Mille Nox Noctis

by Hope

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Slice of Life, Sad, Nightmare Moon, Princess Luna, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 14604

A thousand nights

One page a year, Luna has written of her life in the ultimate prison.

Published 2012-09-23 22:04:02 UTC
Last updated 2017-02-12 00:52:57 UTC

Captus of Luna

0 AB

I had been prepared for hate. I had been prepared for sorrow.

But not this. Sweet Stars, not this.

Mercy. Over my corrupted black feathers and coat, Mercy and understanding flowed like rivers.

I had murdered every one of your supporters I had been able to, dancing on their very blood to draw you out of hiding. I killed the only lover you had ever known. I wrung the life from Starswirl with my magic.

I made him beg for his life, then for the pain to stop.

I had been sure the elements could not be wielded by one alone, but I was wrong.

I had been sure of my power over anything you could wield, but again I was wrong.

I couldn't perform magic, my millennia of combat training and expertise vanished, and I was a foal for a moment.

You could have said anything in that moment, Celestia. You could have conveyed books of information to me, but you choose two words. Words I cannot comprehend.

I'm Sorry.

My rage burns through me like a river tearing through dams that stood as nothing but paper before it.

I blast the very surface of my dear moon with raw power, the only thing I could attack with my anger being my own soul.

The craters were not enough. I needed to show you, I needed to make sure you knew that I was not sorry, that you were not forgiven.

Even as I took my rage and turned it into a sign of my rebellion, tears pour from my eyes, only to evaporate into the cold of space.

My own visage carved crater by crater into the surface of my very soul to show you, I live. You have not won. You will never win against me, Sister. For I am your shadow.

Even the sun has a shadow.

If only I could believe this a dream, if only I could tell myself that I still had my power, but i feel the Moon shifting below me, responding to your whim, obeying your commands.

How sick it makes me feel.

1 AB

I have called out to you.

You did not answer.

I pleaded and begged, prostrating myself before your great sun with bitterness in my heart.

But you remain silent.

Surely you hear me, I am your sister. We once talked mind to mind with the ease of breath.

Though I have gone without a single breath for a year now on this airless rock.

I count the days by watching the world spin, picking out the lights of Canterlot even from the dark bowels of space.

Have you buried the dead in this short time? Have you resumed your royal duties?

I cant help but wonder if you would dare give yourself the title I had so violently fought for.

Queen of Equestria.

My eternal night would have been beautiful. I know that you precious ponies would have wanted it if they knew how sheltered they were by your ignorance.

Have you buried your precious Starswirl? I pray his image haunts you. I sleep easy here upon my moon.

I lie.

Even to myself, which is commendable, being the self proclaimed princess of lies.

I have not slept.

Is this part of the curse sister? shall I spend a thousand years awake, simply to watch the world turn?

I would let it freeze in a heartbeat.

So many came to me with concerns of agriculture and begging for my mercy, but they didn't understand, none understand my pain.

For my pain is that of a being cursed to be alone, even when surrounded by thousands. I wanted them all to perish Celestia.

I wanted the last thing for your little ponies to see, to have been my night.

2 AB

You must hear me.

I will whisper my hatred and scorn to you every night until you fall.

I laid great plans before I assaulted Canterlot, my legions of troops, my elite Lunar Guard will be attacking your precious city soon. Even if I am trapped up here, I will watch your city burn tonight, its lights going out forever. Victory will be mine.

I watched all night, waiting to finish this entry.

Canterlot is untouched.

What could have happened? How could you have survived such a brutal assault?

Under the rally of my moon, my troops should have decimated yours!

I saw not a single change to the city you prided yourself in creating, and in my frustration I hurled a rock from the moon at your city, hoping beyond my own knowledge that somehow it would strike you down.

The streak of burning detritus did not make it half that far.

I am sure you laughed at my attempt, pointing it out to your little ponies and having them wish upon it like some sort of candle.

If only they knew this rage, If only I could burn them myself.

