Arc 8 – Hearts Crystallised Chapter 2 – Godkillers, part II

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For a brief moment, Night Wind allowed the heat inside her to build up, then gave up on its offer of strength and protection—it would be no use against the horror emerging from the black pool on the floor. Although her flames did ward off the deadly chill, she harboured no illusion of them being but a candle battling with the entirety of the night; that, and with her hooves and body on fire she couldn’t help Wire to remain upright. She all but dragged the unicorn away; not without help from Flower and partially leaning on Wire’s side herself, since all three of them combined had barely enough strength left to keep one pony standing. Neither Heterocera, nor Sunset lingered, hurrying to escape from the murky mist that crawled and slithered through the chamber furiously and deadly like a disturbed nest of snakes, leaving rime in its wake and rendering every breath a cloud of sparkling vapour; only Rainbow remained, the blade limply hanging in her grasp as she stood amidst the roiling darkness, dismayed and forlorn.

Nightmare, unseen and intangible, yet suffocating with its sheer presence, mercilessly tugged on the strings attached to Luna’s unconscious frame, dragging her like a corpse from the well of pure blackness. A strangled cry came from Flower when the ancient mare collapsed on the crystal floor, motionless. Trembling like an aspen leaf and pressing herself against the Kirin’s side in search of more than only physical support, Wire, her teeth chattering, asked nobody in particular, “Is… is she dead?”

The fog, swirling ominously closer and closer to the clustered at the edge of the room equines and the dragoness, muffled the voices because Sunset’s answer barely reached Night, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Rainbow turned to them, her grim expression and raised sword asking a question; she eyed her weapon almost ashamed, fully aware of the absurdity of her suggestion. Sunset shook her head and the pegasus eagerly retreated from the rolling tide of swirling shadows.

Something, perhaps Rainbow’s departure, jolted Luna awake, for her eyes snapped open, if only to blankly stare into space; the alicorn’s jaws moved, but whatever she shared got lost—consumed by the void brought by her puppeteer. She then lurched, stiffly heading for the equinoid’s remains in the middle of the chamber—for the Crystal Heart. Her every movement spoke of an immense struggle—the consumed by insanity mare yet possessed enough clarity to try to resist, no matter how futilely.

A dull roar began to permeate the frigid and mute air; Night’s nostrils flared, tickled by the acrid reek of smoke, so stark against the nipping frost. Confused, she checked her coat in case Nightmare’s influence spread beyond the poor alicorn’s frame falling apart and the monstrosity somehow had seized her faculties without her noticing. Then her panic-flooded gaze flitted to Sunset, but the dragoness, too, had nothing to do with the strange phenomena. As her eyes continued to search for clues, a spot of weak brightness cut through the gloom—one of the walls, the mix of concrete and piping betwixt the crystal pillars, glowed like a dull ember. The intensity of that light swiftly waxed till it became painful to look at. The stone and metal abruptly exploded, pelting Night and everyone else with scalding grapeshot; anyone barely paid attention to the pain—numbed by the cold, anyway—because a mare tumbled out of the breach in the wall, her mane and tail ablaze, her coat smouldering and eyes wild; Not unlike a Nirik, but different—bearing a distinct cataclysmic quality to her, the promise of that fire being only the beginning of something vast and far more deadly than one’s swing of the mood.

The fire wreathing around the sudden intruder rendered her mysterious—at first; gradually, Night came to recognise the mare as another alicorn, Ash. Though, since their last encounter, she had changed in ways subtle and not, gaining the air of regality… and menace. Still no match for the changeling queen’s or Luna’s imposing stature, Ash marched across the ravaged floor on long hooves and tiles cracked under her steps, each leaving a molten print. A wave of heat banished Nightmare’s curse of ice, yet Night found little comfort in it—were she to stay a bit closer to the ashen alicorn, that deceptively kind warmth would have scorched her fur.

Only momentarily stunned by her explosive entrance, Ash regained her wits and rushed to intercept Luna. In a few powerful strides she crossed the black alicorn’s path and the former Princess did stop—or, perhaps, Nightmare ceased pulling on the strings, because Luna stared at the hindrance with no more comprehension than her look had bore before. Taken aback by the emptiness of Luna’s gaze, Ash stood silent before her, searching the dark gaze for a glimpse of sanity; finding none, she asked, in a quavering voice:

“Do you remember her, your sister? Do you remember Celestia?”

