Kaleidoscope

by _Moonshot

Rating: teen
Tags: Drama, Violence, Princess Celestia, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe
Length: 2126

Inspiration is a strange thing. There's no predicting where it comes from, nor where it can take you.

Once upon a time, Princess Celestia was a pegasus.

She didn't choose to become immortal.

Done with a challenge by rainsilent to write a story that changes scenes every paragraph.

Take a look into the Kaleidoscope.

Second place in the Kaleidoscope writing challenge for the Quills and Sofas Speedwriting group. The challenge was to write a story based around the same title, prompt and cover. An explanation can be found here, credit to The Seer.

Recommended If You Enjoy Experimental Fiction by Present Perfect

Published 2019-11-30 22:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-11-30 22:40:01 UTC

The Phoenix

The story began and ended when Celestia was saved from death.

Lying in a hospital bed, Celestia’s vision swam. Shapes and sounds, pastel blobs in a sea of fog clouded her, waves crashing against her mind. To her left, blue—Luna?—was shouting something. Waving her hooves to bring Celestia back. She blinked twice, trying to get the spots out of her eyes. The air smelled sterile, rubbing alcohol puncturing her nostrils. She slowly became aware of a dull ringing in her ears, and then throbbing—her heartbeat beating out of her chest. Her head twitched, fighting a losing battle. The spots won, blackness enveloping her, and then, and then!

Celestia found herself on the shores of a lake, seashells crunching under her hoofsteps. Mind swirling, she took the raised path to the center of the lake, a single, unnatural procession of damp pebbles and rocks. Overhead, vultures circled, screeching, searching for weakened prey. Perhaps Celestia would do.

In the distance, a raging army. Celestia rallied her troops, raising her banner and projecting a ruthless war cry. Pointing an armored hoof forward, she roared, and her militia charged. Celestia found herself embroiled in a fight against three soldiers. She cut down the first with sharpened wing blades, swinging upwards in a perfect arc. For a moment, she lifted her head, observing the blood drops rising in slow motion. Then, she arched downwards, kicking off the ground, and leaned forwards. She flipped head first, hind leg colliding with the second, and he crumpled to the ground wordlessly. The third retreated, raising her shield, bearing a fearless snarl. But in the soldier’s eyes, Celestia saw fear. She steadied herself, and pounced.

On the hill, an awesome light. Celestia collapsed to the ground in fear, though she didn’t know why. The vultures were gone, replaced only by the deadly rays of heat enveloping the ground, angry orange and yellow wisps setting the grass alight. Celestia swore she could hear an orchestra thundering before her, a swathe of cellos, double basses, and contrabassoons humming a low D, accompanied by the chanting of drums as the light crackled with energy. As Celestia cowered, she felt something stirring within her, and she began to creep forward, like a moth drawn to a flame. As she trembled, a voice: “Are you worthy?”

“No,” said Celestia to her mother, whimpering, hiding herself with her wings in a darkened corner of the room, tightening herself to appear as small as possible. “I am not.”

She approached the center of the lake, and in front of her a small island rose, washing the clear water and fish away. As she stepped onto the island, it began to rumble, and at its center a small, cylindrical platform made of stone began to rise, causing the pebbles to give way. Celestia let go of the breath she realized she’d been holding, and waited.

“Sister!” Another voice. Celestia’s eyes snapped open, but she quickly squeezed them shut as another wave of pain wracked her body. In the distance, she could hear desperate calls begging for her attention, but she shook her head to make them go away. Something was missing, something important. She felt something hard press on her chest, and she writhed in pain until the hoof withdrew. She focused on the one thing she could make out: her heartbeat. She breathed carefully, listening to it struggling to catch up. Then, the flames within her mind’s eye shifted again, and she was gone.

There she was, thundering across the plains like a corkscrew arrow towards the third soldier. She felt especially angry at this one, though she didn’t know why. Something about the way she held the sword wrong, as if she knew she would lose against Celestia. The abandoned look of determination, panic setting in as the soldier averted her gaze, pleading with the gods in her last moments. Then, peace, as she accepted her fate as the greatest honor she could receive: sacrificing her life for her country and the generations proceeding her.

Celestia hated it. Hated when they were so imperfect, hated when she was so perfect. Hated that she could strike down her mother at any time, but refused to do so out of the good in her heart. Hated the fear that stirred within her own heart as her mother towered above her, rolling pin in hoof, empty beer bottle in the other. She watched between two wing feathers as her mother raised the pin, blocking out what little light streaked through the cracked windows. Then, a question: “Are you worthy?” Celestia braced herself as the pin swung downwards.

For a second, there was silence, and Celestia scrambled backwards, fearing a response that didn’t come. Instead, another question: “Why are you here?” Celestia didn’t know, or maybe she was too afraid to answer. She prostrated herself to the ground, ignoring her tattered mane, whimpering against the blazing topsoil. She could smell the acrid ashes now, hear the roaring blaze encircling her. But, something inside of her clicked, like fog clearing, and she looked up at with lucid eyes as beams of light came streaking towards her.

A chest stood at the center of the stone platform. Celestia approached it cautiously, slinking in a circle around it before lightly tapping it with a hoof. It sprang open, not revealing a sword or shield, as she had predicted, but a small shell. She wrinkled her brow, gingerly scooping up the shell in her wings, lifting it up to observe it in the afternoon sunlight. It glittered prettily, and as Celestia squinted, she jumped as the chest snapped shut and the stone platform retracted back into the ground. Unsure, she waited a moment for something else to happen. When nothing did, she frowned, turning to leave, shell in wing.

