In all her times coming to Ponyville, had the citizens ever treated her like this?

Now that she paused to think of it, when was the last time she visited Ponyville?

And with that lone thought, the illusion shattered. Abruptly, Celestia felt less like an honored guest and more like a deified sham. They shouldn’t be looking at her that way, with such blind affection. She wanted nothing more than for them to leave her alone for a few minutes and let her breathe. And yet they kept staring and giggling and praising with wide, enamored eyes and broad, toothy grins.

Ponyquins. Dolls. Golems. The comparisons struck her with an urgent sense of wrongness. Her cake forgotten, Celestia stood with a singular focus: she needed to get away.

“Oh, leaving so soon?” her pink waitress asked, bouncing in place as she grinned.

“I… y-yes.” Celestia glanced at the ponies in the windows. So many eager gazes. Lowering her voice, she whispered to the pony, “I’d like to spend some time away for a little while. Do you happen to have a back door?”

The bouncing ceased as the waitress’s blue eyes crossed in puzzlement. “Really? But why would you…?” She copied Celestia’s glance at the faces watching them throughout the café and through the windows, and her volume rose. “Why yes, we do in fact have a bathroom! Just through the door to the kitchen. Don’t worry, Princess, the cooks won’t mind one bit.”

Celestia smiled and moved past with a quiet “thank you,” her magic summoning and slipping payment for the food into the waitress’s apron pocket along with a sizeable tip. She entered the kitchen, in which four ponies in toques made a show of not noticing her arrival. Feeling like a foal hiding from her mother’s unhappy gaze, she hurried to a back door that led into a small alleyway. To her relief, there was not a single pony present.

But she couldn’t linger here for long. Soon the crowd out front would realize she’d slipped off. For some reason, the idea of being found again sent shivers along her spine. But where would she go? Ponyville was a small place. It wasn’t like there were many places to hide.

Hide. Goddess, but she felt silly.

Silly didn’t trump anxiety. Not this time. Celestia walked through the back alleys, moving with caution lest she alert somepony of her presence. She’d always wanted to be appreciated by her ponies, but that had been too much. They hadn’t seemed like ponies, not really. Which was ridiculous—what else could they be?

She paused at a crossroads among the small buildings. She looked one way and saw an open street, the town market visible just a few buildings away. The one before her led to an unfamiliar road. On her right…

The river, and a path beyond, heading west. No buildings out there, only hills bearing the promise of some much-needed alone time. Celestia walked to the end of the alleyway and paused to examine the buildings to her left and right. She appeared to be at the edge of the town center, but how could that be? The town center wouldn’t be directly next to the open landscape.

Even so, she decided to count her blessings; the area appeared devoid of activity. With one last check to ensure she wouldn’t be seen, Celestia stepped out and spread her wings. It took only a few seconds to fly over the river, and soon she was walking down the dirt path. A shallow curve took her around a hill, and Ponyville disappeared as if it had never been.

The tension left Celestia’s wings and shoulders. She took a deep breath of the refreshing atmosphere of nature, at last certain she was safe from wide, disturbing eyes. Had her little ponies always been so… appreciative? She couldn’t remember, but she didn’t think so. When had such a change occurred? Was it natural, or was it—?

She felt as though her mind was at war with itself. The fretting thoughts were pushed away, and this confused her at first, but then she smiled and shrugged; of course the change was natural. But still disturbing. The smile dropped as she considered possible solutions. After all, she was no goddess, nor was she perfect. She’d made far too many terrible mistakes in her life to let the masses think… she wasn’t… Why was it so hard to focus? What was wrong with her?

Oh, had she reached the woods already?

Celestia came to a stop alongside her thoughts. What had she just been thinking of? She eyed the great forest spread before her and felt a chill running along her wings. She’d been here before, of course, but for some reason the dark wood seemed unusually ominous to her. The way the shadows loomed over all beneath that canopy spoke of danger and mystery. The trees stretched their limbs wide, clawing at one another in an everlasting battle for supremacy. The bushes bore thick green leaves that concealed much of the forest floor, and some primal instinct within Celestia warned that creatures foul and hungry hid beyond the shadows.

The Everfree Forest. Truly, a place as opposed to Harmony as anything could be. Something within whispered that she should not be here, and she readily agreed. Circling about, she started back for Ponyville.

Birdsong met her perked ears, bringing her to a halt. What a familiar sound. Where had she heard it before? She looked back over her shoulder, fears fading as the song continued to flow through the air. Did it come from the woods? Slowly, she turned to face the Everfree. Her eyes traced the perimeter, searching from branch to branch. The song beckoned her, playful and pleading at the same time. The faintest hint of dark feathers enticed her.

What are you? Though the whispers demanded she leave this terrible place, Celestia gradually approached the treeline. The anxiety she’d sensed moments ago faded and a smile slipped to her lips. She did not know this bird, but her heart begged her to find it. Her steps steadied as she left the path, the shadows of the forest engulfing her, and yet she felt safe. The birdsong danced in her ears.

“I’m coming,” Celestia muttered. “I know you. I swear I do. What are you?”

The bird, ever unseen, only sang louder, as if begging for her presence. Celestia wanted to oblige. She couldn’t fathom why, but it felt unbearably important that she find the source of the singing. West. She just needed to go west. Through the trees. Beyond the trees. Onwards to something… something…

The song shifted into something less rhythmic and playful. It rose in volume and speed, becoming little more than horrid shrieks. Celestia froze, wings half-opened and breath caught in her throat. The fear so thoroughly forgotten returned with a vengeance, filling her soul with a dread of… of what? No answer came to her, yet even so she shivered. Her legs fought to move, but did nothing save tremble.

The shrieking ceased, and Celestia felt a gaping hole open in her chest. She gasped, wobbling in place as the loss grew and grew in her mind. Where did this feeling come from? Tears streaked her cheeks, but why? She was a foal beneath the claw of foalhood monsters, ready to scream for her mother’s protection and her father’s soothing words.
The shadows deepened. Celestia searched frantically for something, anything in the forest. She couldn’t hear it for the pounding of her heart, couldn’t see it through the growing darkness. But she felt it, like a thick cloud of smoke creeping over her, squeezing her throat and crushing her will. It was coming. It was coming. It is coming!

It appeared.

A black shape grew out of the shadow, rising above Celestia like a specter. Its fluid, smoky form reached out to grip the trees like claws, and though it made no noise, Celestia could swear the beast howled with a force to shake the very earth beneath her hooves. From within the black came two bright yellow pupils, narrow as a cat’s, that glared down at her as a predator upon prey. Celestia looked back and felt as though ice encased her heart, her mind, her entire body.

This… this thing was beyond her comprehension. Her mind couldn’t even try to understand, for every time she sought to define it, her thoughts slipped away like water through her hooves. Her mouth opened for a scream, but all that emerged was a pathetic whine and the hissing of lost air. That voice in the back of her head shrieked at her. Flee! Escape! Run away, you fool!

The Beast lurched forward, landing on all fours, and the resulting quake brought Celestia to her knees. But the jolt of the fall kicked her body into motion, and she tore from the scene as fast as her legs could carry her. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t look back, even as the strange thing’s silent cry vibrated through her very bones. The edge of the forest was there, right there! If she could just make it out and warn Ponyville, warn what ponies she could, and then… and then…

She burst from beneath the canopy and, in a flourish of wings and feathers, rocketed into the open sky. Celestia’s throat burned and her heart pounded. For a time, all she could do was fly, fly as fast as her wings would allow. Gradually, her mind settled and speed slowed. She hovered in place, mind and memory foggy with the afterimage of her horror.
Celestia turned to the Everfree. From this height and distance, it appeared as a blanket covering the western horizon, stopping just at the edge of the small town below her. Her heart hammered her ribs as a cold shiver ran across every inch of her body as she looked upon that edge… but why? She knew something was wrong, something terrible, something that needed addressing.

But what?

She blinked and rubbed her face. Tears? When had she cried?

Forget it, a voice whispered in her mind. You are safe now. Just leave it be.

How tempting a thought. She could go back home to her loving parents, continue to teach her precious student and be loved by her ponies as…

“No.” She shook her head, gritting her teeth and fighting back the urge that had welled up inside her. She’d seen something in the forest, something terrible, even if she could not recall it. This was not the time for idleness. Whatever it had been, she knew on instinct that it was a danger to her and her ponies. It had to be dealt with… but how could she deal with it when she had no memory of what it had been?

“Your Highness?” She blinked, turning to find her two pegasus guards hovering a few yards away. “Is everything alright?”

Yes… yes, everything was alright. Just a momentary scare, that was—No! Shut up! Whatever you are, shut up!

The stallions backed off, eyes going wide, and Celestia realized her lips had curled back in a snarl. With practiced ease, she forced her face back to neutrality and spoke in her commanding tone. “Are either of you aware of the location of my student?”

The guards saluted sharply. “Yes, ma’am! She entered the town hall not fifteen minutes ago.”

Celestia cast one last look towards the forest. Perhaps it was only a trick of the light, but it seemed even darker than it had been a moment ago. The idea sent a tremor through her body, though she could not fathom why.

“Very good. Take me to Twilight Sparkle.”

The doors closed behind Celestia as she stepped into the circular entry room of Ponyville’s Town Hall, a two-story space brightly lit by tall windows and its walls tastefully decorated with bookshelves and local art displays. A balcony swathed in blue curtains stood over the opposite door, perhaps a place for public speaking.

And there, standing alone in the middle of the room, was Twilight. Body rigid, she stared up at the curtains as if transfixed. Celestia walked up behind her, looking from her student to the balcony and back. She couldn’t recall Twilight ever being so still.

She stepped around to Twilight’s side and studied her face. Her lips were just slightly parted, and her eyes seemed to bore into something beyond the curtains with a barely discernible fear. She breathed slowly, as if it took effort to do so. Celestia gazed upon the pony’s expression and felt her earlier fright rekindled in a small way.

“What is it? Twilight?”

With a gasp, Twilight looked to her. Her eyes widened in recognition before she turned back to the balcony above them. “I… I…”

Celestia reached out to touch Twilight’s shoulder. She flinched away. “Twilight?”

“I’m sorry, Princess. I just…” Twilight rubbed a shaking hoof across her face, brushing her mane back as she did. “I feel like I know this place. As though I’ve been here before, and something happened. Something important. Something… frightening.”

Frightening? But Twilight had never been to Ponyville before. What could she possibly be referring to? Celestia looked up to the balcony and froze. Did something move behind the curtains? A shadow? Her heart rate increased as she took a wary step back. These emotions, this chill in her blood like the cold grip of winter… it felt terribly familiar.

“Princess Celestia.” Twilight stepped a little closer to her, ears tucked back as she lowered her head. “I don’t feel right. Like there’s something wrong with…”

“With this place,” Celestia finished for her, lips pursed as she studied the balcony.

Twilight pressed tightly against her side. “N-no. With me.”

At a glance, Celestia noted how pale her student had become. She shivered and wrapped a wing about Twilight’s shoulder, keeping her close as they began to walk backwards to the exit. “I don’t know about you, Twilight,” she whispered, eyes darting about the room, “but something is definitely wrong. I think it best we returned to Canterlot.”

“Y-yes, Princess.”

They stepped outside without incident, where the two royal guards awaited. Celestia looked to them, fighting to maintain her calm tone. “Bring the carriage, if you please. We are going home.”

The guards saluted and flew off. Celestia brought Twilight out from beneath the shadow of Town Hall and into the sunlight. The poor thing trembled like a leaf, and Celestia decided to withhold her questions for now. It wouldn’t do to make Twilight more upset than she already was. So instead, they sat in the grass and waited, Celestia rubbing a hoof through Twilight’s mane.

“Princess?” Twilight glanced up at her. “What’s wr-wrong?”

Indeed, what? Celestia looked to the building behind them, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. It was just a building. When she turned her eyes west, there was no terrible forest. Only the town and its buildings blocking the view. Even so, she thought she saw something dark flit through an alleyway, completely unnoticed by a populace that now gathered in the street to watch her with tireless awe.

“I don’t know, Twilight.”

Forget it. It is nothing worth worrying about.

“But I intend to find out.”

Chapter III

Celestia awoke with a start, her eyes popping open and her heart thudding against her chest. Flames danced fresh in her retinae like some sort of pyromaniacal phantom. For a time she merely lay in place, hugging one of her pillows to her chest and taking slow, steadying breaths. At last, she found the courage necessary to sit up, and the first thing she did was check the dark corners of her room.

She released the breath she’d been holding along with the pillow. No fire. Of course there was no fire, it had been only a nightmare.

Hadn’t it? After allowing a moment for her pulse to steady, Celestia closed her eyes and focused on what she’d seen and felt during the dream. It tried to fade, but she kept calm and grasped at the images carefully. Fire before her. Fire behind her. Even fire inside of her, setting her soul to the torch.

Celestia knew fire. As warden and guide for the Sun, she had an intimate awareness of flame and heat. Such a thing would not harm her nor scare her. And yet she’d woken up with a distinct fear, a feeling like something were dragging her away from…

From the flames. It had never been the fire of her dreams that frightened her, but something else. Something cold and wet and clinging, something that didn’t want her anywhere near the pleasant heat. But try as hard as Celestia did, she could not fathom exactly what the threat had been.

Now that the unknown threat was on her mind, Celestia felt an increasingly familiar unease. Her eyes strayed across her chambers: plush rugs intact, dining table not set ablaze, two bookcases right where she’d left them. Yet something was not right about the place. Something couldn’t be right. Once more, she took in the dark corners of the room, almost certain of a presence eyeing her from the shadows. The lack of motion did nothing to settle the shiver running up and down her spine.

Her gaze fell upon the picture of a forest… and stayed there. A forest. What forest? A dark place, where something unseen and unheard lingered and leered and waited. Something…

Everything is fine. She crawled back from the painting, her breath coming in small gasps. Everything is alright. Go back to bed. Her hooves slipped off the mattress. Carefully, wings half-opened and head low, she backed away. She didn’t take her eyes off that forest. There’s nothing there. Nothing at all.

Celestia stepped out onto her balcony and, using her magic, quickly but quietly closed the doors. The picture was still visible through the glass, taunting her with its… It’s just a picture.

The curtains closed in her magic. “I’m getting to the bottom of this.”

Shouldn’t she have done that yesterday? Yes, she’d wanted to. Why had she… The forest had made her want to. Why had the forest…?

Her thoughts derailed at the pale light on her balcony. She turned to look east, where her sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. Canterlot glistened in the morning light like a city of jewels. A pleasant sight, as always. Perhaps today she could go down and—

“No.” Stiffening, Celestia ruffled her wings and stomped. “I’ll not be distracted, not this time. I lost all of yesterday because of… of something, but I will not lose today!” She moved to return to her bedroom and froze.

Had something moved behind her curtains?

Instinct told her to go in and confront the trespasser, but fear slammed the desire down into the depths of her mind. Ever since the Everfree… And it was here. In her room. She couldn’t prove it without going in, but Celestia was beyond the need for evidence. Some terrified piece buried deep in her soul screamed that she needed to get away, to hide, to escape!

But how could she solve the mystery if she just ran? Legs and wings so stiff they ached, Celestia fought against her cursed emotional state. Now was not the time to panic. Now was the time to act, to be decisive, to—but what if she couldn’t handle it? Would she fear it so much if she knew she could? It might be a trick, though, a spell that used fear as a weapon.

And if it wasn’t?

Thrusting her wings down in a powerful burst, she soared into the Canterlot sky and felt all the more cowardly for it. Wind whipped through her mane and feathers, the cool air pushing against her anxiety like a winter’s breeze. As she ascended higher and higher, leaving the glimmering spires of the castle below, her breathing eased. The panic that had almost consumed her faded into a background noise, and the shaking of her hooves, once unnoticed for her fear, receded.

Upon breaking through a thin wisp of cloud, Celestia felt her calm at last returned to her. But not in full, oh no. She landed, the moisture of the cloud chilling her legs, and stared at her home below. In the rosey light of morning, the buildings shone like pink diamonds. The world beyond the city was a brilliant landscape made darker by shadows that gradually retreated, as if a veil were being removed from the blushing face of a green-coated bride. Ponyville stood in the distance, tiny and innocuous beside the weighty presence of the Everfree.

Equestria. Beautiful. Fragile.

Wrong. Equestria had never been so small. Yet, as Celestia raised her eyes to the horizon, she found nothing. No other towns graced the distant countryside. And when she set her gaze in any other direction, the view was the same. There should be something visible in the distance, something other than green.

Equestria is perfect.

No. It was wrong, and she was going to find out why. Spreading her wings once more, Celestia dove for the Archmage’s tower.

It was not Starswirl that Celestia met when she landed before the balcony doors to the tower. Instead, she was startled to find Dova there. The griffon paused, claw raised in the act of knocking on the glass, and blinked at Celestia’s sudden arrival by her side. “Oh. Princess. Didn’t expect to see you here so early.”

“Dova.” Celestia repeated a mantra in her mind—Something is wrong. Something is wrong—to keep from forgetting her cause. Only the need for basic courtesy kept her from shoving past her old friend and marching into the laboratory. “What has you coming to visit Starswirl?”

Dova rubbed the back of her neck where the feathers and fur turned black and grumbled before answering. “Neck problems. I swear, it’s like it’s on fire or something.”

Concern attempted to wedge its way between Celestia and her focus, but she shook it away with a rustle of her wings. “I see. Let us hope the Archmage has a remedy.” Her voice was cold, but she didn’t dare let herself lose track of what was important. She trusted Dova. She didn’t trust her own mind.

Celestia flinched. That almost makes it sound as if I’m going crazy. Shoving the distraction aside, she used her magic to push the door open. “Come, let us find the old wizard.”

“Umm…” Dova bowed as Celestia walked past. “I-it looks as though you have important business to attend to with him. I’ll talk to him later. It doesn’t hurt that bad, really.”

Her friend felt slighted! Celestia started to turn back—No! No distractions! “I apologize, Dova. I promise not to take up too much of his time.” The doors banged shut behind her, leaving Celestia alone in the laboratory.

The place was dark. Gritting her teeth in frustration, Celestia picked her way around the books and tables and assorted bric-a-brac. Why couldn’t the tower’s ceilings be taller? She’d have had the ceiling raised decades ago if Starswirl hadn’t—

She kicked a nearby table, causing bottles to rattle. “I am not going to be sidetracked!” Stomping her way through the clutter, she reached the stairs and climbed. She called for Starswirl at the second floor and, upon hearing no reply, hurried onward before the lingering yellow mist on that floor could gain a foothold on her attention. The third floor tempted her with a green flame glowing in the center of the room, but she somehow resisted the anxious desire to make sure it wasn’t dangerous. In the back of her mind, a familiar voice noted that she was treating inanimate objects as if they might be actively trying to sabotage her, and that was ridiculous. More and more, Celestia viewed that little whisper to be treacherous. She wasn’t insane, she was devoted.

She came to an abrupt stop at the top of the stairs. All thought of avoiding distractions fled at the sight of Starswirl dangling from the ceiling from a system of pulleys and ribbons. He hung sideways, legs twisted akimbo in wild positions that couldn’t possibly be comfortable. His neck was free from such restrictions, limply lolling upside down such that his horn nearly scraped the floor. His tongue dangled out of his loose lips as if it hoped to lick up crumbs from the ground. For a frightening instant Celestia suspected he’d somehow gotten himself killed by one of his experiments – something she’d seen coming decades ago, in truth. Her pulse slowed at the sound of his snores, the one thing proving he had not, in fact, unintentionally brought about his own demise.

Sighing, Celestia trotted through the wizard’s living quarters, which took up the entire level of the tower. Despite being filled with opened books, empty plates, and robes discarded haphazardly, this was by far the cleanest place in the whole tower. After picking her way through the mess and steering clear of the random bottles of questionable contents, she paused at his side and nudged him lightly. “Starswirl.”

He snorted, grumbled, and made a motion that was probably meant to be an attempt at rolling over. When he failed to rouse, she jabbed his side with the tip of her hoof. “Wake up, old goat.”

More grumbling. His foreleg moved to swat her away, but proved unable to escape from some ribbon looped just above the elbow. After a while it gave up, and still Starswirl didn’t awaken.

Let him be. He doesn’t get enough sleep as it is. Just go back and—

Celestia’s reaction to that voice was starting to become instinctual. Forcing her lips into a thin line, she backed away and took in the complex array that held him aloft. Her eyes fell upon a lone knot, and she promptly burned through it with a hint of magic. The ribbon gave with a snap, and Starswirl dropped unceremoniously to the floor.

“Hairballs!” The wizard jerked into a sitting position, ribbon wrapped over his eyes and dangling from his muzzle. “I wasn’t looking at nothing! It was just some mash potatoes and gravy, I swear!”

Celestia cocked an eyebrow. “Good morning to you too, Starswirl.”

He cocked his head. “Eh? Celestia? Why’s it so dark?”

Rolling her eyes, she levitated the ribbon from his face. That was about as much as she could do, considering how tangled up he was. “I’m tempted to ask what possible experiment could lead you to do such a ridiculous thing—”

“And it might have worked, too.” He wriggled his forehooves free of ribbons before looking up at the pulleys. He gasped. “Hey, my ribbons! You cut my ribbons!”

“Starswirl.”

“I’ll have you know that it took me four hours to get the orientation just right so that my body could undergo the perfect—”

“Starswirl.”

He growled, though she couldn’t tell whether it was at her or at the ribbon that refused to unwrap from his barrel. “Yes. What?”

She glared at him, feeling the little sun within her grow. “There is something wrong and I need your help to do something about it.”

“Oh, yeah?” He continued to fight with his tormentor, not even granting her a glance. “What is it this time?”

The words died on her lips. Indeed, what was it? A shadow. But more! She just didn’t know what ‘more’ really meant. How could she explain something so alien and unknowable? He might not even believe her. She barely believed her. Maybe she should just forget it and—No. She couldn’t give in to her anxieties again! All she had to do was tell him. It shouldn’t be that hard. But even with that internal pep talk, she hesitated to speak. “I… I’ve been seeing things. Feeling things. There’s something in my head, Starswirl. Something telling me that everything is fine. It’s not.”