Flower’s anguished cry was the only sound to disturb the long silence that followed Ash’s questions. The mechanic shook, her flame-coloured eyes wide, whispering, “No! It is all over…”

With a faint shimmer of magic, two tall figures materialised behind Ash; both of metal, one wearing bones. Neither received as much as a glance from Luna and the Machine Goddess grimly echoed Flower’s fear, “I tried to stop her, but… it might be too late for anything.”

Through the haze of smoke and pain, Ash peered into the charcoal depths of Luna’s eyes, seeking a hint of sanity in that impenetrable darkness. She held little faith in the alicorn’s capability to recognise her for who she truly was—given the elder mare struggled to not see Celestia in her place; nor did it help how Ash tried to exploit that earlier or the not-so-subtle change in her appearance since then. For an eyeblink, something flickered in Luna’s ice-cold stare, barely visible amidst the reign of living shadows; a suggestion so fleeting, Ash might have imagined it—awareness sharply blooming into a panic before the waves of Nightmare closed above that island of consciousness.

Whilst the truest of all deaths finally came to claim the last Princess, Ash herself feared she might not emerge alive from underneath the crystal spire and it wouldn’t be Nightmare to blame for that. The power that had let her reach the heart of the Empire demanded to not stop there, and, as Ash refused the call of deflagration, its source took a heavy toll on her body, steadily working on making the mare fit her name in a literal fashion. Yet, even more, she dreaded the agony leading her to share fate with Luna—lose her control and unleash a blaze upon the world, ultimately, no different from how Nightmare spread rime and desolation.

Only dimly aware of somebody appearing behind her, Ash still peered into Luna’s vacant gaze, hoping—having faith in the alicorn regaining sanity, if only momentarily, so she would be able to help her—all of them—to figure out how to thwart the catastrophe. Having spared the others no more than a glance, Ash still easily perceived—she had the most success in dealing with Nightmare. After all, something held the alicorn’s carcass back, though it could only be guessed, if Luna kept some control of her faculties or whether such was Nightmare’s caprice.

As to prove her right, the voice belonging to the Machine Goddess admitted, “I couldn’t figure out how to solve this problem. Do… you have any ideas?”

With her eyes widening from the notion of the mechanical divinity asking her for help, Ash almost abandoned the staring contest with Nightmare to give the metal mare a bewildered look, but then another voice spoke; lifeless as bones, it, nevertheless, let Ash forget about the excruciating pain for a moment. “Insufficient data. Observation: provides no relevant input.”

Not daring to turn away from Luna, Ash flicked her ear, listening to the exchange.

“It seems,” the Machine Goddess uttered dispiritedly, “only Luna possesses any actual knowledge of Nightmare.”

“Memory corruption level: critical.” Nameless didn’t hesitate with a response, which, too, came lacking any positive inflexion. “Extraction, restoration and analysis: requires an unavailable resource of time.”

The silent moments followed by their sombre words stretched into eternity as Ash stood, staring into the abyss and expecting it to stare back at her.

“Maybe we are doing it wrong…” the equinoid goddess finally proclaimed, though her suggestion sorely lacked confidence; she then added, her tone shifting into a drone of citation, “In dreams even the most faded memories persist and Luna was supposed to be a gatekeeper, for everyone can be a door.” As if sensing Ash itching to steal a confused glance at her, the arcanium alicorn hastily commented on her own words, “Though it is just what I was told by some… stallion at Kludgetown, that feels like the closest thing to the solution.”

“She must forget!” Flower’s sudden cry startled Ash.

Shattered crystal and ice crunched under hooves, but the sound stopped short—though Flower used to be able to withstand Nightmare’s proximity, only mares on fire or with bodies of metal were able to come this close to its source. But her weakness didn’t expel her from the thin ranks of those who possessed either insight into Luna’s plight or the ability to influence the fallen demi-goddess.

“What?” the Machine Goddess’ question, laden with surprise, rang out.

“The revelation—Nightmare—Luna’s memories…” Flower tried to disconnectedly explain, her thoughts galloping faster than her tongue could follow. “It must be erased!”

“She is not so different from poor Black Star…” the Machine Goddess thoughtfully uttered. “But it’s different this time—more… permanent.”

Though that name failed to resonate with Ash, she couldn’t help but notice the air of horror and grim resolution suddenly setting.