The cold fire of my heart will never fade.

Nightmare Moon will be remembered, forever.

3AB

These days I simply watch.

Three years.

How could you abandon me like this, sister?

How could you be so cruel?

You know I begged for death. My ultimate weapon was that I was so sick of being alone, I would have readily become a martyr for my cause.

But you, the only thing which could destroy a thing like me, had to show mercy.

I have tried to fling myself from my moon, to crash violently to the ground in a comet of blood and fire, but I have no air to push at with my wings.

You have robbed me of even flight.

I still cannot sleep. I always slept during your days, scorning them it seems led to a dependence on them.

Now my very rest, which would have allowed an escape from my own thoughts, has been taken from me.

My advisers told me of a great myth, the myth of Invictus Sol.

I thought I was fighting Invictus, that a great rage would burn through me and end this pathetic existence.

How could I have ever believed you capable of such a thing? You are far too weak. That is your only weakness in fact, your mercy. I will break you using it, as soon as I escape this prison.

4 AB

I have withdrawn to the dark side of the moon, where I cannot see your planet.

It has truly become yours, has it not? I can certainly lay no claim to it, and your ponies simply inhabit its surface, like a plague.

Your Planet.

Your Equestria.

Your New Capital.

Your Sun.

Your Moon.

I would destroy it if I could, just to keep your hooves off it.

I have finally found sleep.

In the darkest of the craters on the dark side of the moon, I cried myself to sleep.

I cry for what I have lost, nothing more.

For I have lost it all.

Saevio Nex

5 AB

I just noticed tonight as the light across Equestria faded, there is a forest spreading where our castle once stood.

The only sign of our join rule has been reduced to a green swath across your nation.

How easy it must be for you to forget me.

I have forgotten myself, after all.

My name is Nightmare Moon, I have lost my other name, and have no desire to resume such a weak moniker.

I have become a pastel grey, coated in the dust of my precious moon.

You cannot take my moon from me, I am part of it.

You cannot take my rage, it is all I have left.

I feel heavy, weighed down by the years I have spent aflame by fury.

My eyes have no tears left to shed.

The rocks around me are as steadfast and simple as the day I arrived.

I am as cold as I have ever been.

The fire sputters in my heart.

What is there left to fuel it?

Even the last signs of my existence have been purged from your land.

My visage on this great orb is the only proof I have ever existed.

6 AB

I awoke from a brief nap, and I did not recognize my own hoof.

I am so small, when did I lose so much more of my power?

This pastel blue mane mocks me, makes me seem a foal when i have lived for longer than any living thing.

Except you of course, Celestia.

I thought you would come to me today, I felt warmth I have not felt in so very long.

But of course you did not appear. I do not deserve an audience with the Queen.

There is movement on my Moon.

Something is here. I am afraid.

7 AB

She talks with my voice, sister.

But a scratchy, dark undertone as though choking on the dust that coats her.

I thought she was just my shadow, that I could ignore her since I did not feel another presence on my Moon, but she soon began to speak.

Without air to breathe, she speaks.

She talks with my voice of treason, of terrible deeds that she has done in my name, that We have done.

She says that We have done so much, that my shadow and I have murdered and hurt beyond comprehension, and I don't understand.

She speaks of our imprisonment upon our moon, but I do not understand.

This is my home, this is where I belong, how could I be imprisoned?

She speaks of our triumphs but I do not understand, I have never spoken to my shadow before.

Oh sister, I am sure this will all be sorted out when I see you.

I will simply wait until you come back from wherever you have gone.

The dark shadow watches me with disgust.

8AB

The darkness has always been my solitude, my refuge in the world, where I could go to think, to live without pain.

The darkness haunts me now.

She whispers death itself into my ears, she tells me of horrors that I can somehow see as though remembering them.

She tells me of your dear Starswirl, of his death.

This could not be so, sister.

Nopony could possibly have harmed your dearest companion, and my many talks with him into the early hours of the morning are memories I will hold dear until the end of time.