He finally looked at her directly, straight eyebrows completing his deadpan look. “I think that’s called practical thought.”

Just as she’d feared. For a moment – only a moment – she considered forgetting the whole thing. Was that her talking, or was it… whatever was going on with her? She would not let it win. She would be decisive about this! Standing to her full height, Celestia stared imperiously down her muzzle at him. “Something is wrong, Starswirl, and there is a force of some kind actively trying to keep me from noticing. We need to determine what that something is and what it is hiding.”

Grumbling, the archmage rubbed at the back of his neck. “Twilight and I determined there’s no mischievous magics in the area. And I distinctly recall your disinterest my sound advice regarding the potential for changeling infiltrators. What more do you want from me?” He growled and increased the force of his rubbing. “Bloody sunlight, why does my neck itch so much?”

“I ignored your advice because you were being unreasonable,” she countered coolly, not daring to mention she couldn't recall him giving her any in the first place. “But now I know that something is wrong.”

“And what, exactly, is wrong?” He finally stopped scratching and began to stretch, his old bones popping with his motions.

Celestia hesitated once more, her mind going back to… to what? In her room, and a forest… there had been a forest, hadn’t there?

It was happening again. Her mouth dried up and her heart twisted as she struggled to remember exactly what drove her to come here. “I… Shadow. I remember shadow. And a f-force that tried to… to…” She took a couple deep breaths in an effort to maintain her calm. “It’s fading. It’s fading, Starwirl. It won’t let me remember the details.”

He stood up from his stretching and took in her appearance, brows gradually rising. “Celestia? Are you alright?”

“No!” Her wings snapped open, sending smaller objects flying in the resultant wind. “I feel something watching me. It is in my head and pretending to be me and wanting me to forget and not worry and relax and I don’t need to do any of those things! I felt it yesterday in… in the place…” She struggled to remember, digging through her mind for some recognition, sweat beading on her brow as she realized how bad the situation really was. To make her forget the name of such a familiar place as—“Ponyville! I saw it in Ponyville.”

He nodded, at last really focusing upon her. He took a step closer and raised his hoof in a supplicating motion. “Ponyville. Okay. More. Come now, Celestia, what did you see?”

“I-I can’t remember.” She sank to her haunches, knees trembling beneath her. “I can’t remember, Starswirl. I just know that it’s big and malicious and is trying to make me not think about anything even remotely worrying.”

Another nod, this time accompanied by a hum. His brow furrowed and he rubbed his lengthy beard. Celestia waited for him to respond, her wings fidgeting.

At last, he looked to her. His lips raised in a calm smile, and the tension in his face relaxed. “You know, Equestria is at peace.”

She scowled and shook her head. “I don’t know about that.”

“Don’t you?” He stepped closer and reared up to set his forehooves on her shoulders. She leaned back a bit, not sure he’d ever come so close to her before. “You did it, Celestia. Equestria is safe. But you’ve been fighting for that for a very long time, haven’t you?”

Celestia was tempted to push him away. Having this pony, whom she’d known since his foalhood, suddenly so close left her with a mysterious twisting sensation in her guts, as if she might become sick. The feeling made it hard for her to focus on his words. “W-what are you getting at?”

“That you’ve been fighting for too long.” He smiled, but his eyes were sad. “Far too long. I think you don’t know how to do anything else, and so you’ve conjured up this shadow monster to deal with. But there is no monster, Celestia.”

He thought she was making the whole thing up! That inner sun came back with a vengeance, but Celestia reined it in with the skill of centuries of practice, such that the flames became more like ice. She took his hooves in her magic and gently forced them back to the floor. “I am not imagining things. I am not losing my mind. There is something out there, Starswirl.”

He scrutinized her with a heavy-lidded stare, then sat back and sighed. He began rubbing the back of his neck once more. “Of course there is, Celestia. Tell you what, I’ll do some digging into this ‘Shadow Monster’ thing of yours. Meanwhile, why don’t you go see Twilight?”

Celestia blinked. “Twilight?”

“Twilight.” He smirked, only to grimace as his scratching intensified. “Confounded itch… Look, Twilight worships the ground you walk on. She’s your lovely little yes mare, and I know she’ll be more than happy to help you, eh, ‘iron out the kinks,’ if you will.”

Cocking her head with ears perked, Celestia repeated his choice of words in her mind. “I don’t follow.”

“Of course you don’t. Of course I don’t. Nopony needs to be ‘aware,’ so to speak. It’s only the worst kept secret in Equestria.”

His words entered her ears, but they made no sense. Were there rumors going around regarding Celestia and Twilight? What kind of rumors? “Starswirl, would you please elaborate on what this secret is supposed to be between me and… and…” She stared at him, mind locked upon the two names. Starswirl. Twilight. Twilight and Starswirl. Two ponies she knew. Two ponies she loved. Two ponies she’d trained. Two ponies.

Her blood ran cold. “Why are you here?”

“Hmm?” He paused in his scratching to glance at her, glower disappearing at her tone. His ears perked and his tail flicked. “What do you mean? This is my room.”

He wasn’t supposed to be here. If Twilight was here… “You’re not supposed to be here.”

With an exaggerated air, he turned his body to look left, then right, then back at her. “And where am I supposed to be?”

“Not here.” Celestia’s pulse rose once more, creating a drumbeat in her folded ears. “N-not here. Not in the same world as Twilight. She is my student. And you are…”

He stiffened. His forelegs locked and his ears rose. His lips became a straight line and his eyes focused upon her as if she’d become the most important pony in existence. It was neither a friendly nor an aggressive look. When he spoke, his voice came out cold. “What am I, Celestia?”

For a few tender moments, silence reigned between them. Something flashed in Celestia’s mind, a scene that disappeared from her gaze so quickly she might have only imagined it. It hadn’t been clear, but it stole her breath away. She’d seen him with that cold, emotionless gaze before. She’d never, ever wanted to see it again. As the ice in her veins spread through her entire body, Celestia turned and ran from him. Only one thought came to mind, but it seared her skull like a lance from the sun itself.

Starswirl was dead.

Only one place might provide Celestia with answers, and so she’d spent the last several hours in the Canterlot Archives. To her frustration, they disappointed. She had considered calling upon the archivists and librarians employed at the castle to help in her search, but what would she tell them? Somehow, trying to explain that the Royal Archmage who regularly perused these shelves before the eyes of everypony was supposed to be dead didn’t seem like a wise maneuver. Add that with the lingering sense of being watched at all times, and they’d think she’d gone senile.

She couldn’t blame them. Celestia was tempted to question her own sanity, given the things she now knew. Assuming that she ‘knew’ anything, of course. Everything that had happened since the battle was a mishmash of muddled memories and dark, barely discernible recollections. But she wasn’t senile. Not yet, at least. All she needed was a clue, and perhaps some help. At the time, she’d thought there was only one pony for the job.

Unfortunately, Twilight proved as effective as Celestia did. She sat in the middle of a tall circle of books, with more adding to the pile every second. The tomes flew past her eyes at a steady pace, pausing for an instant before being discarded. Celestia watched this from nearby, somehow managing not to wince every time another book hit the pile like so much trash. Since when did Twilight disrespect books?

She wouldn’t challenge it. Nopony could go through a collection like Twilight could, and Celestia desperately needed the help.

With the sunlight turning orange in the window, Twilight groaned and let a final book pass before her heavy-set eyes. “I’m sorry, Princess. There just aren’t any spells regarding the things you’re describing.”

“But that can’t be right.” Celestia barely noticed the whining pitch of her own voice. “I know there are spells on memory manipulation and reviving the dead. I put them here!”

“Are you sure?” Stretching languidly, Twilight climbed her way out of the valley of tomes. “Maybe you just, uh, ‘think’ you did.”

Scowling, Celestia cast her gaze upon the empty shelves and three more book piles further down the lengthy room. “I wouldn’t forget doing battle with a necromancer, Twilight, or making sure his corruption was locked safely away.”

Twilight hummed as she came to stand at her side. Her ears folded back. “Well… maybe somepony else took them? It might explain some things.”

The very idea brought a shiver down Celestia’s spine. “Yes. Yes, it would. Not just anypony can get into these archives. We’d be dealing with a mage of significant power.”

With lips pursed and eyes narrowed, Twilight studied Celestia. After a moment of consideration, she asked, “Have you considered asking Starswirl about it?” The long stare Celestia sent her way made her look away. “I m-mean, who better to know about death and revival than the one who did the reviving?”

That’s not a bad point. But Celestia shook her head forcefully. “I can’t ask him. For all I know, he’s being manipulated. I have to keep this between the two of us.”

Twilight’s ears perked. Her lips shook, as if she were fighting not to smile. “I appreciate your trust.”

“And I appreciate your confidentiality.” Celestia shifted from hoof to hoof, unable to meet her student’s eyes. “Twilight, do you remember what happened in Ponyville? In Town Hall?”

Now it was Twilight who shivered. “How could I forget? It was almost like… like…”

Celestia waited, breath hitched as she took in Twilight’s squirming form. “Yes? Like what?”

Chewing her lip, Twilight kept her head low as she met Celestia’s gaze. “I felt as though I didn’t belong. Like… I’m not really Twilight. It was so weird. How could I not be Twilight Sparkle? But while I was in that building, I could hear a little voice hissing in the back of my head, telling me I was a lie. I’m not a lie.” Her eyes, now big and hopeful, pleaded with Celestia. “Am I?”

The words made Celestia sag. She began to smile… and promptly scowled. Are you so relieved that you would take Twilight’s fears to be a good thing? She moved a little closer to Twilight so that their muzzles nearly touched. “No, Twilight. You are no lie. You are my wonderful, brilliant student. But you’re also the only pony I’ve met so far who has experienced something like what I have. We’re going to have to trust one another to get through this.”

“Like believing in each other when we say something weird is happening.” Twilight bowed her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at first, Princess.”

“It’s quite alright, my little pony.” Celestia somehow managed a smile for her beloved student. “I would have doubted me, too.”

“But I know better.” Twilight fidgeted, raised her legs, lowered them. “I… I mean…” Her eyes began to water.

Recognizing the signs being presented, Celestia no longer had to force her smile. She reached forward with her wings and pulled Twilight close in a light hug and shushed her. “It’s okay. Really, Twilight, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.” Twilight pressed her cheek to Celestia’s chest and sniffled. “You’re Celestia. You’d never lie to me, never lead me astray. For a moment I actually thought you were…”

“Crazy?” In spite of the bitter taste the word left in her mouth, Celestia chuckled. “I suppose when you get to be my age, you start to develop some quirks.”

Twilight replied with a hiccup-laced giggle, her hooves rubbing at Celestia’s coat gently. It was a familiar motion, one she’d done as a filly, not unlike a kitten kneading her mother. The sensation sent a wave of nostalgia through Celestia, reminding her of quieter times with a book beside a warm fire.

They remained that way for a while, Celestia reminiscing as Twilight snuggled against her. With time, however, Celestia came to recognize the peace for what it was: another distraction. If she let them linger on for too long, she’d neglect the entire reason she’d come here. Her eyes drifted once more to the piles of books, which served as the reminder of her search. She opened her mouth—

Twilight beat her to it. “You know, we could retire for the night.”

The tone of her voice caught Celestia off guard. She’d never heard Twilight speak in such a breathless manner. Glancing down, she found the young mare breathing a heavy sigh of contentment. “Retire?”

“I’m scared,” Twilight whispered. “You’re scared. I think if I, y’know… stayed with you tonight?” Pink bloomed across her face. She wouldn’t meet Celestia’s gaze. “Maybe we could, um, ‘comfort’ one another. Right?”

Ah. Celestia smiled once more for her student. “Like when you were a filly, hmm?”

Eyelids lowered. Lips turned up in a smirk. The bloom in Twilight’s cheeks intensified.

“Not even remotely.”

Celestia stared. Twilight stared right back, her hooftip rubbing little circles that went lower and lower…

The air left Celestia’s lungs. She leapt back, wings bursting out in a splash of feathers. “T-Twilight, what are you doing?”

Twilight managed to keep from falling on her face, but only barely. Her head jerked up and her eyes became wide like saucers. “What do you mean? I th-thought you wanted it.” She took a step closer.

The approach was matched by Celestia’s retreat. “Why would I want something that I know you don’t want?”

Her beloved student froze, her ears folding back and her lip trembling. “W-what do you mean? Of course I wanted it. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. You, me together. I—” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I thought you loved me.”

The little voice, the one that had mostly left her alone ever since she’d entered the archives, piped up in her mind. She’s hurting. You’re hurting her. Stop being a coward and accept your feelings.

With a snarl, Celestia whipped around to glare at nothing. “I won’t let you have her!”

“Nopony has me!”

She turned around and yelped; Twilight was running straight for her, cheeks drenched in fresh tears. “Nopony else can ever have me!”

Celestia had no time to think; she lit up her horn and cast the spell. In a flash of yellow light, she twisted the world, and in the next instant she was on the other side of the room. She spun around, heart pounding, and watched Twilight slide to a stop. “Stop this, Twilight! You’re not like this.”

Twilight turned back, her sob piercing Celestia’s ears. “Yes I am! Y-you’re supposed to love me!”

“I do love you, Twilight.” Celestia began inching her way forward, fighting to keep her voice steady. “I love you like a daughter. And I know you well enough to know that this isn’t you. My Twilight never looked at me like that, not once.”

“P-Princess, I…” The young mare sniffed and sat, her entire body trembling. She stared at the floor. “I’m me, aren’t I? I’m me. And you… Part of me says you’re right, that I should be ash-shamed, but another, bigger part says that I… that I…”

Cautious steps. “It’s alright, Twilight.” Slow steps. “We’ll fix this.” No sudden movements. “Everything will be back to normal.”

Tentatively, Celestia reached for her student. She waited, forcing her breathing to be slow and steady even as her pulse thudded in her ears. Please, Twilight. Come back to me.

Twilight’s ears lowered. Rose. Lowered again. She rubbed her muzzle. At last she looked up. When their eyes met, Celestia’s breath stopped; one of Twilight's pupils had become a yellow, draconian slit.

“There’s something wrong with me.” Twilight raised herself up to her full height, legs spread and gaze firm. “But I don’t care. I love you, Celestia. And I’m going to prove it.” She took a commanding step closer.

Celestia stepped back. “No. Twilight—”

“Yes.” The little pony licked her lips. Her tail flicked. “I’m yours, Celestia. Tell me I’m yours.”

“No.”

“Tell me I’m yours!” Twilight leapt forward, and Celestia teleported once more. She stood near the center of the room, turned around—

A bright flash, and Twilight stood before her. “I’m not leaving until I hear it!”

Celestia’s heart was like a hummingbird that had been skewered by needles. “Twilight, enough!”

She teleported to another part of the room. Twilight flashed into place before her own light had even faded. “No! Tell me you love me, Celestia!”

Another teleport, another swift block.

“Please, Twilight, stop this!”

Teleport. Blocked.

“It doesn’t stop until I’m yours!”

Celestia backed away, breath coming in shallow bursts and eyes darting around the room. Twilight was too good, better than she should be. The only way to get past her would be to hurt her, and Celestia wouldn’t dare. Not Twilight. Anypony but her. She was being backed into a corner next to a window, Twilight’s aggression leaving her no room to maneuver.

She made one last attempt, her voice hitching. “T-Twilight, fight it. Please.”

Twilight… No. The creature that looked like Twilight grinned. It was a wicked thing, full of avarice and desire and selfish need. “I don’t want to, Princess.”

Celestia was sure her heart had just shattered, its individual pieces cutting into her chest like shards of glass. Yet no matter how much pain she felt, no matter the loathing that filled her at the thought of what had become of her dear student, she knew she’d never be able to harm the pony before her. Even a doppelganger.

With no other recourse, Celestia did the one thing Twilight couldn’t counter: she teleported into the open air outside the tower.

Twilight's frantic cry reached her through the stone wall. “No! Celestia, come back!”

She didn’t listen. She only flew into the orange and purple sky, tears streaming down her cheeks.

I’ll save you, Twilight. I promise.

Chapter IV

The night held an ominous air, though Celestia could not pin down the exact reason she felt that way. She reminded herself, over and over again, of what had just happened. Twilight had become… not Twilight, for lack of a better description. The memory was like a bruise on her heart, but Celestia forced herself to relive it again and again: the yellow eye, the amorous tone, the magical chase. She had to remember. Even now, she could feel something like claws attempting to rip apart her recollection.

“Don’t forget,” she whispered, repeating the line with each flap of her wings. “Help Twilight. Don’t forget.”

She was getting better at recognizing the signs. They came as feelings, a quiet recognition deep within that something was wrong. As her eyes drifted to the star-studded sky above, another of those tell-tale clues wormed its way into her brain. The night looked just as it always did, and yet she couldn’t help but feel as if it were missing something. Something… obvious.

Then it struck her: she’d never lowered the sun. She didn’t even remember it going down. The hairs along her back stood on end as she observed her surroundings and found herself over a mile outside Canterlot Castle’s walls. But hadn’t she only just left Twilight at the archives?

Twilight.

“Don’t forget.”

Her gaze passed over the dark city of Canterlot below, and the feeling came once more. She focused closely upon the many buildings and quickly came to two conclusions. First, that the city shouldn’t be this dark even in the middle of the night. Where were the streetlamps, the lanterns of guards on patrol, the bright lights of the lower levels with their nightclubs and bars and all-night restaurants? Canterlot slept as well as most cities, but it shouldn’t just be… black.

The second thing she noticed was a now-familiar sensation of being watched. Not just watched. Scrutinized. As if somepony were gauging her actions and making plans, preparing to react to whatever decision she made next. It wasn’t a feeling she could adequately describe to herself, save that it was magical in some way. This awareness brought fresh shivers to her form, her anxiousness made all the worse by the knowledge that somepony may have accessed… accessed…

Celestia cringed and forced her thoughts to Twilight. “Save Twilight.”

She needed help. Twilight was compromised. Starswirl probably had been, too. She wasn’t out of options quite yet. Banking, she started to turn for the castle—

Something purple flashed in her vision, followed by a stream of stardust. Celestia paused, eyes drawn to the gentle call of a familiar Seashore Nightingale. The sighting alone was enough to hold her attention, for what would one be doing at such a high altitude? As she watched, the nightingale flew a few tight circles around her, its soft-as-satin wingtips brushing against her body while it sang with a notable urgency. Then, abruptly, it flew off to the west. It only got so far, however, before it started flipping and circling and calling once more.

Was it trying to tell her something? The idea seemed silly at best, but…

Another distraction! Celestia shook her head forcefully and, with a mighty flap of her wings, darted for the castle, the bird’s frantic calls fading.

“Don’t forget. You have to help Twilight. Don’t forget.”

The lights of the room were still lit, much to Celestia’s surprise. She landed on the balcony and wasted no time pushing her way into the spacious room. Her eyes passed over the old family illustrations that covered two of the walls, instead centering just so as to keep her father in the corner of her eye. The fireplace made for a good focal point. Her father looked up from the book he’d been reading while in the canopy bed. Her mother, dressed in a pale white robe, sat in the corner with her eyes closed and her forelegs crossed, deep in meditation.

“Celestia?” Her father bookmarked his place and shot her a quizzical frown. “Whatever are you doing here so late?”

She turned to him directly, using the familiar shift of the light to find and focus on his now-invisible face. “Father, Mother, there’s something wrong. I need your help.”

The bed creaked as he shifted in place. He spoke in a half-lecturing tone. “This isn’t some political issue, is it?”

“No.” She glanced towards her mother. The mare hadn’t budged, not even an ear twitch. Only the steady rhythm of her breathing ensured that she was alive. “I think Equestria is in grave danger, or at least the monarchy.”

The book closed with a snap. “Now that sounds serious. What’s going on?”

“That’s just it, I’m not sure!” Celestia paced before the bed, her eyes set on her hooves as she struggled to remember everything. “In the town. The town of… oh… what was it called? I was just there! Pony… Place?” She snarled and shook her head violently. “The name isn’t important! What’s important is that there was something there, something that attacked me.”

Out the corner of her eye, her mother at last reacted. It was only the faintest tilt of her head, but it was clue enough that she was paying attention. It gave Celestia a bit of a morale boost, encouraging her to press onward. “I’ve been feeling things. Thinking things that don’t belong to my head. It’s as if something is communicating with me, trying to make me do, think, and remember things incorrectly.”

There came a quiet hum from her father. “Go on.” His voice was perfectly neutral, and she knew then he was deep in thought. Or trying to keep his feelings hidden. One could never be sure with him.

Even so, Celestia pressed on. “I am convinced that Starswirl knows what is going on. He’s… he’s…” Her inner sun blazed. She snorted and stomped, not caring about how she looked. “I can’t remember! Something important. He’s… curses. Twilight would know if—”

It clicked, memories rushing back to her in a wave that made itself known by the words bursting from her mouth. “Twilight! Starswirl is dead, and I know this because Twilight and Starswirl cannot exist at the same time! Which could mean so many things. Is Starswirl a revenant? Who would bring him back, and why? And what did they do to Twilight? She’s acting… acting…”

Her mother, voice strangely soft compared to her usual bombast, asked, “How is Twilight acting, Tia?”

That, at least, was easy to remember. Even with this horrid manipulation of her mind, Celestia doubted she’d ever unsee the look in Twilight’s gaze. Celestia turned to her mother, who hadn’t moved from the corner or opened her eyes. “She was… amorous. Towards me.”

A prolonged silence weighed upon her. Her mother didn’t move. Her father watched her from the bed, expression neutral. Of course, they had to be in shock. And why shouldn’t they be? It had certainly came as no small surprise to her. She leaned closer to her mother, ears turned forward in preparation.

Her mother chuckled. Her father followed suit.

Celestia blinked. “What is so funny?”

The flames of her mother’s mane danced as if in reflection of her amusement. At last, the mare opened her eyes and smiled at her. “Oh, Celestia. It took you this long. I knew you were aloof, but really?”

“W-what are you—?” Celestia cringed to the sound of her father’s soft laughter. She whirled to face him. “Stop it! Father, this is important!”

“I agree wholeheartedly. My dear child, have you any idea how long we’ve been waiting for you to notice? That pony has always been ‘amorous’ towards you.”