When Celestia turned back, the scent of death greeted her. She flicked the blood off her wing blades, watching calmly as the soldier hovered, as if suspended by a single string, then collapsed to the ground. Celestia spat, and turned back towards the raging battle. Snarling, she spread her wings and charged again.

“Sister, please!” The voice echoed in Celestia’s head, bouncing off hollow walls. She groaned, trying to find the words that were at the tip of her tongue. Thoughts were beginning to come to her now. As she began to approach clarity, memories flashed before her, and she opened her mouth. Instead of speaking, she screamed. She felt the room growing warmer.

It was sweltering hot inside the crowded classroom. Celestia fidgeted in her small chair, absentmindedly playing with her mane as her teacher lectured about the Old Gods, mythical deities who controlled the forces of nature. Celestia raised a confident hoof. “I don’t believe any of it.” She coughed and continued as her teacher glared. “There’s no rhyme or reason to it. Nopony is looking out for us.”

She regretted saying it all. She wished there were gods looking out for her, so she wouldn’t have to endure the pain alone. Blow after blow, Celestia refused to cry out, her only method of defiance. Her mother had taught her how to keep quiet, after all.

She winced in pain as the first beam of sunlight pierced her. Then the second, and the third. Body exposed, she flailed helplessly, writhing and pulling at random to no avail. Then, she felt herself being lifted, and she screamed as she was pulled towards the sun’s unforgiving surface. The voice again. “You are not worthy.”

Why was it Celestia who led the ponies to war? As she cut down another, she mumbled, “I am not worthy.” Then, she felt cold steel in her chest. She looked down numbly at her dripping blood, then turned around to face the soldiers who had lured her into the trap.

The sun rumbled, as if growling, solar flares erupting over its surface. “You are worth nothing.”

Celestia glanced back at the small island, then at the small shell in her wings. “Nothing,” she muttered. “Nothing at all. Useless.”

The sun seemed to expand as Celestia drew closer, enveloping her as the world began to slip away. The trees, reduced to dust, billowed in the violent air. And the noise, the noise. Amidst the deafening din, the sun continued. “You had nothing to say.”

Celestia swallowed hard as the beating continued, not daring to utter a single word.

Celestia felt herself beginning to melt away. She began to kick and thrash even harder, swinging at the light that she could not touch, but that kept pulling her upwards. “Nothing to learn.”

She felt the heat on her cheeks as her classmates taunted her, jeering as the teacher snapped her book shut, shaking her head.

Just before her hooves could touch the surface, she stopped rising. Eventually, she stopped struggling, and found herself staring at the sun’s surface, the light somehow not blinding her. It was oddly peaceful, in a way.

Celestia was in limbo. There was a watch in her left hoof, and when she turned the dials fragments of her life replayed before her eyes. She wasn’t sure what came first, or what was yet to happen. Then, she saw the sun.

“And she who deems herself the least worthy shall become the most.”

Celestia’s eyes snapped open again, and she saw the world a little clearer than before. As she pushed herself up, Luna embraced her over the flames, and she whispered, “What?” Something was wrong, incomplete. But she was so, so close. Her tongue screamed at her mind to push it out.

“And she who is deemed the most worthy shall become my master.”

Celestia set the watch down, and waited. Now she understood.

Then, the sun grabbed her, and dragged her beneath the surface.

She understood too, in the hospital bed. Rubbing her eyes, she got up, pushing Luna aside, and concentrated. Taking a deep breath, she felt the flames breathing alongside her, and surrendered herself to the vision.

Visions of pain. Of death, of shriveled creatures lost in the desert, of meteors raining against the barren, volcanic surface. The beginning and end of creation, planets and stars being built from nothing and torn apart. Celestia screeched as she was consumed by the fire, her entire body disintegrating, then being rebuilt, then disintegrating again. The sun’s roaring came to her in staccato now, as she was tossed and turned about in an endless maelstrom of relentless heat. Then, a light at the end of a tunnel. Whimpering, Celestia thrust herself towards it, using the last of her energy in an attempt to escape a searing hell. When she reached it, she sprinted as fast as her hooves could carry her. The light came clearer to her, now. The shape of a phoenix, flying around and around in circles. It entranced her. No. It was her.

“Enough.”

Celestia stood proudly, dispelling the vision of Luna to her left with a wave of her hoof. Then, a step forward, and the illusion of the hospital vanished entirely. In front of her, the battle raged on, her severely weakened army rallying for a last stand.

She took a deep breath, and picked up the watch. In the echoing silence of limbo, she took a deep breath and turned the dials again. There was a task to complete.

“Enough.” Celestia caught the rolling pin in midair with a wing, snapping it in two. She began to rise, and then it was her mother who knew fear as Celestia fully extended her wings, her newfound horn covering her body in a yellow, piercing aura.

Her classmates stopped jeering, too. The Old Gods were dead. Celestia would be the first.

She walked past the island, past the dried-up lake, towards the battlefield. A bump in her wing reminded her to check the small shell, and she finally understood its purpose. Closing her eyes, she concentrated again, breathed. She beckoned to the flames and they obeyed, and when she opened her eyes, the flickering light revealed a massive conch. Celestia put it to her lips and blew.

A song of chaos. Flutes and clarinets whistling up and down, emulating the cries of anguished soldiers. Celestia remembered the sound of frightened animals scurrying to seek protection from the sun’s heat, the torching of the evergreens. The feeling of terror as she was dragged up and up, culminating in one shrill, dissonant screech—

A song of order. The conch played a symphony of perfect harmony, the low, throbbing notes matching her heartbeat as courage filled her soul, and the souls of her soldiers. Wounds healed, she advanced with her army and fired a rainbow of perfect light.

She was the phoenix, dead and reborn. Princess Celestia, Sol Invictus.