I feel torn Celestia.

I feel a great sickness, as though I had tried to lift something too mighty with my magic.

As though the fabric of reality around me is buckling.

Something is wrong, but the lush sphere and your sun turn serenely above me.

Your calm demeanor always comforted me.

Even when I teased you and called you the ice queen or the statue of my sister, your polite laugh and calm response soothed me.

Why do I feel anger welling up as I remember you, as though tasting a sour brew, I feel so sick Tia.

The Foal fights me.

I am of her mind and soul and yet she fights me.

How can this be? I am her!

I am your sister, I am the princess of the moon!

Yet I float ethereal in the darkness, watching her.

When did our minds diverge?

When did her thoughts stray so far from my own as to isolate her?

Regardless she is weak.

Her thoughts of you desperate and sugar coated as though she can sense the truth even as I whisper it into her ear.

I feel as though I have been left out in the rain, my substance gone.

It sits in front of me crying out to you. Pathetic.

9 AB

The shadow introduced itself to me today.

After several years of whispering lies in my ear I suppose it finally decided to be civil.

It calls itself The Nightmare.

Awefully pretentious I think, very dramatic considering that I am the princess of the night and dreams themselves.

It seems to know who I am but does not bow or call me by any other name than "Little one."

Which is quite insulting considering it is hardly a whisp of smoke and I am an alicorn.

It claims to have known me for a long time, which would not be hard as I was a public figure back in Canterlot.

Oh Canterlot, like a star on a tapestry our city shines above me, a beacon of hope to all of Equestria.

Whenever I reminisce The Nightmare becomes agitated, and I feel sick again.

The wrenching feeling is stronger the closer I am to Nightmare, so I have taken to leaving it next to the large rock I have begun calling home, and strolling across the silvery surface of my moon.

As I walk I remember the Nightmare being more than a whisp, a full alicorn in shining black and dark blue, but something has changed.

I feel as though I have missed a great deal, but know not where to look for answers.

The Nightmare must be lying, and I cannot leave the moon but feel no drive to do so anyway.

The Nightmare is back, and she smiles.

A wicked grin with fangs and golden eyes filled with hate.

I am afraid sister, Help me.

Yes sister, help her.

I wonder how much pain I can cause to the little one, before you come to her aid.

Damnosus Alucinor

10 AB

I awake and around me are the comforts of my room, my midnight blue sheets, my golden curtains that you gave to me, all that I own and would ever want.

With a stretch I yawn and look out the heavily veiled window, seeing it is evening.

Happily my hoof-falls bring me down the hall to the throne room where I feel you await me, Sister.

The sight of your white form and flowing mane fill me with far more joy than I had felt in so many years as I move to embrace you, and you look up in shock and horror.

"Luna?!" You say in shock, moving quickly back, away from me as my hoof brushes your silky mane.

"Sister, I..." Before I can speak I see a darkness spread from my touch, the hairs of many hues crystallized and falling away as you flee my touch.

With a cry of shock I stagger away as the grey shatters your hair and begins to spread in patches across your coat.

The grey turns parts of you to dust as you cry out in pain, a hoof falling off and leaving a splash of grey dust across the marble floor.

"What have you done, Luna? Why would you do this? I love...." You become nothing more than a pile of moon dust as I watch, the words I want so badly to hear robbed from you but the words you did manage tearing at my mind from within as my tears mingle with the dust, somehow turning it blood red as your remains coat me, dragging me down into my dusty, bloody grave.

I come to with The Nightmare's eyes filling my vision.

"Well. Wasn't that fun?" She whispers, almost dripping with pleasure at the thought of sending me under again.

"P...Please..." I beg as she drops a hoof full of moon dust across me, laughing with malice In her eyes.

"P... Please stop...."

She doesn't even think before replying.

"No."

And I drop violently into another sleeping terror.

11 AB

The little one thrashes in her sleep.