“That’s not true!” Celestia stomped and immediately regretted it. She was behaving like a startled foal. Clamping her teeth shut tight and taking a few breaths helped to calm the flames of her frustration… some. “Twilight doesn’t love me, not like that. I know she’s always looked up to me, but romance? No, not Twilight. She’s more like… like a child to me. A daughter.”

The bed shifted, the indentation that was her father moving to the side of the mattress before disappearing. “Oh, Celestia. Always looking ahead, and never at what is right in front of you.”

“He means you’re always missing the obvious,” her mother droned.

Celestia tensed at having been told something so blatant, but focused on the more immediate problem. “You can’t honestly tell me that you think Twilight—”

A hoof on her shoulder silenced her. She looked to it, and it faded, but her father’s image smiled out the corner of her eye. “We don’t mean to tease. It’s just that this has been a long time coming. You’ve fought for so long, it seems you’ve forgotten what the fight is all about. Twilight would be a wonderful choice for a mate, if you’d only stop and think about it.”

“And you should think about it,” her mother said. A glance failed to reveal any motion from her. “How long has it been since you’ve taken on a lover?”

Celestia found herself unable to answer. Not because she couldn’t, but because what they were suggesting seemed so… wrong. She stepped back from her father, facing his ever-shifting illusion of a form. “Why aren’t you taking this seriously? How could you possibly think that Twilight, my dear, innocent student, would ever look upon me that way?”

“Celestia—”

“No!” She turned away with a snort. Panic threatened to rise up like a beast from the depths of an ocean, but Celestia held it back and maintained her calm. There wasn’t anything wrong with her parents. They were just confused, that’s all. She paced the carpeted floor, keeping her scowl in check. “Twilight isn’t interested in that, at least not towards me. I know it. There’s something wrong with her. Is it changelings?”

The word stopped her in her tracks. She turned to the balcony, staring out the open door to the night sky. The beast threatened to rise again, and though she beat it back, she still felt her knees wobbling. “Could Twilight have been taken? Chrysalis, she could… could have…”

Her mother sighed. “Now you’re just being paranoid. You defeated Chrysalis, remember?”

Yes, she did remember. Chrysalis had been brought low. But before she’d left, she’d spoken of… what? Something akin to a warning, or a threat. If it had been a threat… “What did Chrysalis say?”

“Who cares what a changeling has to say?” Her mother scoffed. Judging by her haughty tone, she was probably coming out of her meditative state. “All they do is deceive, Celestia. Don’t take it to heart.”

“Yes, they do, don’t they?” But even as she said the words, Celestia frowned. It seemed so important now. She looked from star to star, trying to figure out what was wrong. Starswirl being… being something. Twilight acting so strange. Her parents treating it as though it were nothing. Come to think of it, they didn’t seem surprised by any of this.

Shouldn’t they be?

Her father’s kind voice broke through her thoughts. “Now Celestia, I know this seems sudden. We’ll help you. I’ll go talk with Twilight and smooth this out, and we’ll set up a nice evening for you two, how about that?”

He was at her side. He had a wing around her withers. It was comfortable, pleasant. But as she watched him out the corner of her eye, taking in his soft features and pleasant smile, she could only think one thing. “What is wrong with you?”

He blinked. A furrow of the brow, a thin line on his lips. The expression of one in deep thought. “I don’t understand, Celestia. What is stopping you from letting Twilight pursue you? Don’t you miss intimacy?”

Miss it? Miss…

Missing. Celestia turned her gaze back to the sky. Something was still missing. Twilight’s innocence? Starswirl. No, the problem with him had nothing to do with things missing. So why did she feel as if…?

Her mother was at her side, opposite her father. “Come on, Celestia. Let’s go inside and talk. Forget about Chrysalis and the changelings.”

Chrysalis. Chrysalis had said… what? Celestia couldn’t stop staring at the stars. Something flitted past her vision, something velvety purple. It made her sad, though she couldn’t fathom why. What was missing? Chrysalis. What had Chrysalis said? She closed her eyes and focused, even as her parents pulled her gently from the balcony. The changeling had been raving about something. Something Celestia failed at, something that seemed absurd…

They linger in darkness, begging for you to save them, shivering in the cold under the icy glare of a pale moon.

Her eyes snapped open, the air exploding from her lungs. Suddenly, Celestia felt cold. She jerked from her parents, who had almost brought her to the door, and ran for the balcony. Placing her forehooves on the railing, she craned her neck back and scoured the night sky.

“The moon. Where is the moon?” How long had it been since she’d last raised the moon? Lowered it? Her magic lit up in a flash as she reached into the night sky.

“Celestia!” Her father was at her side. “What are you doing? There’s no need for you to—”

“I can’t feel it.” She shook her father by the shoulders. “I can’t feel the moon! Where is it, Father? Where is it?”

His strong hooves grasped hers, stopping the shaking. “Celestia, you’re not making any sense. How did we go from Twilight being smitten to there being no moon out tonight?”

She jerked back from him as if stung. “Did you not hear me? I said there is no moon! It can’t have just disappeared!”

Her mother stepped closer, trying to get a wing around her withers. “Calm down, Celestia. It’s not important. Twilight is—”

“Not important? What is wrong with you two? Luna is—”

Celestia felt as if she’d been rammed by a stampeding buffalo. The familiar name echoed in her skull again and again. “Luna.” It felt good to say, like she’d been held back for ages and the dam had finally burst.

She focused her eyes upon the star-studded night sky. She had forgotten. Her only sister, lost for who knew how long? Along with her moon. Her ears folded back, and she felt her knees shaking. How could she have forgotten somepony so important? The pony she used to pine for every night, racked with guilt and loss and… and…

Luna had been banished to the moon. If the moon was gone…

“Who’s Luna?”

Veins turned to ice. Slowly, Celestia turned to her mother. The mare stared at her, ears perked and head tilted just slightly in a baffled expression. Her father possessed a look very similar. Her mother’s innocuous question loomed over her, a shadow forcing her to recognize the danger she was in.

She backed away from her parents. Her voice cracked, but she hardly noticed. “Don’t ask me that.”

Her mother’s eyebrows became a flat line. “You’re the one who brought it up.”

“Celestia, sweetheart?” Her father took a cautious step closer. “What’s wrong? Who is Luna?”

There it was again, that horrible question! Celestia shook her head. Her heart pounded like a hammer against her ribs. “You don’t know. You don’t know your own daughter.”

“What do you mean, ‘we don’t know you’?” Her mother’s wings fidgeted and flexed. “Of course we know you.”

“Luna,” she whispered. “Luna was your daughter. How can you forget her? H-how could I forget her?” Her breathing came in short gasps. She looked to the sky once more, but the moon remained hidden from her. “Oh, dear sister, I am so sorry.”

“You are unwell, Celestia.” She felt her father’s hoof on her shoulder. When had he gotten so close? “Come, let’s go inside. I’ll contact a doctor and—”

“I am not the one who is unwell!” She shoved his hoof away and backed to the railing. Her vision blurred with hot tears. “You too. I-it got to you too. Is all of Canterlot like this?”

“Celestia, please.”

That voice startled her out of her near-panic. It was so… frightened. Her mother should never sound like that. She gazed upon the mare, who sat with her forelegs folded to her chest. Her mother’s lips trembled as she leaned a little closer, eyes imploring. “Please. This isn’t a path you want to walk down.”

The hoof was back. Her father leaned in, running his neck alongside hers. It was so… so warm.

But what he said next made her feel empty.

“There is no Luna. There never was.”

No Luna. Did he really believe that? As his wing wrapped around her, her eyes remained locked on her mother’s. The mare nodded. Gently. Encouragingly. She smiled. But the fear remained in her eyes. Did they really want her to believe that her dear sister, the pony she’d nurtured and raised in their absence, didn’t exist? They wanted her to believe that—

Her own thoughts hit her. The panic came next, and then the spell. Her horn emitted a blast of golden yellow light, and the shockwave sent her parents sprawling into the room. Without apology or hesitation, she turned and leapt off the railing, wings spread wide and tears running down her cheeks.

“Celestia? Celestia, stop!”

“Don’t go!”

Their voices faded as she flew. Before long they were drowned out by the wind in her ears and her own sobs. Her parents had been gone for so long! What cruel puppet master was behind this horrid world, that they would use the likeness of them against her? Their voices, so perfect. Their bodies, exactingly recreated. But no less gone. Her memories were not false!

But the sound of them, the sight of them had been so sweet.

No. She wouldn’t go back. They were doppelgangers or, worse, revenants. Somepony was abusing them or at least their image to deceive her, and she would root them out. They’d pay for this insult! Abusing Starswirl, manipulating Twilight, using her parents against her… Whatever foul creature was behind this, it had crossed the line.

Yet, as her emotions began to wind down and her mind focused on the problem, her confidence dwindled. After rubbing her eyes free of stinging tears, she looked back to the dark city of Canterlot. Why had she not seen how… black the city had become? Almost as if it had died, the inhabitants little more than toys created to sing her praise.

Her ears twitched against the wind. A familiar sound… a bird call. Slowing, Celestia dropped down to land on a cloud. Not a moment later, a Seashore Nightingale flew past. She blinked as it dawned upon her that it may be the same one she’d seen earlier. It circled back over her head, so close she ducked on instinct. It sang its beautiful song, but the notes were fast, chaotic and harsh.

And then Celestia remembered; she’d not just seen it tonight. As the bird flew past once more, she ventured a guess as to its purpose, ludicrous though it seemed. “Have you been trying to tell me something?”

To her surprise, the bird instantly changed course. It dropped down to land on her horn, her head tilting down slightly under the added weight. Crossing her eyes, Celestia tried to focus on it. The creature watched her with piercing blue eyes. Perhaps it really could understand. Was it another diversion, sent by whatever forces were behind her troubles to keep her from learning the truth? Or maybe it was something else entirely. Celestia considered the bird’s brilliant blue and purple plumage and the way her horn sparkled from the stardust that continued to fall from it. It was truly a magnificent creature.

She had no idea what to do next, and she’d seen crazier things in her life than a helpful nightingale. “What are you trying to tell me?”

The bird leapt from her horn, jarring her somewhat, and flew off – due west. It sang as it flew, the song urgent. Celestia watched, uncertain. Why west? Maybe she really was going crazy, and the bird was just a bird.

But she no had idea how to solve her dilemma. The nightingale gave her a direction. And even if nothing came of it, at least she’d be away from the very real threat that resided somewhere in Canterlot. Her mind made up, Celestia spread her wings and launched off the cloud in pursuit.

Chapter V

The forest had a name. Celestia knew this for a fact, but she simply couldn’t recall what that name was. Or the name of the town nearby, even though she was sure she’d been there recently. Her head felt thick. A fog had settled over her mind, put in place by some malicious being, and trying to peer through that veil proved beyond her.

Yet the nightingale insisted, fluttering about her with its demanding calls before diving towards the edge of the woods. Celestia hesitated. Something waited out there, hidden in the shadows. She couldn’t recall what, couldn’t see it, but a deep part of her understood that this path led to danger. It was not a rational fear, but it was a powerful one regardless.

“What am I doing here?” She glanced to the northeast. Canterlot Castle was but a shadow on the horizon, pressed tight against the Lonely Mountain. Her parents were there. And Twilight. Surely they must be worried about her. Maybe if she—

Grunting, Celestia dove after the nightingale. Her eyes followed the bird as it darted among the trees, leading her gaze to… What’s this?

A pony, glaringly pink in the darkness. The mare looked oddly familiar. Seeing that the nightingale was perched on her back, Celestia ignored her reservations and drifted to a landing a few feet away. The young mare was giggling as if she’d just thought of Equestria’s greatest joke. She sat with her tail wagging and her eyes half-closed to make room for the beaming smile on her lips. The nightingale merely stood there, watching Celestia approach.

She couldn’t explain what it was, but Celestia sensed something different about this pony. Compared to Twilight, compared to her parents, the young mare seemed almost… fresh. Her coat shone in the darkness and her laugh was to Celestia’s ears what cake might be to her tongue. A genuine sound, an honest joy. And now that Celestia gazed upon this mysterious figure, she realized that up until now every pony she’d ever met had seemed hollow. Mannequins. Dolls made to say and act and believe as somepony else desired. But not this mare, with her bouncy curls.

Why?

“Excuse me, my little pony.”

The pink pony waved with childlike enthusiasm. “Hey there!”

Celestia waited for a bow that never came. The fact was… refreshing. “May I ask what you are doing here?”

The young mare chuckled. “Sure you can.” She swayed back and forth, humming a quick tune.

It took Celestia a few seconds to grasp her meaning. “Oh… um… What are you doing here?”

“Just giggling at the ghosties. But I gotta get back soon, the girls are gonna miss me.”

“Girls?” Celestia glanced at the nightingale. The bird countered with a blank stare. Returning her attention to the mare, Celestia asked, “Do you need any help?”

“Nope, but you sure seem to.” The mare reached back to pet the nightingale, which cooed pleasantly. “Just follow the birdie. She knows where to go.”

A blink. “Who are you?”

“I’m me, and you are you, unless you’re not you, but I don’t think so, because that would get confusing and you’re confused enough as it is. Just take it fast and don’t think too much! Oh!” The mare’s ears perked and began to twitch in wildly different directions. “Gotta go!”

Before Celestia could say anything more, the pink pony had darted off into the forest, the nightingale flying off her with a disgruntled squawk. The shadows consumed her brilliant colors within seconds.

“Wait!” Celestia followed without thinking, quickly becoming surrounded by tall trees and darkness. “It’s not safe in there!” The pony did not answer, but her singing voice echoed through the oppressive black.

Giggle at the ghostly…

“Please, come back!” The trees loomed over her from every direction, limbs reaching low as if to grasp her.

Guffaw at the grossly…

“Where are you?” Celestia searched frantically, heart thudding with a fear that the mare’s brightness would fade as it had for everypony else she’d known.

Crack up at the creepy…

The forest blurred. The nightingale sang. She needed to leave, she had to keep going! “Come back. Come back!”

Whoop it up with the weepy…

The underbrush grew more dense, spiked vines snapping at her passing and leaving small cuts across her chest and legs. The bushes became like walls, but she tore through them in a frantic rush!

Chortle at the kooky…

She was running. Why was she running? There had been a pony, a mare, and she’d been beautiful! But why… why… The nightingale flew overhead.

Snortle at the spooky…

Danger. Voices in the shadows. Ponies pleading, ponies threatening, ponies crying. Celestia didn’t know where she was anymore, or why. The nightingale… she just had to follow the nightingale. Why was she following the—?

She burst into a clearing, stumbling to a stop as the voices and laughter and ethereal music ceased. Knees shaking, chest heaving, Celestia gazed upon a small hill covered in brown, dry grass. The stars above did little to brighten the place, which appeared to be cloaked in its own shadow.

A vague shape stood at the top of the hill, hidden by the unnatural darkness. Cautiously, Celestia approached. Every step felt as though she were lifting lead weights, and though the incline was shallow, it took all her determination to keep climbing it. The creature at the top of the hill… just seeing it filled her with an inexplicable dread. Was it casting some kind of spell upon her, hoping to weaken her or frighten her into leaving?

“Hello, Celestia.”

Her ears perked to a voice both familiar and alien at once, layered with a guttural growl and a shrill whistling in the breaths. “Starswirl?”

“Yes, Celestia,” the figure replied, his voice like rocks grinding together. “It is me.”

She paused, peering in an effort to make out more than a silhouette. “How do I know that for sure?”

It said nothing for a time, and every passing second weighed heavier upon Celestia’s mind. Would it strike? Flee? Or do nothing at all?

“Use your horn.”

Such an obvious, simple solution. Yet Celestia found herself hesitating. “I… I don’t think I want to.”

“Use your horn, or go back home.”

Why couldn’t he do it? Why didn’t she? She thought about it, prepared herself to do it, but… the magic wouldn’t come. Perhaps she should go home. Maybe there she wouldn’t have to fear this strange creature that claimed to be—

“Starswirl is dead,” she whispered, pushing back the doubts that may or may not be her own. “How can you be Starswirl if you are dead?”

The figure shifted as if to turn. Its face remained invisible, but she could feel its eyes upon her. “Use your horn and see the truth, or go back to Canterlot and live in blissful ignorance. I will say no more until you’ve decided.”

Silence fell upon the clearing. It was deeper than any silence she could recall, disturbed by neither wind nor creature. Even the nightingale had gone silent, lost somewhere beyond her vision. Celestia licked her dry lips and steadied her fluttering heart. A simple light spell. More basic than anything else a pony might try. But Celestia faced a powerful sense of wrongness in the act.

No, not the act. In Starswirl. Did she really want to know? If she didn’t like what she found out, would she be able to do anything about it? Starswirl was dead. She knew this to be true deep down in her heart. It had happened long ago, longer than most ponies today could ever realize. For a time it had seemed as though he were alive, but…

She growled and shook as if to rid herself of water. “No. I won’t succumb to this… this malaise. I won’t think about it.” Thinking about it delayed the inevitable. So the inevitable became act, and she lit her horn.

Starswirl stood before her, withered and frail in the pale light, his features rendered gaunt by the shadows. The familiar hat was gone, and his beard soaked in something dark. The liquid dripped onto the grass, spreading its taint everywhere it went. And with her awareness of it came the coppery scent Celestia had always loathed, the scent of fear and hate and anger and loss. His eyes stared back at her in sunken, dark sockets as he sucked in slow, grating breaths.

The sight tore at Celestia’s heart. “Oh, my old friend. What happened to you?”

A slow, rattling breath. “You killed me.”

“Killed you?” She pulled back, wings fidgeting and ears tucked. “You were my student, my dear friend. I wouldn’t.”

“Then why do you feel such guilt?”

“I… I don’t know.” His words were true, the emotion roiled within her. But she would never…

“You could have stopped it. I warned you it was coming. I did everything I could to convince you.” His words were soft, but his eyes hard. “Why didn’t you listen to me, Celestia?”

Her chest felt caught in a vice. “I don’t understand! What did you tell me?”

He leaned forward, the blood pouring from his beard and down the hill. “The griffons, Celestia. Remember the griffons.”

“The griffons? What do the—?” But she knew. Had always known? A famine, a necromancer, blame in every direction. Assassination. Peace talks falling apart, an invasion. So many details were lost, but Celestia didn’t think them truly gone. More like they were hidden, the curtain parting just enough to let her know there was something there.

And what she saw burned her like a brand in the gut. So many ponies and griffons dead, so much anger and hate, so much violence. “Th-this… Why am I remembering this?” Her gaze met Starswirl’s. “What does it have to do with you?”

He hardly moved save for a shudder that racked his body with every other breath. “What set the blaze?”

She shook her head. “I… I don’t—”

As if a cord had been cut, Starswirl dropped to the dead grass. His eyes turned glossy and blank, the breathing ceased, and the blood seeped into the earth. Celestia gaped at the scene, the air stuck in her throat at the image of her friend as she’d found him so, so long ago.

A knife, curved and dark, protruded from the back of his neck.

“No…” The blood formed around her hooves, never quite touching them. “No. Please, I don’t want to see this.”

Starswirl’s voice arose from all around her, seemingly conjured from the air itself. “No?” The shadows surrounding Celestia began to undulate, a swarm of snakes just beyond her vision. “You came to this place. You asked the questions. If you didn’t want to see, didn’t want to know, then why are you here?”

“Because the world is wrong!” She stepped back from the corpse. The blood now covered the entire hill in a thin layer of foulness. Yet it remained clear of her hooves, retreating from her steps like a living entity bashful of her touch. “Everything is wrong, and I know it. But this…” She forced her eyes upon Starswirl’s body. “Th-this cannot be my fault.”

“You need not know the truth, Celestia.” Starswirl’s ghostly voice was soothing, gentle. “The truth is only agony. Go home. Be content.”

“B-but I…” Celestia reeled from the heady scent that consumed her focus. “It needs to be fixed. I can’t live like that. I have to—” It took all her will to bring her gaze back to Starswirl’s body. She remembered his angry glares. She could not recall his exact words, but the fierceness of his tone remained clear as day. He had warned her that something would happen, something with the griffons. What had he warned her about? A threat. An enemy. Something—

“Celestia. It’s alright. Go home and forget. It is nothing you need concern yourself about.”

“You’re wrong.” The blood flowed away from her as she took step by shaky step closer to the corpse. “It’s n-not alright. I must protect Equestria. I must protect my p-ponies. That sometimes means being hurt.” Her hoof reached tentatively for the knife. The squirming shadows grew restless, black tendrils waving in the edge of her vision.

“Starswirl. What did I do to you?”

The instant she touched the knife, the blood surged. It got on her hooves, climbed her legs, roiled and splashed. The revolting feeling of it, warm against her sides, made her retch. She attempted to fly, all her instincts screaming at her to get away, but the sticky mass congealed on her coat and sucked her down.

Her scream pierced the night air. “Starswirl! Make it stop!” The blood splashed against her chest, lapped over her back. She lit her horn and fired a repelling beam of magic, but it passed through as if the liquid were mere illusion. Yet it was no illusion; it rose higher and higher, past her withers, climbing up her neck, encasing her. “Starswirl!”

Blood coated her mouth, but didn’t invade it. She searched frantically for something, anything to save her, but there was nothing. It crossed her nostrils; the heavy, coppery scent made her gag. Her wings were stilled, pulled down by the clingy, gooey crimson. Just before it reached her eyes, she stole one last glance at the corpse at her hooves.

Why?

Images flashed through her mind. Guards bursting into her court. Starswirl’s tower looming. The mage lying on the floor, face down. A knife sticking from the back of his neck.
Her heart sizzled agonizingly as the image burned its way into her. Who did this?

More images, yet they were blurred. A trial? No, a council. Indecipherable shouting.

War.

Smoke and fire and anger. Burning anger. Something blue and glowing like a mighty star, piercing her eyes and setting her brain on fire.

What is that?

Blood. More blood. Anger. Marching among the steppes, an army stretching for miles. Banners, blades, bows. Rage.

I went to war?

Rage. An army defending a city. Blood. Feathers and smoke and blood and rage and hate and screams.

But Equestria doesn’t…

A face. A male griffon, staring up at her. Young, armor loose, axe trembling in his grip. Golden hoofguards slamming him to the ground. Anger. Screams. Fury.