From the other side of the chamber, Rainbow’s voice reached them, strained but firm, “I don’t want to be that pony, but wouldn’t it be simpler to just kill her?”

“Yes,” Wire joined in, her rasp hoarsely echoing above the coiling fog. “What is the difference?”

“No, she must forget,” Flower insisted, “to unlearn the truth. If she dies, there is no chance to banish Nightmare from this realm—the door must be closed first; the conduit Luna had become—undone.”

Doubt hung in the frigid air thicker than frost; Ash had no need to look behind her to know—an exchange of uneasy glances must be taking place right now. Wire vocalised her exact thoughts, “It makes no sense.”

Being but shallowly acquainted with any of those equines (and a dragoness, though she looked oddly familiar), Ash, nevertheless, harboured a considerable modicum of respect for the mare, who had stood by Luna’s side where everyone else shunned the afflicted elder. However, she couldn’t deny a chance that loyalty to Nightmare’s victim might have compromised Flower’s judgement.

A deep rumble challenged the unanimous silent agreement on that mare’s sanity. “Nightmare doesn’t abide by our laws, even those of logic and reason,” the dragon noted wisely.

“Request: permission to initiate the process of memory erasement.”

Although Nameless didn’t ask Ash specifically, they waited for her decision; knowing well the futility of it, she searched Luna’s hollow eyes for any clue of the black alicorn understanding what was going on—of her fate being sealed. Nameless might have figured out how to tamper with one’s memories without murdering the ‘patient’; this would be different—Luna would be lost in the process, regardless of Nameless’ ability or intention. And no other result could be achieved, no matter what Ash chose. So, she only softly said, “I’d ask you to be gentle, but we both know how that works,” before stepping back.

Nothing betrayed Nameless exercising their ability, like the horn on Celestia’s skull litting up; however, Ash squirmed when the familiar magic washed over her, bringing back unpleasant memories. Before she had a chance to fully appreciate not being on a receiving end this time, Luna’s lips parted with a loud gasp and, at the same moment, Nameless flew back, struck by an invisible force.

Black mist poured from Luna’s withers—a dam holding back a bituminous death burst; its chill touch brought no comfort to Ash’s burns, only aggravated the pain. Clenching her teeth, she met the deluge with a hiss and by pouring more into the very flames eating her alive—she couldn’t let the dark tide pass, for the others might not weather it as well as she. However, not only her fire formed a bulwark against Nightmare—she wouldn’t be able to do it alone—shimmering flecks of metal maniacally danced in the air, turning into sparks where they mingled with Ash’s inferno.

“We are holding her back!” the Machine Goddess yelled, inviting Nameless to try again.

A bellow, twisted with rage and something else all but rendered Ash deaf.

“No!” Luna roared, “Celestia must live on with me!”

“Luna, Nightmare is taking over you,” Ash attempted to reason with the suddenly all too aware mare; forcing the words through her teeth to hold back a scream of pain, she had little hope of convincing her. “You are putting everyone in danger!”

Flower tried too, her voice coming even closer than before, strained and desperate, “You are losing those memories already. Luna, let them do it… please.”

“It is all lies! Lies!” Luna went on, foaming at the mouth and shedding deadly fog in excess. “You want to take her from me, changeling! I won’t let it happen again!”

Panic began to settle in Ash’s mind—they were losing precious time, for Luna had died already and her body would soon follow, making Nightmare a permanent fixture in this doomed world. These throes of death belonged to the part of Luna that had died together with her sister, the part that had fallen prey to Nightmare; this time it exploited not the thirst for vengeance, but the crippling pain of loss. And if anything sane even remained in that ravaged body and soul, it would never see the light of the Sun ever again.

The Machine Goddess’ urgent voice suddenly spoke to her, sounding in her head, like that of Nameless, “Can you fight Nightmare alone?”

The darkness obscuring Ash’s vision partly came from the blinding agony; her control of the raging firestorm, which used her as kindling, already threatened to slip away any moment, along with her consciousness. Yet, Ash clenched her teeth and nodded—she had to do it.

Under any other conditions, such a feat lay beyond the ability of the Machine Goddess—of any divine, for even the Dervishes abused the circumstances of her ascension; only one entity explicitly proved to be capable of entering other being’s mind and they were already there, slipped into Luna’s consciousness like an incandescent knife into icecream the moment Ash became an embodiment of the Sun. But till the Machine Goddess convinced Luna, Nameless would be as powerless as her to erase the memory.