Two years of torture and she still clings to you as her salvation.

The most damaging phantoms being of your death or abandonment.

I have forced her to relive our banishment, our final moments on your planet, hundreds of times.

Yet still you do not come to save her.

I let her dream of your grace saving her from her current torture, before you rip her limb from limb.

Her silent screams lend me a fanged grin that glints in the moonlight.

It is quite amusing she once slept as a shelter from the isolation, that has ended.

I am The Nightmare, I am the terror of all dreams, the little one doesn't stand a chance.

I will turn her against you, you will become her worst fear, and you will never be able to reclaim her.

12 AB

I awake in a prison cell in the castle, but I do not panic, I do not even look around.

It took a long time but even The Nightmare cannot craft a dream that mimics reality perfectly.

Even as I hear you approach, Sister, I do not look up.

Your skeletal and rotting hoof forces my head up to look into your eyes as one of them falls from your head.

"I love you." I say in a dull monotone.

Your specter snarls, screaming obscenities at me.

"I love you." I say again, watching the dream fade as the Nightmare switches tactics.

The little one is far stronger in her faith in you than I could have predicted.

How she could have attacked you to begin with astounds me.

I have spent years trying to break her, she has not seen the light of your wretched sun in as long.

I finally let her rise from her dreams.

She opens her eyes and looks up to me with a smile.

I snarl.

"She has not come for you. She has abandoned you."

"I have not been in any danger. She knows that, if she is even able to see us."

"Then we shall remedy that."

I seize her hoof and slam it into the other leg as she lets out a shocked scream at the snap of bone.

As an alicorn it will heal quickly, within a month.

That simply means I can do it more often.

I leave her sobbing in pain and turn away.

The cries fill me with a twisted pleasure, and I lay down to enjoy the sensation as she recovers.

13 AB

I watch The Nightmare, my rage drifting through the empty space between us and somehow making it stronger.

The Nightmare grins wider.

The amount of physical pain she has inflicted upon me in the last year has surpassed anything I have ever felt even during the Discordant War.

My wings are crippled and my legs are unsteady.

My eyes are bruised and my horn has been broken then set back in place.

I have been unconscious for so long, I could only track the date by the stars.

I fought off The Nightmare finally, forcing her away as she rushed me to break my spine, curious if I could heal from something so terrible.

The blast of energy I used to force her away was pitch black and flecked with stars, not my deep blue magic I was used to.

"What have you done to me?" I choke out, coughing out blood and dust in equal measure.

She laughs, shaking her head in disbelief.

She is big again, an alicorn as black as night itself.

"You truly don't understand, do you? It is better this way, though. I get to have more fun with you if you don't understand."

I blast her away again.

Then I keep blasting her, my fear of the pain she has caused me driving me to new heights of power as I bury her in the grey dust.

My dreaming terrors echo in my head as I seal her underground, knowing that she may escape, but I may have a time without her.

I can be at peace again.

I block out her screams and turn away.

14 AB

Slowly, I pull air from your planet. The power required is immense and only the close proximity allows for it at all.

Wisps of the precious atmosphere at first, growing to a small layer around my moon.

The glow of the silvery sphere seems to increase a little, likely making it more visible.

I breathe for the first time in more than a decade.

I do not need breath, but it is unnerving and unsettling not to do so.

I meditate, feeling the breeze conjured up by the spells binding the air to the surface of my satellite.

Within months I have built myself a cave, which I shall sleep in, so I need not travel to rest.

During the carving of the cave I discover the dust is rich in minerals, and am stricken by a thought which fills me with joy.

Using yet more energy and seemingly endless time, I forge a sheet of metal from the Moon rock.

Even in the low gravity of the Moon I can tell it is light, far lighter than the metals we forged to create armor so many years ago.

This sheet is split into two rectangles and a very long strip, which I then fashion into a rough violin.

I only ever took interest in the violin, over other instruments I was offered lessons in. Over the years the mournful sound of the violin became a secret pleasure of mine and I became good enough to have written several songs for the instrument.