Anger.

No more.

Rage.

No more!

Blood and screams and pleas.

Make it stop!

Something pulling her away. Feathery wings, an embrace.

Blue.

Make it stop!

“Make it stop!”

She sat up, the scream lifting her from where she lay. Cool air. Gentle breeze, trees all around. Stars.

It took several seconds and many rapid, gasping breaths for Celestia to realize she was no longer in the war. The moment she did, she collapsed, fetlocks covering her face as a sob tore through her body. “What have I done? Oh, Starswirl, w-what have I done?”

For petty wrath. Because her beloved student and friend had been murdered in his lab. Because he’d tried to tell her, again and again, that a danger existed. She’d dismissed his fears, thought he was being paranoid. Her lack of caution led to his death, and her vengeance-fueled rage had led to even more bloodshed. So much more…

A cooing sound drifted into her ears, almost like a caress. Lifting her head, Celestia discovered the nightingale beside her, its head bowed. She was tempted to grab the thing in an embrace, but instead she just let her chin rest on her fetlocks and let a few more weak sobs out. “I loved him like a son. Did you know that?”

The nightingale turned its head to her, watching with unblinking blue eyes. It appeared strangely solemn for a wild animal. Maybe it really could understand.

“It wasn't war. It was slaughter. I… I really did it, didn’t I? How could I forget something so horrid?” Her gaze drifted to the area in front of her. Starswirl’s body was gone. She reached out to feel at the grass where it had lain, no longer dead but soft and cool. “I was so angry. I let emotion take over. Starswirl, I think he’d have been disappointed in me for that.” She closed her eyes to recall his smiling face. “I wanted to make it better. I didn’t want to be remembered as a warlord. It was so long ago.

“Do you…” She cast a shy glance at the quiet bird. “Do you think he’d forgive me if he saw Equestria now?”

The bird stiffened its posture, head rising and eyes boring into hers. She felt as if it had some message for her, although she couldn’t fathom what that message might be. “I know, Equestria is in a terrible state. Old friends coming back to life, students proclaiming their love for me when I know they don’t feel that. My parents…”

A thought occurred to her. Was the place she’d come from really even Equestria? Everything had been wrong. Off. Improper.

The shadows of the forest swirled as though alive, and Celestia sat up quickly when she noticed. Was it reacting to something? She turned her head to study the surrounding apparition, pausing only for a moment to dry her tears with a wingtip. “What is this place? Why did I even come here?” She looked to the nightingale. “Is what just happened even related to the troubles besetting Equestria?”

The bird flew in a circle above her, stardust drifting off its tail in sparkling waves. It sang and danced in the air, gradually moving farther away. Celestia understood its intent quickly, but hesitated to stand. She could follow, and perhaps she’d find more forgotten memories if she did. Having those back would be… well, if her recent experience was anything to go by, perhaps it wouldn’t be ‘nice.’ And would Equestria be helped at all by her getting those memories back?

The shadows in the corner of her vision squirmed. Of course not. Memories are formless, pointless things. Equestria is real, and it needs my help now. I can’t go gallivanting off on some selfish quest when my ponies need me.

Celestia nodded firmly and turned away from the nightingale, but paused as she gazed at the darkness. Had those thoughts been hers? Were the things behind this situation trying to dissuade her? Or perhaps it was the nightingale. It might be the enemy’s puppet, tugging her along on some misguided adventure while Equestria fell further and further into the abyss.

But if that were the case…

It must be. This journey does nothing for Equestria.

Despite the thoughts, she looked to the hill where Starswirl had once been. He’d gone, and the hill appeared as healthy as any place in Equestria. It looked… peaceful. A war had been started, thousands had died, but this area had healed. The wound set upon her mind didn’t feel so raw, and as much as she loathed her past actions, she was glad to have relearned something. It had been an important time. Without it, she’d been missing a piece of her life. Would she even be the pony she was today without that horrible lesson?

“I must learn more. I can’t help Equestria if I can’t help myself.” She turned back to the nightingale, which promptly darted into the forest once more. Celestia followed its song, not hesitating to enter the treeline even as the shadows coiled and writhed. Her confident show seemed to pay off, for they fled from her approach. She lit her horn to aid her steps, and this made them retreat all the more.

Yet they still lingered, swirling and coiling among the trunks and limbs and leaves. Celestia paid them little mind, confident that her light would hold them at bay. But even as it did so, she had to wonder. Was the forest cursed? Under the control of some malevolent being? It may even be the same wickedness that had Equestria so thoroughly in its clutches.

And her memories had been hidden here. Why?

She couldn’t be certain, but she could fight it. If she got all her memories back, maybe things would be clear again. There might be a specific recollection, a bit of info that the darkness wished to protect from her. Celestia had to believe this, for why else would the darkness of this place be so determined to keep her from her past? There was a truth here, and she would recover it.

The truth would be guarded. That’s what Starswirl was, she assumed; a guard to protect her from the war. And not just the war, but also his death. That lay on her hooves, even if indirectly. Even now, with the memory settling into the nooks and crannies of her mind where it belonged, she felt the sting in her heart. She was responsible. How many more things would she find herself responsible for when this was all said and done? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, prompting her to ruffle her wings in agitation.

A rise in the volume of the nightingale caught her attention, and she took stock of her surroundings. Her ears folded back at the sight of withered trees, their trunks blackened as if a fire had come too close. The farther she walked, the fewer leaves she saw. The grass grew brown, and then black. Gradually, black became the white of ash. Unlike before, when the forest had closed in on her, the trees were spread apart enough to let her see a great distance. This allowed her to view the glittery tail of the nightingale as it flitted among the limbs, always just close enough to be clear and easily identifiable, and always moving in the same direction.

West. Celestia didn’t know how she knew that, but know it she did.

Something appeared in the distance. She noticed it before she could make it out, save that it was too low and wide to be another tree. Her pace picked up, her eagerness to know more taking hold. The shadows had retreated entirely now, leaving her alone to explore this new discovery. Soon she even passed up the nightingale, which stood atop a nearby tree branch in silence.

It was a wooden platform, and on it sat a figure surrounded by four pillars. Soon Celestia was able to identify the figure as a blue griffon with a brown head. Something black was settled upon her shoulders, round and hard to identify at a distance. Her heartbeat began a drum in her ears as her suspicions were confirmed.

Dova Sposoba watched her approach with wide, owlish eyes. “Celestia. You c-came.”

The item around her neck was a rubber wheel. What was she doing with something like that? And why was she— “Dova, why are you chained to those pillars like a common criminal?”

The rattle of the chains echoed in the still air as Dova lurched forward. “I didn’t do it, I swear!”

“Calm down.” Celestia sat and made a placating gesture with her hoof. “What are you accused of?” And why would the accusers decide to imprison her way out here?

Dove didn’t pull back, straining against her shackles as she cast her pleading eyes upon Celestia. “Please. I know we had our differences. Starswirl didn’t like me, but you can’t condemn me just because of that!”

“Condemn you? Why would I—?” The words caught in her throat as comprehension dawned. Dova was another guardian. Another memory lay trapped here, and somehow it had to do with her old friend. Her heart sank as she thought on the most recent visits she’d had with the griffoness. Had she been nothing but a puppet all along?

Dova finally stepped back, the chains going slack but never touching the floor of the platform. She reached up as if to grasp the wheel around her shoulders, but her bindings wouldn’t let her talons reach that high. Her upper arms were squeezed together so tightly Celestia imagined they were cutting off her blood flow.

“Think about what you are doing, Princess,” Dova whispered. “Think about who you want to be, who Starswirl would want you to be. Is this it?”

“I don’t understand.” Celestia took a tentative step forward. “What did I do?”

With an ungriffonlike whine, Dova pulled away from Celestia’s approach. “You don’t have any evidence. You can’t prove I did it! Equestrians value fair trials! Think about the example you’re setting your people!”

“Dova, please!” Celestia raised her hooves once more. “You’re babbling! Just calm down and—”

“I was your friend!” Gone was the fear, replaced by a grimace. Dova twisted and shook and fought her bindings. Her growls and snarls grated in Celestia’s ears. “You can’t do this to me! The King will have your head for this!”

“Enough!” Celestia slammed both forehooves into the ground, the force of the twin blows making the trees shake all around them.

Silence came over the forest. She ground her teeth together as she met Dova’s gaze, taking in the ambassador’s scowl. It was then that Celestia became aware of her seething breaths, her tense wings, and the roiling sun within. Her veins burned with the desire to lash out at something! Yet she had no idea why she was angry, and that gave her pause. These feelings tearing into her head…

What was she trying to remember?

“This is very griffon of you, Princess.”

Something about the cold, hard way Dova said that caught Celestia’s attention. She felt… ill. Like a poison had entered her body by the ears and threatened to twist her insides into ugly knots. “D-Dova, what—”

“You were wrong.” The corner of Dova’s beak curved in a half-smirk. “You’re more like a griffon than you think.”

Before Celestia could fully process the statement, a spark lit from seemingly nowhere. An instant later, the rubber wheel around her friend was in flames. By the time Celestia registered what was happening, Dova’s shriek pierced her. She jerked back, covering her ears as the fire rapidly engulfed Dova’s head. Feathers curled and melted as she jerked and twisted and wailed, the rubber dripping onto her body and carrying the horrible fire with it.

“Dova!” Mind finally catching up to the horror, Celestia lit her horn and attempted to conjure water. The liquid formed on command and splashed over Dova’s head in a thick deluge, but the fire continued as if the water wasn’t even there. The helpless prisoner continued to screech and twist, the flames climbing down her body in a relentless march.

How could the… oh, Goddess, was the fire enchanted? Celestia tried an ice spell next, and was treated to a visual display defying logic as the ice and the flames existed in tandem on Dova’s stiffened body. The fire licked and danced within the ice, reflected a thousand times in the creases and facets, and though Dova could not move a muscle, her screams could still be heard, muffled and desperate.

“No no no…” Celestia shook her head frantically as the ice cracked, then shattered. The shrieks reached a fevered pitch as Dova continued to squirm. Adding her own scream to the chorus, Celestia fired a beam of magic at one of the chains holding her friend down; it passed through as if it weren’t there at all. “No! Dova!”

She acted without thinking, charging onto the platform and reaching for her friend. The moment her hooves touched Dova’s shoulders, she shrieked. The flames snatched her up eagerly, consuming her forelegs, her chest, her wings, her head, flowing over her as it were a living thing hungry for more flesh to consume. Fire, once her most earnest ally, now became her torturer. She attempted to pull away from the searing pain, but her forelegs had become encased in the bubbling rubber. Her wails joined those of Dova as the scalding heat pierced her brain—

Dova, fighting her ponies in some far off city among the steppes. Pony and griffon bodies surrounded her. More griffons than ponies by far.

Though all reality burned, Celestia managed clarity. Dova, why?

A pony’s eyes vanished amongst blood and claws. Dova dodged a green bolt of magic. She fired a crossbow at the assailant. The unicorn fell from the rampart, a shaft in his neck.

Dova, it’s me! Stop this!

A pegasus swooped down. Dova surprised her by leaping into the attack at the last minute, dodging the spear as her beak tore into the pony’s wings. She kicked him the rest of the way down with a paw, sending him skull-first into the stones.

Flames licked at the scene. Celestia howled as her mind roasted.

Dova paused to stare below the ramparts. The army, the product of an Equestrian war machine, filled the steppes like a tidal wave of iron and flesh and steel. Magic flew alongside arrows, mighty siege engines lobbed flaming boulders, the air shook with the war cry of tens of thousands of soldiers. Dova’s face went slack, her eyes widening as she surely recognized the inevitable outcome of the battle.

Celestia approached. Somehow, in some way, through all she could feel was searing flame, she approached at a speed like lightning. Fury joined her agony, curses on her cracking lips, hatred stabbing into her soul with all the ferocity of the fire now consuming her.

And still she managed to cry out. “Look out!”

Her friend, bloodied and beaten, looked up too late. They collided, and Celestia’s vision was consumed by smoke.

When it parted, they were in a courtyard. Dova sat, chained to a familiar platform. Celestia writhed and screamed even as she put the rubber necklace upon the griffon. Shame. Anger. Guilt. Fury. Agony. It all roiled within and without, threatening to consume her. The army of ponies cheered and called for blood, called for fire, called for vengeance.

Celestia delivered. She felt her horn light up without warning, and Dova was once more consumed. She shrieked, she wreathed, she pleaded and begged, and Celestia joined her in the dance of agony and rage and fire.

Slowly, Celestia realized that the only screams in her ears were her own. Her body no longer burned, the air was no longer consumed in smoke. Her shrieks eased, leaving her panting on her side and her throat scratchy. She could only stare across the dead grass, mind gradually soaking up the fresh, grotesque imagery. Fresh tears streamed down her face as the mess of memories coalesced into one simple fact.

“I k-killed her.” The sob tore into her already stinging throat. “I had no proof, and… and I killed her!”

It was only war.

Yes, war. A war brought about because diplomacy failed, because she failed. Starswirl’s assassination had broken something inside her. And Dova, she’d disappeared that same night, hadn’t she? Celestia had been so certain of Dova’s involvement, and when she’d seen her at Byeliye Skali…

She didn’t want to believe it. To think that her hooves were stained with that much blood, that she would react to anything with such wanton violence? But the memory was locked in her skull once more, firm and unwavering. She’d done these things. Dova had been captured alive just to be executed by necklacing. She’d lit the flame with her own horn! Trembles rushed up and down her body as the screams echoed in her head, banging relentlessly against the inside of her skull.

But the worst of it was a lingering doubt, an appalling awareness. Was Dova guilty? Had she spent years in Canterlot, befriending Celestia and earning an honorable, respected reputation, just so that she could act when called upon? It seemed like such an outlandish idea now, but looking back, Celestia had been confident. And with that confidence, she’d enacted revenge against an old friend whose greatest crime may have been only to defend her home from the Equestrian invaders.

Invaders.

Celestia hid her face beneath her wing as more dots were connected within. She had invaded. It wasn’t a response to griffon aggression, the Equestrians were the aggressors! “Oh, Father, what did I do?”

There had to have been some evidence that the invasion was warranted, there had to be. She could remember the growing war fervor, the calls from the public for action, the anger and the frustration. Yet the one thing she could not recall was any proof that the griffons were responsible for Starswirl’s death, the beginning of a long line of events that brought the fury of a nation upon them.

An unnatural cold seeped over Celestia as something else dawned upon her: she had no idea what happened to the griffons. Were there any left? Had she exterminated them in some sort of hideous genocide? She knew, somehow, that she’d won the war. Beyond that, everything was blank.

Celestia didn’t want to think about what she’d done. She wasn’t sure she deserved to think at all. So she just lay there, her body heavy with her guilt. Her mind struggled to avoid the hideous truth of her past, and yet the more she fought it the more she thought about it. Starswirl insisting there was a griffon threat. Dova pleading her innocence before her immolation. Armies on the march, armies under her command. So much death. So much destruction.

Gradually, half-blinded by tears, she turned her eyes to the stars overhead. They seemed so beautiful. More beautiful than she deserved to witness.

Go home. Forget your sins. There is no need to wallow in this grief. No need to know more.

“No… need?” The idea danced in her head, strange and alien and not her own. She could feel her frown intensifying, a tightness forming in her jaw. “That’s not true.”

Go home. Nopony need remember your faults. Go be at peace.

“I don’t deserve peace.” With a grunt, Celestia beat back the weight of her misery and sat upright. “These things aren’t meant to be forgotten.”

But they are. They hurt so much. Nopony wants to hurt. Nopony would blame you for wanting to escape the pain.

“I would.”

Though her legs shook slightly, she managed to stand on all fours once more. She took in the forest, expecting the area might have been ‘cleansed’ as Starswirl’s hill had. Yet, while the grass had indeed grown back and leaves adorned the trees, the vegetation remained sparse and thin. It all appeared unhealthy, as if recovering from some recent trauma, and Celestia found she could still see a great distance through the trees.

Dova and the platform, however, were gone.

Now more than ever, Celestia was certain of her path. She imagined that things would only grow worse from here on in, but she couldn’t stop now. Though forgiveness for her sins was not possible, she might still find the lost memory that could help her fight the darkness. When everything was right again, her memories back where they belonged and the shadows banished to where they came from, then she would begin her penance.

But first, where was her guide? She looked about the trees until the nightingale came into view, perched quietly upon a nearby tree limb. “There you are. Come, we must be going.”

The bird did not move. Its round eyes were set upon something. Something… over Celestia’s shoulder? She turned and felt a tightness in her heart.

Twilight Sparkle stood but a few yards away, posture low and tail between her legs. Darkness swirled about the young unicorn, who looked up at Celestia with tear-filled eyes. The whites of one of those eyes had turned a deep purple, the iris a bright yellow. Wretched and shaking, Twilight opened her mouth to speak in a trembling, whining voice.

“P-Princess. Help me.”

Chapter VI

“Twilight?” Celestia took a cautious step closer to her. “What happened to you?”

Her beloved student blinked, and her eyes returned to normal. Yet this didn’t help her appearance: mane wild, body shaking from hoof to ear tip, and shadowy tendrils swirling about her body like writhing snakes. Twilight dropped to her knees and heaved a shuddering breath. “I f-feel wrong. Celestia… please…”

What in the wide world of Equestria? The shadows were like… like parasites. The sight of them crawling along Twilight’s coat sent chills across the whole of Celestia’s body. She had to stop them. Whatever they were doing, she would save her student! Horn shining bright, she hurried to Twilight.

That alone was enough. The air flew from her lungs when the squirming blackness fled Twilight’s body and the brilliant light of Celestia's magic. With an echoing gasp, Twilight leapt forward, kicking a hind leg as if to shake off the last of the darkness. She turned to look at the black, shoulders swaying with her slow breaths. “They’re gone?”

“Only keeping their distance.” Celestia paused beside her and studied Twilight, checking for injuries or signs that the shadow remained connected somehow. Twilight’s cheek turned a bright pink, but she said nothing under Celestia’s scrutiny.

Although not convinced of Twilight’s safety, Celestia finished her examination and stepped back. “Twilight, what are you doing out here?”

“I don’t know.” Twilight scanned their surroundings, ears flat against her skull and shoulders hunched. “You left and I got worried. I c-can feel something inside me. It’s like I’m always being watched, but… but from the inside.” She met Celestia’s gaze with glassy eyes and a trembling chin. “I’m sorry about what happened. I’m sorry. I knew it was wrong but I… I couldn’t…”

What happened? Celestia realized that, yes, something did happen between them. But what? That damnable fog had rolled back over her mind while she’d been busy with Dova. Even with it marring her memories, however, Celestia knew that there was something between her student and herself now, something that made her hesitate to put her wing around Twilight’s shoulder.

Twilight, head bowed, raised her eyes to Celestia. “There’s something wrong with me. Right?”

Celestia considered the question and all she knew. Admittedly, it wasn’t much. Something wanted her to go back to Canterlot and abandon this… quest? Whatever it was. It didn’t want her to regain her memories, and it seemed to have a varied arsenal. An arsenal, she realized, that Twilight may be a part of. She leveled her gaze upon her student, who couldn’t return the look. “You didn’t answer my question, Twilight. How did you come to be here?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight repeated. She spoke slowly, carefully, as if picking over each word. “I just… did. I remember wanting to be with you, wanting to apologize. I was scared that you were angry, and also because I felt like I’d been… forced to do things. So I started walking. I don’t know how, but I knew which way to go.” She paused, brow furrowed. She stared at the ground for some time, her jaw working in a slow, rotating motion as she ruminated.

“It’s all a blur since the archives.” Twilight looked up to Celestia, lips pursed. “There’s something wrong with me.”

It was possible, but Celestia found herself doubting the suggestion. She recalled the shadows clinging to her student like a parasite, and the memory made her shiver. Turning her head, she examined the bare trees and dried grass of the forest. It all appeared so ominous, much more so than it had before. And still the darkness wriggled beyond the light of her horn. Such disturbing behavior…

“No, Twilight.” Celestia forced her lips into a reassuring smile. “I don’t think there is anything wrong with you.”

Twilight shuffled her hooves, ears rising only slightly. Her quiet “Really?” was underscored by clear doubt.

Overcoming her anxiety, Celestia wrapped a wing about her prized student. “Really. It is not you or I who are ‘wrong’. Rather, I believe it is the… world.” She didn’t blame Twilight for her confused frown. It did sound silly, didn’t it? “I don’t believe this is Equestria. Not anymore, at least.”

Twilight bowed her head, face scrunched up, but only for a second. “If we’re no longer in Equestria, then where are we? How did we get here?”

“I do not know.” She scanned the trees, looking for a familiar sight. There, the nightingale. It stood upon a branch, watching them with a curious tilt of its head. “But I know something that might.”

Upon sighting the bird, Twilight scowled. “Isn’t that the same nightingale that wouldn’t stop bugging you before bed?”

“Indeed.” Celestia didn’t remember what Twilight was referring to, but it felt true, and that had to stand for something. “I believe it is guiding me to an answer. I must keep following it.” She stepped away from Twilight, retracting her wing as she did. Turning to face her student properly, Celestia spoke in her practiced lecturer’s tone. “I have already encountered two guardians in these woods. It is likely that this path is a dangerous one. If you would join me, Twilight, I would not stop you, but I ask that you consider the threat seriously before making a decision.”

Standing tall, Twilight matched her gaze with an expression of utmost seriousness. “No danger will keep me from helping, Celestia.”

“You are certain?” At Twilight’s nod, Celestia smiled. “Very well. I must admit, it brings me comfort to know I won’t be alone.”

Twilight beamed up at her, only to cringe. For the briefest moment, her eyes lost their color, becoming almost grey, and Twilight wobbled in place. Celestia’s pulse increased and she took a step closer, but before she could act the effects passed and Twilight stood tall once more, though her face held a grimace.

Celestia examined her student, but could find no sign of alternation or damage. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah.” Twilight shook as if a chill wind had blown across her back. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”

As much as Celestia wished to press the issue, the calling of the nightingale reminded her that they were on a mission. “Come, we must go. But do inform me if you feel it again.”