Repeatedly gutted by Nightmare, the ancient alicorn’s mind was rapidly bleeding out, gushing rivulets of magic mixed with the taint of its ripper. Plunged into the arcane maelstrom of madness, the Machine Goddess struggled to not lose herself, keenly aware of the time ticking away—Ash wouldn’t be able to withstand her own potence forever; nor did the Twelve, toiling together as a figurative firewall, could indefinitely keep Nightmare from poisoning their mother.

As the Machine Goddess frantically sorted out the confusion of her perception, a sense of déjà vu gradually came to her, though dread rapidly replaced it. Unlike her experience of her first thought as a divinity, she had found herself in a space betwixt spaces—before the gate to something greater than everything in the realm combined. Luna’s body had become a crack in reality, leaking that immense power drop by drop, with her sanity plastering itself against that tear, so it wouldn’t grow and become an ever-expanding breach—a portal allowing Nightmare to pass through. It grew thin—the warden’s consciousness—eroded to almost nothing in her sacrifice; Luna’s futile search for redemption.

Before the equinoid opened an infinite vastitude of darkness with dead planets rolling silently and mournfully amidst torn wisps of dreams. One by one stars winked out, plunging the cosmos into an impenetrable shadow with things stirring in the domain of absolute death—not alive and not dead; sprawling terror which knew no end and no beginning, neither time nor… space. The sunless abhorrence twisted the very reality, ripping matter and energy from the firm grasp of sense and laws of physics. Impossible lines and angles lead where they shouldn’t—couldn’t—threatening to melt the Machine Goddess’s sanity; and were she to try and take the whole picture, to understand if she received the vision of distant future or had her sight cast into the remote present… The equinoid refused the bait even though almost overpowering curiosity demanded her to gaze upon this… nightmare.

And whereas the petty Saddle Arabian gods met the Machine Goddess in the abstract surreality unperceivable by any senses but that of the magic, a ghost waited for the sovereign of mechanical life. Showing no signs of corruption she had undergone whilst hunting the shadow of changelings, Luna yet presented an unwholesome sight—of a mare transparent as a gossamer wing, with eyes glassy and lifeless, even if devoid of the darkness; the blackness heaved around her, shivering in anticipation.

“Luna?” the Machine Goddess called.

She knew not if she could be heard, unsure whether the alicorn’s fading soul would listen to her either. The passage of time refused to reveal itself, but the feedback from the Twelve told the champion of artificial life—not even minds with infallible mathematical logic in their foundation and imbued with the fraction of ‘divine’ strength had a chance of holding against the overwhelming lunacy for much longer. Having no other hope than to continue, the Machine Goddess ‘spoke’ once more, offering the only bargaining chip she had to trade for Luna’s death, “If it continues, every memory of Celestia ever existing is going to be effaced by… whatever Nightmare brings unto us. However, I carry Twilight Sparkle’s echo and who is better to remember Celestia than her?”

The apparition of Luna didn’t stir; no sound escaped her jaws clenched tight.

With nothing else left to say, the Machine Goddess closed her metaphorical eyes so she could see only what she wanted to see—and show. The swirling shadows parted for an explosion of colour to manifest; the oppressing phantasmagory of churning darkness subdued for subtle and gentle noises to take place; fresh scents permeated the frozen atmosphere of the void.

Grass rustled, bathed in golden benevolence; it tickled a filly’s hooves hanging from a soft cushion laid by a delicate table of sublime carpentry. Her magic, yet to become unparalleled, set a cup back onto a saucer with a tinkle as silver as her pure laugh—an ungovernable outburst of joy summoned by a soft motherly voice telling her one of the countless anecdotes that had happened in the court. Vibrant like a sunset, blush bloomed on the filly cheeks—she should have minded her manner in the presence of such immaculate beauty belonging to the very embodiment of proper etiquette; yet pink also glowed beneath alabaster fur—a Princess should have known better than indulging into a mockery of clumsy dignitaries, even if lighthearted. Silence settled betwixt the two and gradually grins crept upon their faces; the alicorn continued her tale and the filly laughed again, ignorant of a mare mutely sharing the table with them. A single tear rolled down the cheek of that sombre alicorn—who was but an outline now—and phased through the table, dissolving in the mist which gnawed on her hooves. No more than a statue—one of many surrounding the mirthful duo—she only stared ahead; but for a brief moment emotion flashed in her turquoise eyes and a fleeting suggestion of a smile tugged at the corners of her pale lips; her eyelids fell.