They resumed the journey through the woods, the nightingale weaving and bobbing in the air ahead. Its motions were swift and darting, and Celestia had the distinct impression it was trying to hurry them along. But she wouldn’t move with haste, largely because she could see a weariness in Twilight’s steps and did not wish to burden her student. After all, she’d gone from Canterlot Castle to this strange place in… how long had it been?

Only now did she realize that the world was still engulfed in night. Pursing her lips, Celestia tried to gauge the time. Normally this would be an easy task, but now?

Her conversation with her parents returned to her like a tidal wave. She’d not raised the sun in so long. Had somepony taken over that duty? If this wasn’t Equestria, then perhaps it didn’t matter. Celestia could be certain of nothing. For the sake of her own comfort, she reached out to her beloved charge.

A warmth bloomed within her. But it wasn’t the soothing touch of a distant sun she had long been accustomed to. No, this was a cascading heat, a fire that engulfed her! Celestia’s body went stiff as she took in the blaze, too startled by the onslaught to move on. This… this was wrong. Everything was wrong!

Celestia did not burn. Indeed, she did not feel any pain from the touch of the sun. And yet the energy filled her to the point of nearly overwhelming her control. She kept it trapped with her magic, but only barely, and if she released it incorrectly…

“Princess?”

The connection broke as might a rope pulled too taught, and Celestia was left with naught but a deep, icy chill. Unsteady on her hooves, she looked to Twilight, who watched her with wide eyes. “Y-yes?”

“Are you okay?” Twilight peered at her. “Your eyes were yellow for a moment, like when you’re channeling powerful magic.”

“It is nothing. Just testing myself in preparation for what may come.” It wouldn’t do to worry her. Fortunately, she seemed to accept this explanation. As they followed the eager song of the nightingale, Celestia pondered the meaning of her latest discovery. There’d been so much energy in that faint touch. The sun had never reacted to her in such a way. Worse, she’d not been able to pinpoint its location. But how could that be?

She could still draw strength from it. She would have to be cautious and regulate the magic. If approached in the wrong way, that power may well destroy the entire forest, to say nothing of Twilight and their feathered guide. If only she could grasp why the sun was behaving so strangely. She didn’t dare attempt to raise it under these circumstances. If it filled her with so much energy, what would it do to the landscape?

“You said there were guardians.” Twilight warily eyed the ever-shifting shadows. “Guardians of what?”

Another conundrum. Celestia wondered how to explain her situation to Twilight without sounding like a madmare. Her lack of ideas failed to encourage.

No, wait. She shook her head, hoping to clear it. A trickling fear made itself known as she struggled to recall all the circumstances. She remembered Starswirl and Dova clearly; it seemed having ‘dealt with’ them had fortified her memories of them against the creeping fog of her mind. She knew she’d had some strange encounter with her parents, had made a great revelation. But… what revelation?

Now that she really thought on it, Celestia couldn’t remember entering this forest. Oh, she remembered why, the nightingale dancing in the air of ahead of them made certain of that. But the act of arriving, of first setting hoof into this place? Lost in the shadows.

“Princess?”

“I apologize.” Celestia cast aside her meandering worries to give Twilight what she hoped was a soothing smile. “I’m just a little distracted.”

Her student flinched and glanced away. “Am I being a bother?”

With a cluck of her tongue, Celestia shook her head. “None of that, my little pony. You are never a bother. No, what distracts me is our situation.” Her focus returned to the path ahead, but of the next guardian she saw no sign. “I…” Again, how to phrase this? “It has become clear that somepony has tampered with my mind.” Celestia held her breath as she watched Twilight out the corner of her eye.

But rather than a brow furrowed in doubt, she saw pupils shrinking and ears folding back. Twilight licked her lips before whispering, “Then it’s happening to both of us?”

Both…?

Of course, Twilight was having issues of her own, wasn’t she? She’d be more inclined to believe Celestia, given the things she’d already described. She felt a little guilty taking extra comfort in their similar experiences. Pushing that thought down, she tried another encouraging smile. “It’s alright, Twilight. We’ll solve this. Together.”

Though her hunched posture betrayed her worry, Twilight at least returned the smile. Her cheeks lit up for a moment, but the mysterious embarrassment faded when she looked ahead. “Celestia?”

Celestia followed her student’s gaze, blinking at a curious sight. It seemed somepony had bothered to place a large table in the middle of the forest, complete with three chairs. Except the proximity was too close. Shouldn’t she have seen it earlier?

As they approached, the nightingale landed in the center of the table. It cooed at them and preened until they arrived, at which point it flew up into the trees. Celestia followed its path, only to pause when something appeared at the edge of her vision. Her heart sank at the sight of a mane like the sea and a coat of midnight blue. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the knife piercing her heart.

“So,” she softly spoke, “you are the next guardian.”

Her father’s voice was contemplative. Curious. “Is that what you wish to call me? I remember a time when I was ‘Papa’.”

Twilight gasped, and when Celestia looked down she found her student prostrate, muzzle down in the dry grass. “Your Majesty! It’s an honor to meet you again.”

He smiled at Twilight’s display. “Twilight Sparkle. Always a pleasure to speak with a prodigal pony such as yourself. Won’t you join your mentor and me in our little discussion?”

Grinning from ear to ear, Twilight hurried to the left chair. As soon as she’d settled, she looked to Celestia. Her eagerness faded almost immediately. “What’s wrong, Princess?”

The fact she didn’t know only made Celestia hesitate more. She looked to her father, his form fading in his seat so that she saw nothing but a faint shifting of the light. It was even less appealing with the black writhing behind him. It appeared almost as if her father had been absorbed by the darkness itself. Despite her discomfort, she slowly settled herself in the seat beside Twilight.

“It appears we’re all here,” her father said, voice light and jovial. “What’s the matter, Celestia? I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Celestia tensed. She could feel his eyes on her, and those of Twilight. “Do not act so familiar with me, creature. You are not my father.”

Another gasp from Twilight. “P-Princess! How could you say such a thing?”

“Not your father?” He chuckled, the sound eerie in absence of a visible mouth to apply it to. “That’s not very nice. What would your mother think?”

Celestia rustled her wings and glared where she knew her father’s face would be. “Do not play games with me. My father disappeared long ago, lost to the unknown wilderness beyond Equestria’s borders. You dishonor him with your deceptions.”

To this he offered no answer. Was he upset? Annoyed? Smug? She would not be able to tell without looking away, but she refused to do that. She had to demonstrate her will, her determination, and she couldn’t do that by looking away. Her real father had taught her that. She was only glad Twilight had the sense to keep quiet as well.

At last, the thing posing as her father spoke. “You don’t have to do this. It will only lead to pain.”

Curse him, he knew exactly how to mimic her father’s concerned tone. “I am willing to face the pain.”

He clucked his tongue. It sounded disturbingly similar to how she’d done it towards Twilight earlier. “You’re gambling, child, and poorly. You do not even know what reward you may gain from facing this, or even if there is one at all.”

“I have already gained much from facing your predecessors,” Celestia replied calmly. “What do you hope to gain by sealing my memories away? I won’t let you distract me from getting them back.”

“You should.” Her father sighed. “Please, my child. There is no need for this suffering. We can return to Canterlot, return to peace and tranquility. Isn’t that what you’ve been fighting for all these centuries?”

Twilight at last dared to speak up. “It’s true, isn’t it?” She flinched when Celestia turned a peering gaze upon her. “I m-mean, weren’t we happy? Equestria is at peace now, thanks to you. Risking yourself is risking that peace. I think.”

“Well said, Miss Sparkle.”

Celestia wanted to snap at her student, but she held the urge back. Twilight had the right to voice her opinion, even if it didn’t help matters. Lips tightly closed, Celestia took this opportunity to study her father’s face. As kind and pleasant as ever. He was either completely confident in his ability to convince her to turn around, or it was a mask. Knowing her father’s skills, it could very well be the former.

Except this isn’t my father. She turned to face him once more. “How can I trust a doppelganger? I do not see peace. I see blinders set upon me, keeping me from knowing the truth.”

“Truth is in the eye of the beholder.”

She smirked. “My father would never use such a tired cliché.”

“Does that make it any less accurate?”

“No.” She leaned closer, studying his faint outline. “It does confirm my beliefs, however. You’re naught but a puppet, a clever illusion conjured up to distract me from the truth. I will know what is missing, and I will save Equestria.”

“If that is how you feel, why not just blast me with your magic and be done with it?”

Indeed, why not? This wasn’t her father, and she should feel no shame for dealing with him directly. For all she knew, this entire conversation was nothing more than a distraction. She could wipe him out with but a flash of her horn! In fact…

“Princess?” Twilight shifted back from her glance. “Y-you’re not really going to try to attack your own father, are you?”

That frustratingly familiar voice spoke up, as calm and in control as ever. “Yes, child. Are you?”

The smug bastard! He might not be her father, but he still had a damned smart tongue. And yet, as she stared at Twilight’s frightened eyes, she wondered what would happen. Her thoughts drifted to Dova and Starswirl. She hadn’t solved those problems with violence, had she? And besides, there’d been enough of that in her lifetime. She closed her eyes and recalled flying over great battlements, raining sunfire down upon her hapless victims. Their screams, long forgotten in the fog of her mind, now haunted her with their intensity.

At last, she turned back to her father. “I won’t.” Twilight sagged with visible relief out the corner of her eye, but there could be no determining her father’s reaction. “But I tire of these games. I know you have what I need, and I must do… something.” It only now dawned upon her that she had no idea what that something was.

As if reading her thoughts, he said, “Oh, it’s simple, really, and also quite impossible. You need only accept that this is your fault to begin with.”

Celestia blinked. Blinked again. “What is my fault?”

The cheer in his voice was like nails on a chalkboard. “And thus you see the impossibility.”

“Wait.” Twilight’s face scrunched up in an unpleasant frown. “How can the Princess claim responsibility for things she doesn’t remember?”

“Then let’s focus on what I do remember.” Celestia scowled at the swirling shadows behind her father’s barely discernible form. “I remember not taking Starswirl’s warnings seriously. I remember invading Grypha. I remember killing more griffons than I could hope to count, including my friend Dova.” The ease with which she said such things unnerved her, and she took a moment to consider her feelings on them. The guilt was undeniably present, but it was a shadow of a pain, a distant feeling. Though return of the memory had struck her as a fresh blow, now…

She looked to her father. “Those events. They happened a long time ago, didn’t they?” No answer was offered, which she took as a confirmation. “And they are not what you are referring to.”

“And how would you know that, my child?”

Celestia’s ear flicked. Her hackles rose. Still, she kept her calm. “Let’s just say I do and leave it at that.”

“That’s not even close to a strong defense.”

A small, knowing smile graced her lips. “It doesn’t have to be. You taught me that.”

Nothing. Hesitation, perhaps? Celestia wished she could see his face, a sentiment undoubtedly shared by many a diplomat and ambassador over the centuries. Perhaps he didn’t remember his own lessons. It was a stretch of a guess, but if accurate then it would mean whatever pulled his strings only had a limited knowledge of her and her family.

And once again, she recalled the truth: this wasn’t her father. She’d almost forgotten.

Twilight perked up. “The changelings. Maybe it has to do with them.” No sooner had she said it than she flinched and rubbed at her head.

Celestia leaned towards her. “Are you alright?”

Her grimace fading to the focused, attentive expression typical for their lectures, Twilight sat up straight and nodded. “Yes. Just a little headache. Nothing too serious.”

Celestia’s father spoke with concern. “Would you like to be excused?”

The words caught Celestia’s attention, and in her peripheral vision she noted how his eyes were focused more on herself than Twilight. Father never allowed a delegate to walk away for something so simple. This really is a distraction. She turned back to him, maintaining a neutral expression. “It does have to do with the changelings.”

She picked up the sound of him shifting in his seat. It was a blatant giveaway of his anxiety, and a mistake her real father never would have made. “I know you’re eager to support your bright young student,” he said, “but there’s no need to adopt her wild, spur-of-the-moment theories.”

“I don’t think they are so wild,” Celestia countered. “It was right after defeating Chrysalis that the problems started. My mind is muddled, but I at least recall that much.”

“So you rush to blame changelings, the original enemy.”

“No.” She shook her head, using the opportunity to catch brief glimpses of his face. His stiffened posture and alert ears signaled the frustration his ever-patient voice concealed. “I don’t think the changelings are the problem.”

It was Twilight who asked, “Then what is?”

Such an obvious question, yet Celestia had no answer. It would be easy to point to her father, but that didn’t solve the problem. Her father wasn’t in her head. He wasn’t making her forget her purpose, at least not directly. He was only a puppet. A puppet for…

Her eyes fell upon the faintly visible illusion, the waver of light that hid him from the eyes so easily. No, not him. But beyond him?

The shadows seethed and writhed.

Wings tense, Celestia barely kept her magic in check as she leaned forward. “Show me your face.”

There came a slow exhalation from the nebulous fake. “You know I can’t do that.”

Just holding back a growl, she snapped, “Yes, you can. You are not him.”

“I am here.”

“But you’re not him.”

“You misunderstand. Maybe I’m not your father, but I am your father here.”

Her horseshoes bit into the wood of the table as she grimaced. “And where, exactly, is here?”

Twilight offered a timid, “The Everfree Forest?”

She rounded upon her student. “It’s not that simple. None of this is!” Any other words were blocked by her throat as Twilight cowered back. Biting down a curse, she took a moment to calm that miniature sun in her mind. Gradually, she sat in her seat once more. “I apologize, Twilight.”

Though her ears remained flat against her skull, Twilight nodded. “I-it’s okay, Princess. I’m sorry I said something so silly.”

Silly? “No, Twilight. I’m glad that you’re… helping…”

An urge had come over her, a sudden and inexplicable desire to comfort Twilight and bring her home. She didn’t need to be out here, not in her condition, and she certainly wasn’t ready to face a debate with Celestia’s father. It would be many years before she—

“No.” She glared at nothing, keeping her father’s calm expression in the corner of her eye. “This is another distraction.”

Her father sniffed derisively. “If you are so cruel as to think your own student a distraction, I fear for—”

“This entire conversation. One big distraction.” Celestia watched him. He watched back. The tension had returned to his shoulders. “What was it you said? That I must accept responsibility. Why haven’t we touched on that topic since?”

His eyes narrowed. “Maybe you were reluctant to broach the subject.”

“Or you’re dodging.”

It took a moment for him to respond. She found him a million times more transparent than her father had ever been… in a manner of speaking. He finally regained control of his fidgeting and smiled. “You just don’t want to accept your guilt.”

“I’d have to be guilty of something to do that.”

His jaw clenched. At last, a sign of emotion. It was enough to give Celestia a proper theory… and a course of action. She finally turned to face him properly, letting his illusion return. “You keep saying it is my fault, but not what is my fault. I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong.”

“No?”

The heat in his tone was delectable. Celestia turned her muzzle up, affecting the haughtiest manner she could as she spoke. “I am Princess Celestia, Bringer of the Dawn. I am flawless.” Out the corner of her eye, she noticed Twilight gawking at her. “I do not make mistakes.”

The illusion shifted, roiling like steam from a bubbling cauldron. Her father had never done that either, even in anger. “Flawless? You really think that?”

“Of course I do.” She flicked a hoof across her foreleg as if to rid it of dirt. “To think anything less? Why, I’m tempted to call that treason.”

“B-but, Princess.” Upon being the target of Celestia’s gaze, Twilight ducked her head and closed her eyes. “W-what about the war with the griffons?”

Celestia sniffed and turned back to her ‘father’. “What about it?”

The entity snarled, and the table shook with what she imaged were his stamping forehooves. “You haven’t changed at all, have you? If anything, you’ve gotten worse!”

An impatient roll of the eyes. “And you still haven’t told me what I’m supposed to be regretting. I must admit, I’m curious what fanciful dream you’ve conjured in your simple mind. What flaw do I have?”

“What flaw? What flaw?”

The façade broke at last, the veil of illusion fading to show… a creature? Celestia stared in bafflement at a being that appeared to be made entirely of darkness and smoke. The cloudy black swirled about as if in a storm, yet somehow maintained a near-perfect form of a pony. The shadow pony twisted and squirmed and snarled from an unseen mouth, tossing its chair away in its rage.

Its voice became a mangled scream, the barest brutal mimicry of her father’s. “You will never escape, Celestia! You do not deserve Equestria! I try to give you paradise and you reject it like the spoiled foal you are!”

Celestia stood from her seat, facing the entity with horn flaring. A quick push of her magic knocked Twilight away from the scene. “What are you?”

“I am your better! I am your superior! I—”

“You are nothing!” Another flash of magic, and the table was wrenched aside, leaving only air between her and the monster. “You are but a single toy in a much bigger scheme. What controls you? Answer!”

“I do not answer to wretched royal refuse.” The shadow pony lost its form for a moment, its raging clouds breaking free only to be reeled back in. “Your time is over! We will deliver Equestria to a new age of—!”

The fiend shrieked as a ray of pure sunlight pierced its body. It spread wide like a cloud, but rapidly regained its pony shape. It had lost some of its stature, appearing smaller than before.

Celestia looked down upon it with a grimace. “Answer my question, creature, or I shall end you.”

The creature hissed, lowering its front in an aggressive pose. “Such a wonderful negotiator you are, Celestia. I’m sure your father would be proud to see you resorting to—”

Another shot, another shriek. She waited for it to reform, once more only a fraction of its previous size. “Enough stalling. Answer me!”

Instead, the creature erupted into a great cloud that swept across the forest in every direction. It disappeared faster than she could react, and Celestia cursed under her breath. She scanned her surroundings, but found only the familiar movement of the forest shadows. They had grown even more dense since the start of the conversation, and they writhed about as if angry at her actions. Now more than ever, Celestia knew she was on the right path.

“P-Princess…”

The frail sound caught her attention. Twilight lay in a ball, arms wrapped about her stomach as she trembled. The sight burned Celestia’s heart, and she hurried to Twilight’s side. Lowering to nuzzle her student behind the ear, she asked, “What is wrong?”

Only then did she notice the black. It wasn’t like the shadows, but instead appeared as though Twilight’s very coat was shifting in hues. Portions of her body were now as dark as pitch. The edges where shadow met violet writhed and squirmed, and Celestia had the distinct impression something was trying to possess her student.

Twilight managed to force an eye open. Celestia recoiled at the sight of a brilliant yellow iris.

“I don’t want to!” Twilight clenched her eyes closed once more. “Th-that’s not me. That’s not me. That’s not me!”

“Begone!” Celestia called upon her magic, illuminating the forest in golden light that would have blinded the average pony. But Celestia was anything but average, and as Twilight shrieked, she watched the darkness fade from her student’s body. It departed via her hind hooves, darting across the dry earth to disappear behind the withered, barren trees.

As soon as the last mote of black had faded, Celestia ended the spell and pulled the sobbing Twilight close. “It’s okay, Twilight. It’s gone. I’ve got you.”

Twilight clutched Celestia close, gradually recovering from her momentary ordeal. Celestia had to wonder just what the shadows wanted with her. Now that she thought on it, this was the second time they’d tried something like this. Why? What was so important about Twilight Sparkle that they felt the need to attack her?

Twilight mumbled something between hiccups, and Celestia put her ponderings aside. “What was that?”

Looking up at her with tearstained cheeks, Twilight muttered, “I’m not real.”

Not real? Celestia brushed her student’s frazzled mane back from her face. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not real,” Twilight repeated, her hold on Celestia tightening. “I s-saw it when you cast your spell. I’m… I’m a fake. A puppet! I’m not supposed to exist, but th-they needed a… a…”

Sighing, Celestia pressed her forehead to Twilight’s. “Hush, now. You are real, Twilight. As real as I am. They were only trying to deceive you.”

“But what if it’s true? What if I only exist to keep you occupied?”

“That’s not true, and I think you belittle your own value by giving the thought any credence.” Tipping Twilight’s chin up with a hoof, Celestia met her gaze and smiled. “You are real, you are not a burden, and I am glad that you’ve come with me.”

Twilight’s ears perked, her frown fading just a bit. “Really? Y-you mean it?”

“I mean it.”

“You won’t… send me away?”

The idea flitted across her mind. If this journey was going to be so traumatic, maybe Twilight did need to stay in Canterlot. Tears began anew at her silence, and Celestia realized she couldn’t do it. “No, Twilight. If you want to see this through to the end with me, then you should.”

Twilight sniffed, rubbed her eyes, and somehow managed a trembling smile. “Yes. Yes, please. I have to know. It’s the only way to be sure that I’m… that I’m not a fake.”

“You’re not a fake, Twilight. That I can assure you.”

But as Celestia held her close and set her chin atop Twilight’s head, she let her smile fade. Her eyes traced the darkness creeping back through the forest after her spell. It shifted and swayed and squirmed. She couldn’t possibly admit her doubts out loud.

Twilight wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Chapter VII

They’d been walking for some time. Hours. Days? With the world stuck in a perpetual night, Celestia couldn’t be certain. Yet she never tired. Twilight could not say the same, and her condition was worrying, but she somehow managed to keep up. The trees of the forest grew more and more sparse and skeletal, the dark landscape a wasteland unfamiliar to either of them. The shadows lingered and danced at the periphery of Celestia’s illuminated horn.

It seemed the distractions that had long plagued Celestia were gone. Her mind had cleared considerably, and while some of her memory remained clouded, she didn’t lose any memories since the defeat of the thing imitating her father. Her father who, she now understood with vivid clarity, had disappeared some two millennia ago.

The implications weighed heavily upon her. Either Celestia’s foe was very old, or it had found a way into her memories. In either case, it made her wary of what was to come. More than ever, she wished for Twilight to remain behind, but she still couldn’t bring herself to send her away. Was it a desire not to be alone or to not offend her student? Perhaps both.

The nightingale flew overhead, trailing stardust and singing its pleasant song as it led them along. It didn’t seem perturbed by their surroundings at all. The song touched Celestia’s ears and gave her heart a little burst of confidence. By now she was sure this was no ordinary Seashore Nightingale. Yet the bird remained a mysterious figure. Where had it come from? Why was it helping her?

Why did it seem so familiar?

Her eyes lowered from the nightingale, only to be met with black. She jerked to a stop, reaching a leg out to block Twilight’s path. The young pony gave her an uncertain look through weary eyes. Those same eyes went wide when they followed Celestia’s gaze and found the massive wall. “Where did that come from?”

A proper question, for Celestia was sure something this large would have been seen from a distance long before now. Determining its height was difficult in the nighttime lighting, but it seemed clear to Celestia that it was several hundred feet tall at least, and it stretched to the left and right of them as far as the eye could see. Which, under the circumstances, wasn’t all that far. Unlike in the sparse, skeletal woods, the darkness did not move in any way.

And yet it still gave off a heavy sense of foreboding. Celestia could feel something watching her from within, a sense of the mind that filled her with an urgent desire to move away from the unknown before her. Twilight did not appear immune, trembling in place as she gaped at the mysterious black.

“W-we’re not going to have to go in there, are we?”

Before Celestia could speak, a familiar voice rose from within the black. “I would hope not.”

Her heart was squeezed by an unseen claw as, deep within the darkness, a flame was lit. The fire approached, slowly, steadily, growing ever larger. Soon a shape could be seen within, vaguely equine shaped. With a wing, Celestia brushed Twilight behind her even as her gaze narrowed at the oncoming specter.

It stepped out of the wall of shadow, tall and regal and red. Celestia’s mother held her head high and stared down her muzzle at her. She wore a frown that could either be disdain or contempt, and Celestia didn’t know which bothered her more. The flames that made up her mane billowed in a quiet frenzy of sparks. The pale dragon’s claw that made up her breastplate seemed more menacing than she recalled.

“Well, Celestia? Will you not greet your mother?”

Celestia gritted her teeth before uttering, “You are not my mother.”

“Oh?” Not a flinch in that commanding stare. “And what brought you to that conclusion?”

“My mother died fighting a dragon,” Celestia hissed. “She perished defending Equestria from evil. Her death destroyed my father, and you do them both insult by taking on their forms!”

Her mother peered, lips pursing. “Suppose that is true. What do you intend to do about it?”

The words, laced with clear threat, gave Celestia pause. Indeed, what would she do? The deceiver’s appearance and manner was like that of a guardian, a soldier, a defender. If she tried to pass, would it attack? And if the recreation of her mother was even close to accurate, she’d be hard pressed to win a fight. She cast a glance at Twilight, who huddled behind her and shook as if the chill winds of death were upon her. To get into a fight with her student so close…

“What’s the matter, child?” Her mother spat the words. “Typical Celestia, too scared to do what is necessary.”

“Celestia,” Twilight hissed, “I think we need to go. I d-don’t feel right.”

A hurried look confirmed that no shadows touched her, and yet Twilight trembled like a leaf. Her wide eyes stared upon not Celestia’s mother, but the dark wall behind her. Celestia nuzzled her gently. “What is it, Twilight? What do you feel?”

“A p-presence,” her student managed to whisper. “It’s… It’s looking at me.”

“Turn away from this foolish quest, Celestia.” Her mother’s scowl deepened at her glare. “Go back to your lazy, peaceful little life. Enjoy the pacifistic fantasy. It is where you belong.”

“Do not speak as though you are my superior, monster!” Celestia stomped closer, wings flared and horn flashing. “I defeated your last three forms. I will not hesitate to do the same here. Begone, or face my anger!”

“You would address me in such a manner?” The fiery mare’s nostrils flared, flames licking the air from the exhalation. “You’ve never stood up for anything! You would rather cower behind civilians and rainbows! You could not fight me even if you wished to, because you, child, are a coward.”

“I defeated Chrysalis,” Celestia countered with a growl, dragging a hoof across the dirt.

Her mother’s mane burst into a maelstrom of orange fire, crackling and searing bright. “You did no such thing! You permitted her to survive, to grow stronger, to come back another day to lay waste to Equestria! Admit it, Celestia, you are weak. You lack the courage and commitment to do what is required to protect your kingdom. You are unworthy of your crown!”

Celestia’s throat ached with the ferocity of her scream. “Compassion is not a weakness, and my mother knew it! Show your true form, you beast!”

The flames all but died. Her mother lowered her head to peer at Celestia. Though her face was calm and composed, the fires still burned brightly in her eyes. She spoke in a cool whisper. “No, Tia. Compassion is cruelty. It is a hard, menacing thing that paints a picture of hope and dangles it before your face for a millennium. A millennium of longing and desire and bitterness of needing that which you will not be able to receive. A ‘forgiveness’ of isolation, with naught but the taunting, cold voices in your head reminding you of how all the pain and misery could be gone if not for somepony’s forbidding compassion.”

The creature bent low. Flames flickered between the joints of her armor as a quiet roar filled the air.

“You know all about compassion, don’t you, child?”

Her eyes bulged as the flames grew.

“You speak of peace while stabbing your friends in the back.”

And grew more, engulfing the former queen as she snarled.

“I know of your compassion!”

The claw of her breastplate tightened its grip, the sharp talons digging into her shoulders and bringing out blood that bubbled with the heat.

“I will ensure nopony suffers your mercy ever again!”

Celestia’s heart pounded as the flames grew, took shape, developed a clear form. She looked back to her gaping, trembling student. “Twilight. Run. Get away from here!” The young pony required no further prodding; she fled the scene as fast as her legs could carry her.

“Face me, Celestia.”

And she did, breath halting in the frail gasp as the fires coalesced at last into a massive, mighty dragon, with her mother hovering as the beast’s heart. The flames charred her mother’s skin, and the mare shrieked her agony as the talons tightened even more upon her body. “Mother!”

The mare’s scream cut off as she glared upon her daughter with flaming eyes and blood on her lips. The dragon’s roar was a blast of superheated air and the cacophony of an inferno’s rage. “Run away, Celestia. Run like the coward you are, or prove me wrong and bring me down. Kill your mother! Be the creature of violence she always wanted you to be!

“And if you can’t,” she hissed as the dragon’s blazing neck pulled back taut, “then go back to your fantasy world like the weakling I know you are.”

The beast lunged, its orange jaws opening wide to engulf Celestia. She raised a shield, knocking the flames back as she stood her ground. She reared back, horn shining bright, and sent a prismatic arc of colors sailing towards the dragon’s elongated neck. The attack sailed through, decapitating the creature and making the flames of its head flicker out.

Two more burst from the wound, living flame that shrieked in the night. Celestia unfurled her wings and took to the air just in time to avoid a furious swipe of claws, the fires licking at her hooves. Dodging the snake-like strike of one of the dragon’s heads, she unleashed another barrage of cutting color, removing the other before it could attack. Still, two more emerged.

Her mother howled in agony, boiling blood coating herself and the dragon’s claw that dug into her flesh. It was enough to wrench at Celestia’s heart, for even if that was not her mother, it still bore her mother’s form and voice. It was almost enough of a distraction to let the heads strike, but she raised a shield at the last second and repelled all three. Unwilling to give the fiend even more appendages with which to attack, she began a midair dance of dodges, lunges, climbs and dives to evade.

Amidst her agonized cries, her mother managed to force out words. “What’s wrong, Celestia? Use the godlike powers your royal blood has graced upon you!” She squirmed as the flames reformed to grant the fiery giant a pair of massive wings, every flap sending a cascade of heat into the area. Dead trees erupted in fire as the surrounding temperature rose dramatically.

“Fight! Be the butcher of the griffons! Be the monster you always wanted to be!”

“I am not a monster!” Celestia rose over a swinging claw, dove beneath the snapping strike of a head. “I never desired to be one! Not like you. I would never be like you!” She fought against the great wings, struggling to maintain control in the superheated, turbulent air.

The beast stomped forward, carrying the limp pony at its heart as if she were no more than a marionette. Yet Celestia’s mother maintained a vicious glare upon her troublesome daughter. “Always Daddy’s little girl, weren’t you? I gave you all the power, all the might. You could have crushed your enemies at any time, but no!”

Three heads breathed flames upon Celestia’s shield, maintaining a steady torrent as her mother screamed her agony and fury. “You had to follow his example, you had to be weak!”

With a cry of her own, Celestia beat her wings hard to rise above the fray even as her bubble of protection collapsed to the searing fire. “There is no weakness in avoiding conflict!”

The beast stepped back, heads reared once more, the flames crackling high in the night sky as the dry landscape burned. Waves of heat distorted its image, made her mother’s demented, toothy grimace all the more savage.

“Oh, but there is, Celestia. And you took it, the coward’s way. You took it and left me with that inferior sop of a foal to take up my mantle. You forced me to work with such pathetic stock!”

These words gave Celestia pause. She stared down at her mother’s twisted visage, heart hammering and mind spinning. “W-what? Who are you…? What other…?”

The heads struck as one, unleashing flame as they exploded through the air. Celestia gasped, started to raise her shield—

What am I doing?

The shield dropped. The flames struck.

Celestia basked.

Familiar heat, searing and comfortable, danced on her fur. She breathed deep, taking in the magic present and pulling it into herself. The nature of it surprised her, its strength and heat and delightful pressure. And in her awareness, she came to truly understand.

The heads disappeared, and the great beast pulled back as if stung. Celestia hovered above it, meeting her mother’s wide eyes with a glare as the flames flickered within. That little sun was ready to go nova, but she held it in as she began to lower herself. “I see. This is a foul thing you have done, creature. It is as pathetic as it is offensive.”

Her mother said nothing, only scowled and continued the slow, cautious retreat.

“It was a clever ruse, making me forget early on that fire can only ever be my ally.” She raised a hoof, which abruptly became engulfed in flames. “But I remembered, because it is only logical. However…” The fire snuffed out, her body going tense as she met the fake’s eyes once more. “Using the fires of the sun against me was your greatest error. My mother was a gifted pyromancer, but only I may touch the sun, for it is mine.”

Her horn glowed a bright yellow, and the flames of the dragon were sucked into Celestia’s form in a slow, gradual pull. She could feel the heat growing, intensifying, building her strength. The creature that pretended to be her mother squirmed and howled, the great talon tightening even more about her as she fought Celestia’s draining pull.

After but a few seconds, Celestia stopped. “You tapped into my sacred domain.” She felt her lips pull back. Her body shook, her wingtips trembled. “The only reason I have not turned you to cinders is for the knowledge you possess. Tell me what controls this world!”

She sucked in more of the flames, the dragon’s body growing smaller as the doppelganger struggled to replenish its fire. “I…” Her mother coughed up black blood, blood that sizzled and became a shadowy smoke. “I draw upon the sun itself! My power is infinite!”

With a growl that echoed over the raging flames, Celestia tapped into her charge, letting it engulf her very being. Her body shone in a blinding blaze as she spoke with all the majesty her lineage granted her. “I am the Sun Incarnate! Do you think but a small source can measure against all the fury of a star? I can cut off your connection with but a thought. Give me my answers, demon, or face my judgement!”

Her mother… smiled. No, it wasn’t a smile.

It was a smirk.

The dragon darted to the side, flying through the air to pass Celestia and head into the forest. As Celestia turned to watch, she reached deep into the energies she’d tapped into, feeling the strangely close sensation of her beloved sun. She could deal with the repercussions of the sun’s seeming closeness later, for now she had to find a hole…

“Hurry, hurry, Little Princess,” her mother taunted as she flew in zig-zagging motions across the landscape. “How quickly can you cut me off? Is it before I cook a tasty morsel?”

“Celestia!”

All the heat of all the stars in the universe could not stop her heart from freezing at that startled cry. Celestia gasped when she saw her student burst from her distant hiding place, fleeing the coming dragon that now banked to pursue. “Twilight!”

“Come here, my little pony.” The creature laughed, a piercing screech of a sound that only barely matched her beloved mother’s. “I can’t burn the sun, but I can certainly burn you!” A fiery claw crashed into the earth, barely missing Twilight’s fleeing form as she shifted directions at the last second.

“Leave her be, monster!” Celestia started to approach, but stopped herself. She was channeling too much of the sun’s power. If she came too close to the chase, she would incinerate Twilight by sheer proximity. Struggling to reign in her fluctuating, raging magic, she called out to her student. “Twilight, I will stop it! Just keep moving for a little longer!”

But she’d taken up far too much of the sun’s energies. Her only hope of powering down now would be to unleash it, and that would surely kill her dear student. Celestia screamed in her impotence, her horn aching as she battled against the flow of power that was like an open drain.

“P-Princess, I can’t!” Tears streamed down Twilight’s eyes, only to evaporate in a puff of steam when one of the dragon’s heads smashed the earth to her left. She jumped, turned another direction, wailed against what must have been unbearable heat. “Please hurry!”

“Run. Run! Make this entertaining!” More twisted laughter, more manic screaming. The creature at the heart of the dragon howled in agony as the claw squeezed it with enough force to crush the bones in its shoulders. “Kill me, Celestia! Prove you are your mother’s monster! Kill me to save your darling student!”

No. There was another option. Abandoning her fight, Celestia resumed her search within the boiling flame that was the sun’s power. Somewhere deep inside, she knew she would find it. A flaw. A hole. A tap. If she could just get to it…

“Princess, please!”

She closed her eyes, but her own brightness defied the measure and filled the world with white. Clenching her teeth, she dug deeper. A weakness. It had to be in there. The sun was her domain. It should be easy!

“Come on, Celestia! What are you waiting for? Accept the fighting spirit I gave you!”

Where? Where, where, where? So much energy, so much frothing, furious, burning power. It was so vast…

“Celestia!”

I’m trying, Twilight. Her search intensified. I’m trying!

“Stop squirming, you little—”

“I don’t want to burn!”

There! A tiny crack in the magical fabric! Celestia focused all her senses upon it and, with the faintest touch of her mind, sealed it. Her eyes snapped open—just in time to see Twilight disappear into the wall of shadows.

“No!” Celestia launched forward, but knew it was too late.

The great fire dragon stopped before the wall of black as its controller howled with laughter. “Look at that! She actually went in, the foal! She’s as good as—”

She shrieked as a golden aura snatched the claw that held her and tossed it across the smoldering landscape like a child’s toy. The pony body rolled across the ground, smashed through a burning tree that shattered into ash, and kept going. When at last she stopped, she lay on her backside and stared with wide eyes at the dark, starless sky. The flames of the dragon continued to writhe and snap, as if possessing a life all its own.

Celestia hovered over the foul entity, sunfire caressing her fur and dancing upon her wings. Her breathing came in slow, heaving gasps between bared teeth. Celestia had not felt such burning menace within her own mind in… she was not sure she ever had. She did not think on it. She had no need to focus on anything but the foulness below and how eager she was to burn it.

The creature climbed to its hooves, limping and bleeding and charred. It offered a sputtering, quick laugh as the claw carried it into the air once more. “Yes… Yes, Celestia. Show your mother what you can do! Let us see how pure and good you really are.”

She gasped, the sound a weak rasp, as Celestia sucked in the dragon’s flames. “You.”

The flow continued, dragging the creature higher as Celestia ascended.

“Are.”

Flesh seared black as the pony body squirmed and rasped, the flames growing weaker.

“Not.”

The flames died, leaving only a blackened pony whose form took on the consistency of shadow, squirming and wreathing and mute. The dragon talon tried to close upon it, but it grasped naught but dark.

“My.”

The shadows condensed, tried to expand, but were beaten back into pony form by the sun’s light.

“Mother.”

They were so high above the forest that the fires below seemed a mere speck, the flame of a matchstick. Now reassured that Twilight could not be caught in the intense heat radiating from her, Celestia unleashed all her stored up potential, focusing the blast up and directly upon the skeletal claw and the shade trapped within its clutches. The claw blackened, then grew white, then began to glow as more and more sunfire engulfed its form. It shriveled, smoked, began to disintegrate into ash.

Just before it faded completely, Celestia thought she heard a cackling laughter over the roar of pure, unfiltered fire.

With the energy drained at last, she closed off her connection, and the power died in an instant. Her glow faded, her coat returned to its normal pristine condition. Her pounding heart slowed as, carefully, she lowered herself away from the superheated atmosphere and back to the world of shadows. The laughter continued to echo in her ears, perhaps only a phantom or trick of the imagination. Somehow, she doubted that theory.

The boiling ball of fire that had compelled her to act was now nothing but a numbing chunk of ice over her heart. She cast her gaze to the western landscape and saw nothing but impenetrable blackness to the end of her vision. It joined with the empty night sky, a sky devoid of stars and beauty, to create an infinite wall of darkness.

A darkness that Twilight Sparkle had been forced to flee into.

“Oh, Twilight, why did I let you come with me?”

She was still high over the forest, descending steadily towards the smoking semicircle where her fight had begun. Scanning the area revealed no spot of purple amongst the dark fields. Only now did she notice, offhand, that the squirming blackness that had defined this entire journey had disappeared. The land was but land, the shadows mere shadows. She could only assume they had retreated into that great wall, as Twilight had before them.

Deep down, Celestia understood that her dear student would not escape the black on her own. As she touched down on the burnt earth before the darkness, she acknowledged that she had only one course of action. Going home was no longer an option, not with Twilight lost.

Half hopeful, but aware of the pointlessness of the act, she turned to survey the landscape one last time. Please, Twilight. Reveal yourself. Show me you escaped on your own.

Her wishes went unanswered. She brought her attention back to the great darkness that consumed the west. What entities lay waiting within? What new challenges and terrors and truths?

Truths. She’d come all this way for truths. The twisting knife in her heart clarified: truths were no longer of any consequence. Twilight… “I will get you out of this. I promise.”

With head held high and horn shining bright, Celestia stepped into the dark.

Chapter VIII

The instant Celestia entered the darkness, she knew that there was more to this place than an absence of light. Her hoofsteps, already muffled by the ground on which she walked, grew silent. Her breathing sounded loud to her ears, and a bitter chill covered her from feather to hoof. The air felt heavy, as if some great weight had settled upon her back and shoulders. Her body moved with a gradual, drifting manner, making her feel as though she’d gone underwater.

Celestia drifted forward. Drifted, for though her hooves touched ground it seemed only the faintest memory of a touch. She imagined herself flitting across the bottom of a lake, hooftips barely tapping the soil below before sending her onwards to the next step. In her youth, this might have appealed to her, or amused her in some way. Today – tonight? – it only served to remind Celestia of just how otherworldly her surroundings had become.

“Twilight?” Her voice came out soft, far lower in volume than the call it was meant to be.

“Twilight!” She’d been properly shouting that time, and still the name emerged quieter than her normal speaking voice. Scowling, Celestia peered at the darkness all around. She had presumed the creeping shadows had retreated to this place, but if they were, then even they were invisible to the naked eye here.

What might those foul things be doing to her beloved student even now?

Spurred on by the sickening feeling in her gut, Celestia sucked in a deep breath and prepared her Royal Voice. When unleashed, it echoed through the darkness with profound force. And yet even that sounded quiet to her ears, more akin to a low shout than the magical force of nature it truly was.

She pursed her lips and glared at the darkness. “You would have me be intimidated by this… unnatural place. In this you have failed!”

Magic flowed into her horn, producing a basic light spell. Basic in concept, but Celestia pushed more magic into it, creating a brilliant cone of light. Yet the only sign Celestia had that the darkness had retreated was that she could now see herself when she looked down. Even then, she could not see her own hooves. How would she ever find Twilight in this place?

The soft flapping of wings graced her ears, and not a second later she felt gentle claws upon her back. With a flinch, she glanced over her shoulder to find the nightingale perched upon her. It preened for a moment before giving her a curious look, its head cocked.

She glowered back at the creature. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could help me find Twilight, is there?” The bird made an unpleasant squawking sound that may or may not have been ardent refusal, prompting her to roll her eyes. “I didn’t think so.”

Even her emotions seemed dulled in this place. Celestia’s heart trembled, her breath came in short gasps, but it was almost like her emotions were somepony else’s anxiety. She felt… annoyed. Because Twilight wasn’t there? Because Twilight needed her help. Again. What a useless, worthless foal.

She shook her head firmly. No. It’s playing with your head again. Gritting her teeth, she fought back the negative emotions by carefully considering her situation. The invasion of her mind was stronger now than ever before, but more obvious for it. What was the correlation? There had to be something making it so. Something present here in greater amounts than before, something that didn’t want her to find Twilight.

The answer seemed obvious. So, too, the solution. Channeling more of her magic, Celestia raised her head and created a small orb of light. Brighter and brighter it shone, but the amount of magic required to make it work was exponentially greater than normal. The shadows battled her light, shrinking its area of effect, yet unable to properly extinguish it. When Celestia at last released her hold on it, she’d put enough power into it that it would have blinded normal ponies with its potency under normal circumstances. The orb floated a dozen feet above her head, providing self-sustaining light in a mere six-foot radius.

The power over her mind faded with the darkness. An instant later, her heart was hammering against her ribs. Her legs shook, her eyes darted about. Her rapid breaths echoed dimly in the dark as she searched around her frantically. “Twilight? Twilight, can you see the light? I’m here!”

No answer met her ears. The urge to begin a manual search was barely quelled by logic; all she would achieve would be to get lost. No, she needed a plan!

With no better ideas, Celestia began creating more of the orbs. Each one took a few minutes of concentration, concentration that allowed her mind to calm and her thoughts to focus. She wouldn’t find Twilight in this place using a single little light. She needed to widen her search area first, and so she began arranging the orbs in a neat grid pattern. She imagined Twilight would approve. Was it wishful, foolish thinking to hope that her studious protégée might be drawn to the ordered form like a moth to flame?

With sixteen orbs created in a square, Celestia had significantly widened her visibility range. Still no Twilight. She bit her lip at the emptiness all around. She should have known better.

“Where are you?” She turned a small circle, only to realize that she had no idea in what direction she’d originally come from. Her heart felt like it had been made of ice. “Twilight, what do I do? You were always so clever. I could use some of that right now.”

Abruptly, the nightingale flew from her back. It made wide circles overhead, then flew to Celestia’s left. It resumed its circling just at the edge, its song loud in the still air. Every now and then it would flit back to her, but would return to the edge of the light just as quickly.

Its intention was clear, but Celestia shook her head. “I must find Twilight. I won’t continue on this journey until I do.” Ignoring the bird’s noisy protests, she started into the darkness, the orbs of light following directly above her. Her eyes scanned the—

Feathers and stardust obscured her vision. With a sigh, Celestia reared back and waved her hooves to dismiss the bird. “I appreciate that you want to help, but…” Something caught her eye. There, in the far corner of the light, a small object trembled. Celestia could hardly believe that she’d have found Twilight so easily, yet the promise of possibility guided her steps.