“Access: granted. Initiating memory erasement. Warning: the subject’s glia will be severely damaged in the process. Suggestion: disengage any connection to Luna’s consciousness.”

The shift betwixt unreal and material left the Machine Goddess grimacing; blinded and deafened, she nevertheless swiftly re-established link with ontic reality just in time to witness the black fog dispersing or, rather, failing to regenerate faster than Ash’s fury eradicated it. Such a display might be attributed to the white alicorn’s ability gaining in intensity, if not for Luna’s form limply slumping on the floor, engulfed into a radiant shimmer of energy; an unseen, but easily perceived, torrent of magic surrounded the dying Princess and Nameless, who stood over her body like an elaborate tombstone for a shared grave.

Fire always hungered and its ravenous nature never knew satiation; the flames devoured even the very notion of time, leaving Ash unable to tell if she burnt for evermore, or merely a moment worth a blink of an eye had passed. Everything had become fire, even her; the alicorn’s charred flesh flaked off and melted like wax, yet she somehow existed—a thought persevering against eternal destruction, a refusal to give in. She understood—only cold and darkness meant an absolute end of everything, when nothing but ashes with no wind to scatter them remain; however, the fire had the other side—the ability to be tamed into a tool of creation. One just had to grasp the power of the Sun with intent as clear as the day—to leave behind all the pain and all the rage.

Yet, Ash hesitated to assume the light—it whispered. It offered itself as a tool, yes—as a steaming blade to carve the world into perfection; with surgical precision, it would excise every tumour, cauterise every spot of rot. It promised to be Ash’s extension, as natural as her any limb, and together they were to cleanse the realm of depravity, injustice, of anything threatening the peace. No more cold, no more hunger, no pain—only the incandescent radiance and glory of the Sun; no darkness would ever hide, not with a blazing eye watching every corner of her kingdom.

The nightmare, as bright as a pyre, consumed Ash in her hesitation to let it become reality; and she was content with it—unlike Luna, she refused to succumb to the temptation, no matter how maddeningly alluring. But at the same time, she watched the flame with regret—so much power wasted, it could have brought so much warmth into this cold and dark world. Even now, the fire stood against the threat with no other to replace it, equal to it… or not. Comparing herself to Luna, Ash couldn’t help but notice one very important difference—whereas Nightmare infested the alicorn’s mind and body from outside, the flagrancy taunting Ash came from within herself and it couldn’t be stronger than its creator—it shouldn’t be… it had no right.

Amidst the inferno, golden light flared and no flames replaced those explosions of sunlight—a white mare rematerialised in their stead, impervious to conflagration. Two brilliant portals into the Sun’s core fixed on the ceiling—eyes of the alicorn seeing the consuming threat no more, but the potential; she was stronger than it… strong enough to be herself. The blazing maelstrom around her momentarily halted and presently it resumed its raving, the fire gained an order—received an order to retreat. The heat lingered, but flames no longer leaked the shattered crystals to melt them whole anew; presently, the stone creaked and cracked, settling back; Sombra’s shattered corpse returned to the Crystal Empire, for only his shadow to remain.

Ash unplugged her hooves from the holes she burned in the floor; her eyes, glowing faintly like embers, found the still coruscating cocoon of magic enveloping Luna; she took notice of the Machine Goddess, whose body was still liquid. She blinked and, with that, the last flickers of inferno abandoned her. After swaying for a moment of indecision, she collapsed.

Not far from her a wooden door materialised from the thin air; it opened, revealing the swirling colours, then fell with a thunderous clap echoing through the chamber. In its place stood a draconequus, a dragon of pure light and an equinoid of not quite an ordinary appearance. Discord headed for Ash, exaggeratedly marching; he tried to—the stone was yet to fully cool down. Drifting above the floor the rest of the way, he reached the alicorn and took her lifeless hoof in his eagle paw. She weakly stirred, achieving only being able to spare him a look.

“Congratulations, my dear!” announced the Lord of Chaos, vigorously shaking her limp limb. “I knew you would be able to do it.”

Author's Note

English isn't my native language; though I try my best and use various tools to aid myself, I'm aware that a result is far from perfect. That said, if you notice anything that you think should be fixed—please let me know.

I hope you've enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.