“Twilight?”

Color came with more of the light. Violet and black intermixed in a confusing hodgepodge, but as Celestia drew closer… The hairs on Celestia’s back shot up. Her cautious approach became a gallop. “Get off her!”

Twilight sat in a slumped pose, back to her, and covered in squirmy, clinging shadows. Even as she approached, more darkness flowed into the light, converging on the young unicorn like a plague. Yet when Celestia came close she realized with chilling clarity that the shadows had gained form, oozing and bulging and globular.

“No!” She delivered upon the darkness the heat of her magic, searing the blackness. Rivulets of steam arose from the shadow, but Twilight’s scream made her shut off the spell in an instant. Thinking quickly, Celestia tried firing a beam of magic into the encroaching shadows. Yet for every inch that she incinerated, thrice that would reach Twilight from some other direction. “Stop. Stop! Leave her be!”

Twilight’s head twitched upwards. It turned. A lone, wide eye, its purple iris tall and thin, met Celestia’s. “P-Prin… cessssss?”

With a snarl, Celesta summoned a round shield of sunlight, surrounding her student from all sides. She stood, horn glowing, shoulders tensed, as the shades hesitated in their assault. They shifted and squirmed and probed. Celestia took a deep breath, relief washing over her. Now if she could just—

The shadows lunged! No longer confining themselves to the grey, smooth earth, they leapt up to assault Celestia’s shield. In the time it took for her to register the situation, more than half of the barrier protecting Twilight had been covered in oozing, smoking darkness.

A cold tremble ran down her back at the sight, but she shook it off and pushed more magic into the spell. The dome’s shine intensified, burning like a hot coal in the dim world, and yet the attack continued.

“Stop!” Celestia fired a beam off the edge of the shield, splattering the shadows, but the opening she’d cleansed was covered again in seconds. Why wasn’t this working? It had always worked before! “Twilight!”

“Mother!”

That voice, a cry in the dark, gave her pause. It was a strange thing, like somepony had taken Twilight’s voice and blended it with that of an older, deeper voice. She stepped back, watching with trembling lips as the darkness seemed to consume her shield entirely. “Tw-Twilight?”

Somepony… no, something burst from the sludge. It held a pony shape, and it possessed hints of the purple that defined Twilight, but it was taller, and its body smoked as if a fire burned beneath its hide. Shadows swirled within its coat, making it seem at all times shrouded, and while one eye was Twilight’s typical lovely violet, the other was the bright yellow glow. It stepped forward, seeming to ignore Celestia as it reared up on its hind legs and raised its forehooves to the empty sky.

“Mother! You promised! You promised she would love me! Why does she not love me, Mother? Why?”

The entity – Twilight? Not Twilight? – dropped to four hooves, its legs bending outward as if they were made of rubber. It sobbed, a scratchy, stomach-churning sound like claws on a chalkboard, and stumbled around. “You promised. Y-you promised! For what purpose do I live but to b-be loved?”

Keeping her distance, both from the creature and the black goo that had once been its cocoon, Celestia spoke in a quiet voice. “What are you?”

The creature stopped. Its ears elongated and twisted in her direction. Then the neck stretched, curving a semicircle so that the head could look directly at Celestia without the body moving. Its yellow and violet eyes were wide beyond believability as the thing gaped at her. “You’re here.”

Celestia met its gaze, even as her chest felt empty and her legs weak.

“You’re here,” it repeated. Slowly, it turned its body to her and reformed into a mostly normal pony shape, though its knees still wobbled unnaturally. The thing smiled, showing pearly white teeth, but the squirming shadows slithered over even those. “Princess. Princess. Are you ready to m-move on?”

It took a step closer. Celestia backed away. Its ears folded back, only to merge into the shadows of its skull. The smile turned frail, anxious. Desperate. “Princess?”

Inhale. Exhale. Celestia swallowed, but her throat remained dry. “You never were Twilight, were you?”

It retreated as if stung, its hooves leaving lingering black spots like bubbles in the air. “I… I’m not.” Just as quickly, the creature took a step forward. Its eyes narrowed, its shoulder hunched. “I’m better! I’m m-me. I’m r-real. I’m better because I’m real and I love you!” Back came the anxiousness. It took another step closer. “And you love me… don’t you?”

Celestia recoiled from its pleading gaze. “I don’t even know what you are.”

The entity’s eyes widened once again. Its pupils shrank and grew independently from one another in seemingly random spurts. It sat heavily and rubbed its hooves, creating a small cloud of smoke. “M-mother said. Mother promised. You’re supposed to love me. Did Mother lie?” It drooped slightly, eyes dropping to the ground. “W-why would Mother lie?”

Again, that title. Celestia peered at the creature. “Who is ‘Mother’?”

“Please!” The entity surged forward, its rubbery legs stretching wide as if to hug Celestia. She leapt back, summoning a quick shield to repel the advance. Shoving the barrier forward like a battering ram proved enough to knock the thing to the ground in a mess of smoke, ooze and squirming shade.

“I will not entertain your fantasies,” Celestia hissed, lowering her front in a combative pose. “You will tell me where Twilight is. Reveal her to me!”

Rather than answer, the violet and black thing quivered on the floor. It made more of that scratchy, unpleasant crying noise. Celestia tensed, her lips curled. This… this thing had taken Twilight’s form, but it was only another puppet. Her horn began to shine as she pawed the ground. “Speak, you imposter. Was Twilight ever here? Did she ever even exist?”

Just asking the question was enough to blur her vision with fresh tears. As much as she tried to focus, her mind flitted to memories oh-so recent, recollections of an eternally curious filly filled with questions beyond those of ponies twice her age. She closed her eyes to see a mere child who bounced circles about Celestia upon receiving her cutie mark. A precious student who might burst into tears at the mere thought of disappointing her teacher. A beloved foal nestled beneath her wing, trusting in her mentor to keep away the nightmares.

Nightmares. This was a nightmare.

More than a nightmare.

When Celestia opened her eyes, the tears boiled off her cheeks. She approached the shivering violet and black form on the ground, the fire in her heart threatening to burn the very air. “Answer my question, creature. Where is Twilight Sparkle?”

The answer did not come from the doppelganger before her. Her ears twitched to faint whispers in the dark, coming from every direction. Gritting her teeth, Celestia dared to examine her surroundings. Now that she looked, she could see the motion. The darkness writhed with impossible, wiggly motions, as if the very black itself had come alive.

The voices grew in volume. Soon, words became discernible.

Doesn’t love me. Lied. Twilight. Promised. Lies. Love me. Celestia. Only me. Lied. Purpose? Created. Hates me. Celestia? Doesn’t love me. I can be. Mother. Good as her. What? Love me. Worthless. Mother. You promised. Good enough. Me. Twilight? Where? Only me. Purpose! Lesser. Mother! Why? Love. Hate. Hate! Love. Celestia! Look at me! Promised. Lies. Doesn’t love me. Dream. Sparkle. Created? Love me! Promised! Better!

Celestia turned a circle, heart beating a hole in her chest as she tried to find the source of a thousand voices. “What are you? Where? Be silent!” She jerked back when, with a noisy squawk, the nightingale flew past her face. Her eyes followed its path, only to land upon the creature when the bird passed between them. The false Twilight had grown larger, now nearly as tall as she was, and it stared at her with eyes glowing like lanterns and coat alive with shadowy motion.

“Twilight,” it hissed, body lowered as if to pounce. “Twilight is what you want?”

Fake. Not real. Lies. Mother! Love. Purpose. Promised. Lied.

Ears folding back to block out the voices, Celestia stomped and met the fiend’s gaze. “Tell me where she is!”

A long, low hiss snaked its way through white teeth. “She isn’t here…”

Better. Celestia. Promised! Give me. Love me. Promised. Lies!

It took a step closer, a streak of black trailing along its body. “I am. I am as good as her.”

Lesser. Don’t hate me! Mother. Lies. Dream! Why?

“Love me, Celestia.” Shadows converged upon the creature like coiling tentacles, feeding its darkness. “Forget about Twilight Sparkle. Love me.”

Mother! Alone. Sparkle. Who? Only me. Celestia.

Before her eyes, the creature began to grow. Larger and larger, darker and darker. The violet of its coat faded to black.

Doesn’t love me. What? Lies! Twilight! Hates me.

Celestia felt a familiar weight bearing upon her mind. The fire of her anger trembled before a new, icy sensation digging into her heart. A known dread…

Dream! Promised! Love me! Mother. Lied!

“I can be your Twilight.” The creature’s rictus grin glinted in the light. Its hideous, oozing body defied gravity as it slouched forward on four shaky legs. “I live for your love. Love me, Celestia.”

Doesn’t love me! Purpose! Mother! Lies! Celestia! Sparkle!

As Celestia trembled, the gargantuan beast reared high over her head and spread liquid arms wide. “I. Will. Give. You. Bliss!”

She screamed and beat her wings. The monster crashed like a wave of ink, but Celestia eluded its grasping tendrils by the hairs of her tail. She flew frantic and blind through the darkness as the universe howled like a million mad mares! Without looking back, without thought, she obeyed her deepest instincts and fled.

Love me! Celestia! Lies! Mother! Only me!

Fighting tears and the fear that gripped her mind, Celestia struggled for some semblance of rational thought. “W-what do I… Why am I…”

The shadows ahead exploded upwards! Out of the mass of black came two eyes as large as she was, one yellow and the other violet. The murk groped the air as she cried out and turned away sharply.

“Don’t leave me! I love you! Celestia, come back!”

Sparkle! Who? Good as her! Mother! Better! Purpose!

“I know you love me, Celestia!”

The world was a cacophony of voices. Screaming, sobbing, howling, pleading, from every direction in the pitch black of the world. The shining orbs Celestia had summoned were extinguished one at a time by the roiling mass she could barely see. Soon only one remained, that single brilliant light that hovered incessantly above her head like a beacon. Panic begged for Celestia to shut it off so she might hide in the void, but the logical voice hidden deep within her roiling fear reminded her that this entity, this non-Twilight, was a creature of the shadows.

The darkness converged! She banked hard right as the infernal tentacles grasped for her. Her path came to a jerking stop as something cold and sticky caught her hind leg. A scream tried to emerge from her throat, but Celestia forced it and her panic back. She had to think and react, not fly around randomly!

With a single burst of magic, she shredded the bubbling appendage attached to her leg. A piercing scream cut her eardrums as her wings bore her away.

Lies! Pain! Celestia! Dream! Purpose!

“I don’t care if it hurts, I will give you my love!”

Everything became light. Celestia channeled her magic and sent a single, wide beam of superheated light through the air. Spinning in midair, she sent the searing spell in every possible direction, head swinging wildly to try and catch as much of the shadow as possible. Wherever she looked, wriggling masses of shadow burst, sizzled and melted into a smoke-like steam. Accompanying the destruction was an endless screech like no sound Celestia had heard before.

Mother! Pain! Love me! Pain! Sparkle! Pain! Only me!

At last, the beam faded. Celestia panted, her throat parched and her wings trembling with every flap. Yet no matter where she looked, she could see no sign that her spell had significantly hindered her opponent. It was everywhere, everything! The orb above her head flickered, threatening to cast her into full darkness once more.

No. There must be a way out. I can’t fall now! Yet no matter how hard she flew, she could see no end to the dark. The joints of her wings ached, and she couldn’t regain control of her breathing. Why? She should have so much more magic left in her! There had to be something wrong, something draining her…

Love me! Celestia! Lies! Promised! Created! Purpose!

The voices were rising in volume once more, growing rapidly closer. Celestia eyed her surroundings frantically. She had to think of a solution, but the voices, the horrible voices! So familiar, so alien, so loud.

Mother! Hate! Only me! Celestia! Pain! Lied!

“Please!” Celestia sobbed and covered her ears. “Make it stop! Somepony! I can’t–”

The darkness moved. Her eyes snapped upwards in time to see the blackness consuming her last orb of light. As the light faded, visions flashed through her mind. Of Dova. Of Starswirl. Of fire and blood and pain and deceit and betrayal and so many failed, fallen dreams. As the light dimmed to nothingness, she let her wings go limp and fell.

“I will love you, Celestia, and you will love me!”

She dropped, long and fast, the barely discernible blackness falling after her. Celestia said nothing, only braced for the end. If only she could understand what she was here for in the first place, to give her end some meaning…

A bird’s cry met her ears, rising high above the cacophony of voices. It struck through Celestia’s depression just enough to pull her attention from the sickening black mere inches from her face. Something blue and purple streaked through the air, coming straight at her! The nightingale, stardust glittering along its path, flew like an arrowhead beneath the roiling shadows.

“No.” She twisted about, waived her hooves. “Stay away! It’ll take you too!”

The nightingale ignored her plea, and within seconds it smashed into her chest, disappearing in a flash of brilliant blue light.

An instant later, the coiling blackness engulfed her, and Celestia knew nothing.

Celestia. Can you hear me, Celestia?

Who is this?

It’s alright, Celestia. You did well.

I don’t understand. Where… Where am I?

Only where I wanted you to be.

That makes no sense. You make no sense.

Has anything made sense in a while?

I… I’m not sure. I don’t know when this began.

Not so long ago as it may seem.

Your voice. I know your voice.

Once, yes. Celestia. It’s almost over. You just need to tap into your strength once more.

Over? But I don’t even know why I am here.

Well, why did you come here to begin with?

I don’t know. I… My mind is…

There was something wrong, wasn’t there?

…yes.

Something fake.

Yes.

Something unnatural.

Yes. Yes! The world was wrong. B-but… But that doesn’t tell me what to do.

Act. Use your power. Your full power!

My power? I can’t. It’s hopeless.

Yours, perhaps. Tap into that which is yours to control!

Mine to control? I don’t…

The sun, Celestia! It’s right there. Use it!

The sun? The sun.

Yes!

H-how could I have forgotten? My charge, my ward. Why did I—?

We did not want you to remember, so you didn’t. I want you to remember, so you do.

You’re not making sense again. Who are you?

One who has been waiting a long time to see you again.

A long time?

Do it, Celestia. Let the sun rise.

Sunrise. Dawn.

Let it be dawn again.

Yes… Yes! The sun is mine!

Use it! Break free!

Rise!

Free!

Heat. Fire. Pure, unquenchable flame! It seared Celestia’s every surface, the untamable fury of the sun itself answering her call. And she unleashed it in every direction, an inferno of steady annihilation.

The darkness retreated, but couldn’t move fast enough. It shrieked, the inequine cries reaching out from every possible direction as the white hot plasma spread wide and wild. Celestia basked in the pure glow of a power only she could tap, a power that no darkness could dream of shrouding.

Amidst the howling chaos came a cry of desperation, barely a whisper beneath the maelstrom.

Celestia! Please! It hurts! Stop, stop, stop!

But it did not stop. Celestia poured more ferocity into the spell even as she cursed the black that had come so close to consuming her. She did this not for her own protection, not because of how close she came to succumbing. No, this time Celestia’s ire came from another source: Twilight Sparkle. She did not know if Twilight lived or had ever lived, but the idea that this abomination had dared to impersonate a pony so precious, so innocent, so dear to her heart seared her mind more than any other affront could. And so she responded with a ferocity and fury she’d not known since the assassination of a beloved pupil and friend so many centuries past.

"I only wanted your love! Celestia!”

The creature’s pleas and shrieks fell upon deaf ears. Soon, they fell upon nothing, fading amidst the constant roar of the flame.

And still Celestia unleashed her power. She howled and raged and burned, releasing all the pain and anger she’d been holding back since this foul quest had started. For hours, perhaps days, she let the fires consume this damned, loathsome facsimile of a world. Everything it was, everything it might be, everything it had been. And with every passing moment of fire and fury, one thought seared her mind:

This is not Equestria!

After an eternity of flame finally began to sputter out, and she’d screamed the last of her energy, she closed off her connection to the sun. With her magic consumed and her energy spent, Celestia fell through a sky still blazing with the heat of a living star. She made no effort to open her wings, took no interest in controlling her descent.

She only wondered, wearily, if she would wake up to anything at all.

Chapter IX

Sound brought her back to the world. A rushing noise, rising and falling in a steady rhythm. At once familiar, and yet also alien, like something she had not heard in many moons. It was Celestia’s curious grasping for a name to the sound that allowed her to escape the realm of unconsciousness.

Despite the fresh memory of flying through darkness in fear of a desperate beast, Celestia felt only calm as she opened her eyes. They settled upon a dark horizon of endless water, and her curiosity was instantly sated by the sight of waves lapping against a sandy beach. She lay upon soft grass, a little oasis on a vast coast of sand and rock. How had she come to be here? Curiously, it didn’t seem all that important.

What was important was the figure sitting a few feet away, staring through her as if she wasn’t even there. Queen Chrysalis, her eyes glazed and her shoulders slumped, appeared as if she were in a trance.

That ended when Celestia rose to her hooves. Chrysalis blinked, her gaze settling upon Celestia. She promptly straightened her posture. “Ah, you’re finally awake.”

“Indeed.” Celestia stretched languidly, hearing the joints in her wings pop. She felt… better. Like a weight had been taken from her back and her mind had been freed from some crippling imprisonment. As she settled upon her haunches, she took time to study her old foe. Chrysalis appeared every bit as she recalled; supple, strong, and confident.

Chrysalis smiled, but there was none of the expected pettiness in it. “I told you we would meet again.”

“So you did.” Celestia examined their surroundings. The beach seemed to stretch on forever, just as, at her back, she found a seemingly endless desert of rock. The sky glimmered with stars. “So, this is the end of the journey. West, to the edge of the world.”

“Is that what you think?” At Celestia’s silent stare, Chrysalis shrugged. “It’s only a question.”

Celestia hummed, then turned her gaze to the ocean. The longer she stared, the less sure of herself she felt. One part of her mind wanted to dive beneath the water’s surface, confident that whatever she’d been seeking all this time would be there. Yet another, much louder voice begged her to flee this place, for no good could come of it. There was darkness here, beyond that of the night sky and her unusual companion.

She took another look at said companion. “You are not really Chrysalis, are you?”

The changeling queen cocked her head, her long green mane spilling over her shoulder. “What makes you say that?”

“I just know.” Which was the truth; though she couldn’t fathom why, Celestia was absolutely certain of her claim. “Although I suppose it helps to note that you didn’t kill me in my sleep.”

“You know me so well, do you?” Chrysalis smiled once more, and again, there was no rebuke in either her expression or her tone. “So if I am not really Chrysalis, who am I?”

“That I cannot answer.” Another glance at the ocean made Celestia’s insides squirm, so she kept her attention on the… not-Chrysalis before her. “But I believe you are the same Chrysalis I fought before, back when this all began. I think you’ve been part of this illusion all along.”

“This illusion?” Chrysalis pursed her lips. “So you think none of this is real.”

“My student became a monster before my very eyes.” Perhaps the thought should have horrified her. Instead, she felt… weary. “So many things have happened. Now that I have a cleared head, I realize they were all a bit fantastical. Overblown.” She considered her last moments of awareness, the way Twilight Sparkle… died? Contrasted with her current state of mind, “I feel as if I’ve been purged of my illness, if illness it was.”

She studied Chrysalis, who now possessed a troubled expression. “What is the matter?”

Chrysalis did not answer immediately. She rubbed her chin with the back of a fetlock, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. “It is only… you think none of this is real.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “You propose otherwise?”

“It’s real,” her companion muttered. “All of it. At least, in a sense. If we gave you something fake, you’d have noticed right away.”

Ears perked. Pulse quickened. Celestia leaned closer, but found her eyes drifting to the ever-lapping waves. “Explain yourself. What are you, and what have you done to me?”

“Who I am isn’t important,” Chrysalis countered, but without force. “What I gave you was paradise. And you rejected it. You rejected our gift. Why would you reject it?” She stepped sideways, blocking Celestia’s view of the ocean. “You don’t want to leave, do you? I mean, you were happy, right?”

“How could I have been happy in a fake world?” Stepping around Chrysalis, Celestia approached the water. “Why… am I drawn to the ocean?” Her every step felt heavier as she closed in on the waves, her hooves sinking deep in the coarse sand, yet she refused to stop. As much as her mind told her to keep away, something else pushed her forward.

Chrysalis walked beside her, eyes wide and wings buzzing lightly. “Where are you going? We’re talking.”

“The ocean,” she whispered. “Something’s down there.”

“That’s called fish,” came the droning reply. “It’s water. Now come on, you should head back home.”

All thoughts stopped. The fear swelled within like a monster in its own right, attempting to root Celestia’s hooves to the sand. But she was more than used to defending herself against these attacks – for she had no doubt at all that this was an attack. She whipped around so fast Chrysalis almost fell in her effort to back away. Her eyes went wide at the snarl in Celestia’s voice. “Who are you? What are you? How are you putting these thoughts and emotions into my head? Speak, monster!”

“Monster?” At last, the creature dared to raise its voice. “All I wanted to do was protect you! To save your mind like you refuse to do for others! I came here to warn you: go back. You’ll find nothing on this path but more pain and bitterness. You don’t need to be a hero anymore.”

“I never saw myself as a hero!”

Now it was Chrysalis who snarled. “Oh, that is rich. Celestia, the Sun Incarnate, the Glory of Equestria, the All-Seeing and All-Knowing Eye of the Land, doesn’t think she’s a hero?”

Celestia’s heart raced and her blood boiled. Her magic… her magic was weak, but that didn’t stop her from looming over the creature. “Nopony has called me by those titles in centuries. How do you know them?” She peeled her lips back and stomped closer. “How do you know what my parents looked like? Or Dova, or Starswirl?”

Chrysalis practically vibrated with apparent fury, yet she slowly forced her mouth closed and took a deep breath through her nose. When she answered, it was in a low, threatening tone. “You are treading dangerous ground, Princess. I came here to help you, to prevent you from making another foolish mistake.” She thrust her hoof out to the water. “You don’t want to know what is out there. You were never the fighter, always the diplomat. I tell you now, down there you will fight, and you are already dangerously weakened.”

The waters were calm, the sound of their steady rhythm soothing. Yet the water was black as coal, and still Celestia felt that niggling fear in the back of her mind just by its proximity. All of this, combined with Chrysalis’s manner, made something clear to her. “You don’t want me to go down there.”

The changeling, if changeling it was, stared at her tight-lipped and hunched. It said nothing, but hidden behind the aggressive posturing were the eyes of discomfort and alarm. It was all Celestia needed; she turned for the ocean.

“Where are you going?”

“You don’t want me to enter the water,” Celestia replied. “Which means that is where I must now go.”

“What? No!” Chrysalis walked alongside her, baring her fangs. “Have you not been listening? There’s nothing for you that way!”

The water splashed over their hooves, sending a chill up Celestia’s legs that threatened to take the breath from her lungs. It wasn’t just the cold, but a lingering anxiety that grew stronger with every step. Yet she refused to listen to that irrational instinct. Her journey was not yet over.

“Stop. Celestia. Celestia! Please, stop!”

Chrysalis continued to follow, even as the water rose up above their knees. She stayed with Celestia, and yet she made no physical or magical effort to slow her down. Buoyed by this awareness, Celestia pushed back the wall of horror clawing at her confidence. It was just salt water. No more, no less.

“You’re going to ignore me?” At last, Chrysalis paused, falling behind. “Ignore me like always? Just go on ahead with your own plans, never listen to what anypony else has to say?” When Celestia kept walking, she began to shout. “You pigheaded child! You haven’t changed at all, have you? You’re going to die, do you hear me? You’re going to ignore me and get yourself killed!”

Celestia said nothing, but not because she was ignoring Chrysalis. No, she kept her lips tightly sealed for fear that if she did speak, it would reveal the lie of her outer calm. The water was up to her chest now,so terribly cold. Though the waves were low, they threatened to rise above her chin at any second. Celestia’s heart was clutched in a vice-like grip, her breathing haggard and faster than normal.

At last, she stopped. Her gaze flicked across the waves, the salty smell of the sea invading her nostrils and threatening to uproot her hard-won surety. What was she supposed to do now? Her hoof trembled when she tried to move it forward, and it had little to do with the friged water. It landed on nothing; there was a drop-off right in front of her. The fact made her pull back, a burst of air escaping her lungs. Down. I need to go down. But what was down? Why did she need to go? Something important was there. She knew it, she could feel it, like an invisible chain tugging on her chest. Something valuable only to her.

“You can’t do it, can you?” Chrysalis appeared at her side. Walking on the water. She smiled at Celestia, a calming, warm expression. “It’s alright, Celestia. There’s no shame in that. Let me bring you home. We can try again. I promise, I’ll make a better world this time.”

A better world? A world where she was ignorant, where everything was hoofed to her on a silver platter, where all her dreams of peace and prosperity for her ponies were reality. Yet all a lie. Celestia considered this possibility as she stared into Chrysalis’s patient visage.

Then she dove, the chill assaulting her senses like tiny needles across the whole of her body. Yet she swam down, using her wings and legs in tandem as water filled her vision, stifled her sense of smell, and muffled her ears.

For all that, Chrysalis’s fury rang clearly through the water, as if it weren’t even there. “Fine! You want to throw away our gifts, you throw them away! Go down there and get yourself killed, see if we care! It’s not as if you cared about anypony else, why should we care about you?”

Ears folded back against the rush of water, Celestia pushed herself down deeper. She battled with her body, fighting to keep her heart calm to preserve her oxygen. It didn’t cooperate. That little voice in the back of her mind was screaming.

It’s all over!

It’s so dark!

Cold. So cold. This was a bad idea.

Why am I doing this?

I’m going to drown!

What was I thinking?

There’s nothing down there!

Go back. Go back. Go back!

No! She swam. Down. Into the depths. Into the darkness. Her frantic heartbeats would not dissuade her!

“What goal? Death? Will you be a martyr? That’s just like you, to try to make yourself out to be so special!”

The voice… it was changing. Lighter, but still with a hard edge to it. Young.

Familiar.

“What will all your precious ponies do when they find out you killed yourself over—" an emotion, a niggling feeling that you just couldn’t ignore?

It was more than that. It had to be! Though her lungs began to burn, Celestia refused to acknowledge her need for air. There were things far more important. It was within reach, it had to be!

You will never know, because you’re going to get yourself killed. Drowned like a stupid rat! Is that all you are, Celestia? Vermin too dumb to know when to head for shore?

If only she could identify that voice…

Why do you keep swimming? Why? Do you not want to live?

Of course she did. But she had responsibilities. She had to find it. She had to ignore the fire in her lungs. Keep swimming. Down. Deeper. Farther. It was there, she knew it!

She… could fail. She’d failed before. It might happen again. Here. Now. But she was so close!

It will. I can feel your lungs. They’re going to burst soon. You will die if you don’t turn back now. Turn back, Celestia. Turn back and admit your failure!

No. She’d never turn back. Not to that. Never to that! Her mind begged for air, but she kept going deeper. Even if she failed.

Even if she died.

And you will. You’re going to die. And for what? You’re worthless.

Far too late.

She’d never make it back to the surface.

I can get you back. Let me save you.

Her head and her lungs agreed. They screamed at her for mercy, for pity, working to lock her thrashing limbs.

She would not yield! This was ending on her terms.

You… You stupid pony! Will you not accept my help even for this?

Temptation gnawed at her, but she slapped it down with another thrust of her trembling wings. Its help could only lead to lies. Even if she never reached the truth…

Truth? You want truth? You’re a stupid bitch, and you’re going to die! How’s that for truth?

Nopony will remember you. Nopony will care. And why should they?

A little more…

I hate you.

The darkness was growing. Just a little more…

You deserve it.

Keep swimming…

I can still save you. Just give up.

Down…

Give up.

She really was going to die.

Give up.

But she would never go back.

Give up!

One more stroke. One more kick.

Please, give up!

The world twisted.

Visions. Sights, sounds, tastes, smells, feelings. Air! Too fast to take in, all in an indecipherable mess of awareness!

You… you bitch.

Celestia faced the peculiar feeling of down becoming up. The waters surged, taking her with them. The cold dissipated in a fresh wave of something warm, and growing warmer.

I gave you everything! I made you happy!

Faces swam through Celestia’s vision. Dova, Starswirl, her parents, Twilight.

Her lungs sucked in, and though there was no air to be gained, she felt rejuvenated and refreshed. Gone was the pain, the darkness, the crushing sensation. And with that, the giddy knowledge that she wasn't going to die!

Why couldn’t you accept it? Why?

Names swept through her brain. Raven. Shining Armor. Twilight Sparkle. Fancy Pants. Cadance. A stream of recollections came with each, faster and brighter and stronger. A thousand years of forgotten memories cascaded across her brain as the waters propelled her faster and faster to the surface. She leaned into it, tucked in her legs and wings such that she might move faster with the mighty flow!

You can’t come back. I won’t let you come back!

Power the likes of which Celestia had never even conceived coursed through her veins. It was magic, burning beyond the hottest of fires, yet all the more soothing for it. A name arose. A face, a memory, a trauma.

Go back. Don’t think about it. Forget it! She doesn’t care about you, you shouldn’t care about—

“Luna!”

The world erupted in brilliant white light. Fire seared every facet of her vision, roaring in an endless cacophony of beautiful music. Yet it meant so little, for Celestia had regained that one piece of the puzzle that made everything come together. She had a little sister, and Luna was waiting for her. Waiting… in Equestria. She could feel Luna’s aura, her cool and turbulent presence. Not on high, no…

She’d come home.

She exploded through the last layer of resistance and into open space. The flaming surface of the Sun met her in every direction save up. Her eyes fell first upon the blue and green orb that was Equestria. Then she saw something else, something that made her heart swell: the moon, pale and lacking a familiar silhouette. As her power grew by the second, bolstered by a now-unfettered connection to her charge, she set her gaze upon home. She was just in time to see a dot of light on a surface of dark green, multihued and glorious in spite of its size.

Celestia aimed her body towards the planet, eagerness and determination mixing in her heart. “Do not worry, little sister. I’m coming.”

She streaked through space, a fiery comet in the dark.

Author's Note

The First Night

Celestia watched as her little sister stepped gingerly into the room. Her pale blue mane hung limp from her shoulders as she took in the bed with its dark sheets and starry quilt. Gradually, as if expecting to find an illusion, Luna pressed her hoof to the soft covers.

“It’s just as it was when you left,” Celestia said, her voice betraying her anxiety.

Luna’s response was soft. Barely a whisper. “I noticed.” She raised her head, taking in the ceiling full of glittering stars. “You even kept the ceiling enchantments intact. They should have faded after only a decade.”

“Yes.” Shuffling hooves. Fidgeting wings. Celestia tried to smile for her sibling. “Once every five years. I’d stay the night.” Her head bowed low. “I used to read you to sleep. It’s not the same when you’re not really there anymore.”

Soft, hesitant steps. Luna’s hooves appeared in her vision. Celestia raised her head and met blue eyes filled with doubt and concern in equal measure. “You… missed me.”

“More than you know. I—” Her words were interrupted by Luna’s sudden hug. Her fears fading, she lowered her head to rub her neck with the little pony she’d longed to see again. She wanted to speak, to explain how her heart felt like it might burst, or why her eyes burned with fresh tears. Yet no words escaped her, for her throat denied their release.

It was Luna who broke the silence. “I’m sorry I trapped you in the sun.”

Celestia chuckled and squeezed her sister all the tighter. “It’s alright. I might have had it coming, all things considered.” She settled to her haunches and sighed, content in this long-desired closeness. “If anything, I should be thanking you.”

Pulling her head back to meet Celestia’s gaze, Luna frowned. “For what? For trying to get rid of you?”

“For treating me better than I treated you.” Celestia turned her gaze to the illusionary starscape over their heads. As was always the case, the lack of a moon up there left a heavy feeling in her heart. “I put you in a lonely, isolating place. You tried to create an imaginary world where all my dreams came true. Your plan was far kinder.” When Luna said nothing to this, Celestia looked down to find her sibling staring at the floor, face hidden behind her pale blue mane. “Luna?”

A soft mumble was the only response. She tilted her head down to nuzzle the sister’s cheek. “Please. Talk to me?”

Luna hesitated for a time, but at last gave her quiet answer. “I lost faith.”

“In what?”

“In you.” Her sister raised a wing over her face. Her shoulders trembled beneath Celestia’s pinions. “I thought the Nightmare had won. So I… I helped it create that fantasy for you. It performed the magic, I offered advice. Like bringing M-Mother and Father back.”

A smile came unbidden to Celestia’s lips. “I appreciate what you were trying to do.”

A lone blue eye glared from just over those feathers. “I helped make your prison. How can you appreciate that?”

Gently brushing the wing aside, Celestia met her gaze and tried to portray all the warmth in her heart with a smile. “You could have banished me to the moon for a thousand years.” Pressing her forehead against that of her sibling, she let the smile fade with that warmth. “I wish I could have offered you something similar.”

“Tia, I…” Luna pressed back, but feebly. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

Perhaps ignoring the topic would be unwise, but Celestia could not bring herself to press the matter. Her dear sister would need time to recover. What good would come of opening fresh wounds? “If that is your wish. Just promise me we will be able to speak of this later.”

“I promise. Just… not now.”

Pulling away, Celestia brought her smile back, even if it lacked the help of that warm glow she’d felt mere moments ago. “In that case, could I ask you a question?”

Luna’s ears folded back and she shrank a little, though she made no attempt to escape Celestia’s feathery embrace. “I suppose?” She looked for all the world like a foal who’d been caught with her hoof in the cookie jar.

Ah, there was that warm feeling. Celestia reveled both in it and the pleasant awareness that her sister could be so precious once again. It had been so long, even before the banishment. A reminder of old times…

She shook herself out of the brief reverie and asked the first question on her mind. “Starswirl. Sleeping in the ribbons and pulleys. Wherever did that come from?”

Her little sister stared, expression slack and eyes dull.

Then she burst into peals of laughter. She leaned heavily against Celestia’s chest, clinging to her with her legs while her wings hung limp, and let the laughter shake them both. Celestia grinned. A victory in the face of despair! To hear her sibling's laughter so soon after her return made her heart swell.

“Oh, Tia!” Luna stepped back and wiped a tear from her eye. “Only you would think to ask that first, of all things. I caught Starswirl doing that once. He swore me to secrecy, acting like I’d caught him sleeping with some call mare!” Huffing one last recovery breath, she rubbed her chin with a fetlock and grinned. “He never did tell me what it was all about, though I teased him relentlessly about it for over a year.”

“Alas, a mystery for the ages.” Celestia giggled, but her mind was already being diverted to more interesting topics. Now that Pinkie Pie was on the mind, she recalled something… peculiar. “In the world you made for me, something strange happened. I met a pony in the Everfree Forest. I didn’t know her at the time, but—”

“The pink one.” Perplexity drew itself across Luna’s face, her lips set in a contemplative frown. “I… I honestly have no idea. She surprised both myself and the Nightmare, so much so the illusion almost broke then and there. I would very much like to inquire as to how she managed to slip in and back out of an illusionary world set in the sun.” She stomped and shook her head. “How frustrating! We lost an opportunity at that ‘party’.”

Celestia made a mental note to investigate this matter at a later time. An ability like what Pinkie revealed would be extremely valuable. Curious as the earth pony was, there were more personal matters to discuss.

"There was one other thing. Why did you not give the world a moon? It seems like quite the glaring omission."

Luna sobered, her eyes falling to the floor once more. It took her a while longer to respond, but Celestia gave her the time she needed. "We... I thought you would hate me. The moon would just be a reminder of that, of me. So the Nightmare decided to do away with it and any memory of my existence. The idea was that you'd be happier never knowing you had a sibling to loathe."

"Oh, Lulu..." Celestia brought her body closer to her sibling, nuzzling her cheek. "I never hated you. I was never even angry at you. Only confused and lost. It was the absence of the moon that really made me understand something was wrong. If it was gone, then you were truly lost to me. Even on a subconscious level, I could not let that happen."

Luna smiled. A fragile thing, but Celestia would take it. Luna didn't speak on the matter, and Celestia decided it wouldn't do to press this topic right now. She had the rest of their very long lives to reiterate her love on a daily basis. It would sink in with time. Surely.

Now it was time for a question that had Celestia hesitating. “Um, there was just one more thing…”

Down went the corners of Luna’s lips again. “Y-yes?”

Dread swelled within Celestia’s chest like a lead weight. Yet she persevered, for this was a question that needed answering above all others. “How did you know of Twilight, and… and why did you think she was… was…” Saying it out loud was too much, even now. She stared at Luna, hoping that the answer wouldn’t be what she feared.

Luna looked away, her cheeks turning a bright pink. She worked her jaw as if flexing it for some strenuous speech to come. “I fear I must apologize again. The truth is that I looked into your recent memories. I only intended to use them to help create a world you’d be able to recognize, for I knew my own information would be outdated.”

Celestia sucked down a sharp breath. It was not anger that lodged her tongue to the roof of her throat, but the same clinging dread that gripped her like a vice. It was some seconds before she was able to free her mouth from that hold. “I… I won’t hold that against you. B-but how did looking into my mind make you think that Twilight and I were…” She swallowed heavily and glanced away.

It seemed Luna had just as much difficulty with this topic as she did. Face turned away, she tapped the tips of her hooves together. Her appearance was so much smaller than even her present form should have allowed. “I saw her so often in your memories. Foalhood to young adult. She always appeared so happy around you, and you so happy around her. There was love there, I could feel it. It wasn’t that kind of love, and I knew that.

“But the Nightmare saw it too. She mistook it and… made it more than it was.” She shot Celestia a meek glance from around glowing cheeks. “I’m sorry, Celestia. She decided to do that. Twilight was created to be your lover because the creature assigned you a similar morality to its own. It didn’t understand the kind of love you and Twilight share, and I couldn’t stop it.”

Despite Luna’s trepidation, Celestia felt the dread draining from her, and her nervous energy along with it. She slumped forward and let the air from her lungs in a long, slow exhale. “For a while I thought you’d seen something within myself that I hadn’t.”

“Rest assured,” Luna replied, “Twilight is to you naught but a beloved student and friend.”

“That is reassuring.” Regaining her tired smile, Celestia thought back on her prized pupil and how she’d behaved in the world of illusion. “It is also relieving. At least I had to turn down a fake entity and not the real thing.”

Her sister considered her with a neutral expression that brought a touch of uncertainty back into her mind. “What is it?”

Having yet to recover from her shrunken posture, Luna replied, “Most of the individuals you met were indeed illusions. But Twilight… It wasn’t Twilight, but it was still a perceptive being.”

Celestia stared at her sibling in silence. Perceptive? As in alive? That creature that looked and acted like Twilight, that claimed unwavering adoration over her… that was real? “H-how?”

Yet again, Luna averted her gaze. “The Nightmare thought that your connection with her was so close you’d recognize a mindless form immediately. And so she took a little bit of my… our life essence and used it to create an intelligent creature based upon your memories of Twilight Sparkle and her own expectations of what your relationship was. The pony you knew as your student in that world was real, or at least as close to real as we could make it.”

Celestia gazed at nothing, memories swirling in her head. She remembered Twilight’s constant fretting and efforts to make her happy, her beaming smile, her anxious desire to stay in Celestia’s room… the teleporting chase in the archives. “You mean… I killed a living thing?”

“In a sense.” Luna flinched when Celestia’s stare turned on her. “The essence that created her merely flowed back into me.”

“But the spirit, the personality, the individual.” Celestia leaned a little closer, gazing at blue eyes that refused to meet her own. “That is gone, isn’t it?” She held her breath, uncertain of the reason behind the tightness in her stomach.

When her sister nodded, that tightness tripled. A little gasp left her. “I… I killed a creature whose only real crime was loving me.”

Luna spoke hurriedly. “Her love would have smothered you. You’d have never left the sun.”

“That’s not the point.” She sat back and folded her legs to her chest, a feeble defense against the fire in her heart. “Even if she was merely a construct, she didn’t deserve what happened. I should have tried to help her, and instead I… I broke her heart and burned her body.”

“A black, hideous body!” Luna took Celestia’s hooves in her own, her expression pleading. “You musn’t do this, dear sister. That creature was my creation, and her actions were thus my doing. I gave her free will to act on her own, the adoration that kept her at your side, and the purpose of holding you forever in that prison. If anypony is to be blamed—”

“Do not say it.” Celestia planted a hoof to Luna’s lips. She felt so worn and weary and beaten, the last thing she desired was to see her sister attack herself more. “Do not say it, please. I know how you must feel, but I ask you try to understand my feelings as well. Blaming ourselves or one another will not undo what was done, and no good shall come of us competing over who is more miserable about it.”

Even after the hoof left her lips, Luna continued to study her with a wilted posture. Yet there was a thoughtfulness accompanying her sadness. At last, she spoke. “You were always the wiser of us.”

With a sigh, Celestia replied, “I don’t feel very wise. But… I am so very glad to know you are back. If we must dwell on anything, can it please be that?”

“I would like that.” Luna set her eyes upon her bed, her pose not improving in the slightest. “I would like that very much. It is just… trying.”

“I know.” Celestia watched her little sister for a time, her body feeling heavy with the weight of those limp wings. Yet she wouldn’t pursue the doubts and worries any longer. She had to follow her own advice, lest Luna fail to do so. A glance at the windows revealed an orange light. Somehow, it made her all the sadder. “I’ll have to lower the sun soon.” She dared not mention that she would be continuing to manipulate the moon; her sibling was in no condition, physical or otherwise, to handle the task yet.

Though it seemed impossible, Luna seemed to become even smaller. She clenched her eyes tightly closed and nodded. “I understand.”

They remained that way for a while, Luna appearing as a foal who’d been harshly reprimanded and Celestia longing for the words that would put her sister at ease. Yet the words would not come. How could she possibly comfort her, considering the circumstances? Waiting for time to heal these wounds felt cowardly, but at least Celestia could be assured that being able to raise the moon in time would help.

Heart in her hooves, she turned to go. Her mouth was open to bid her sister goodnight, but…

“Tia?”

She paused, not quite turned away. There could be no looking back. That voice had been so fragile, and Celestia doubted even she had the strength to hide the pain it brought her. Luna didn’t need to see that. “Yes, Lu?”

“Do you have to lower the sun from the tower?”

Did she have to? “Well, no. I could do it anywhere.”

Legs wrapped around her from behind. A warm cheek pressed against the spot between her wings.

“Stay with me tonight? P-please?”

How strange, the way that simple query made her heart swell and float up from where it had been lying on the floor. Celestia turned about to return the embrace, ignoring the burn in her eyes as she wrapped her wings once more about her sibling’s small, fragile form. “Of course, Lu.

“For as long as we need.”

Author's Note

And so it ends. This story took over a year to develop, and most of that time was spent in the editing phase while I dragged my feet. My eternal thanks to Pascoite and OnionPie for their patience with me; I'm not the most friendly person when in editing mode, especially when I have good editors to tell me everything I'm doing wrong. Which was a lot. Ultimately, I am happy with the end result, and I think that has a lot to do with their input, whether I liked it or not.

This story was originally conceived shortly after I finished The Gentle Nights: Audience of One. At first conception, Songbird was meant to be a sister-story to AoO, but over time it grew into its own unique, unrelated tale. The concept itself was strongly inspired by the Nightwish song The Escapist, which is also the indirect source of the story's name (it was originally going to be called Birdcage, but OnionPie convinced me that was too on-the-nose). I would have made that the theme song of the story, but decided I had used Nightwish one too many times already. Celtic Woman's Awakening hit all the right notes, fit the theme I wanted perfectly, and had the advantage of being by someone I'd never used for this purpose before.

Another serious motivator behind this story's existence is that, until now, I'd not written a story staring or heavily focusing on Celestia. Even granting my undying love of Princess Luna (still best pone!), this seemed unfair and unbalanced, so writing this was my solution. I'm afraid it lacks the... enthusiasm of my Luna-based material, but I tried to show with this that Celestia does have her own special little corner in my heart.

My thanks to everyone who followed Celestia's journey. I hope you enjoyed it!