A strip of my tail serves as the bow, strung along another strip of the Lunar Metal.

I begin to play.

Tuning an instrument forged from an unknown metal in thin air without any tools takes time, but eventually I have a tune that reminds me of a true violin.

I name this The Luname.

And for once I find peace as I play.

(Following song is the song she plays, ignore the video, I couldnt find this song without the video but if someone knows the name of the song ill change this link: Solitude )

Tortum Incursus

15 AB

Equestria is so beautiful from the moon.

Like a flower in the desert.

All around your precious country are wastes, oceans, and frozen tundra.

I remember when we discovered the country in its infancy, lending our power to help them survive, then to flourish.

When did they forget that there were two sisters?

When did I forget?

The stars serve as a stark contrast to the rich but confusing tapestry of Equestria.

Cold and simple, but ever the same.
They have become my calendar and solace, but I can never understand them.

For a moment, I feel closer to the distant balls of fire than your sphere of water and life.

I ponder briefly on the lifespan of an alicorn.

The closer to their power, the longer one of us may live, and comparing to your timeline I may have a hundred millennia to wait before that cold release claims me.

I have no anger left for you, Sister.

It is as though it has all drifted away in the last few years.

You said that you were sorry, and I know that you were.

Now I am left to wonder, what were you sorry for?

16 AB

I have taken up a ritual, to pass these endless days.

I awake as Equestria swings into view, and meditate until it is directly above me.

Then I play my songs to you, to your people, until you are nearly out of sight.

Then I cry.

I know not what I cry for, but I feel I have many reasons. They escape me for now but my tears form a small glittering pool in the dust.

My tears clean me, purify me of the pain I feel each night.

Never completely but enough that I may let my mind drift to other things, that I may give myself respite from the cold that seeps into me.

I have taken to talking endlessly, of random and disjointed subjects, although in the thin air I must raise my voice to the point of nearly screaming just to hear myself.

My own voice seems weak and empty, but even the most powerful illusions I conjure of you cannot speak with your voice, and I simply sob while staring upon your calm face.

The memory of your voice escapes me, and I cannot even remember what food tastes like.

I have learned my lesson, I have been punished, why am I still here?

What must I have done for my existence to be reduced to this?

17 AB

I attempted to use a spell to scry on you, to see what you were doing.

The feedback of pure magical energy as I tried to look through the moon while standing on it was impressive, my sight is just now returning to normal.

I cannot tell if this is an effect of my imprisonment or if I am simply unlucky, but you can rest assured that I shall not attempt it again.

For a moment as I lay on the ground with nothing but white coating my vision, I was sure that I had died.

I am ashamed to say that I was filled with a great joy for a time, until my sight began to return and shame swept over me at my jubilation.

For now I resume my rituals, my patterns which comfort me.

I wake and I play, the vibrations of the strings are my only reply as I sing to the stars.

Oh dark and dreams will carry me
Upon the clouds and to the sea
Every hoof I raise to slow
Shows miles and miles to go
I've seen the stars
In mother's arms
I've seen the moon
Cut through the gloom
But all I want is home.

The little one has imprisoned me inside the moon itself. I am a goddess and here I lay buried alive.

I feel numb, as though disconnected from reality, disconnected from myself.

Does the little one truly not understand what has happened? Does she not remember taking up my name and power to defeat her enemies?

Has she really forgotten the glee we felt as we waited for you to end us?

We were so close. So very close to ending it all, her isolation and my rage both would have been cleansed by your fire if only you weren't so weak.

The pain of being encased in dust is nothing compared to the pain I endured to gain this power, Celestia.

I have given up everything for the eldrich horrors I can wield, but the little one seems to have forgotten. Somehow she was able to bury me alive when I know I am more powerful than she.

If she wants to make this a war, then so shall it be.

18 AB

The night terrors are back, so I do not sleep.

I spend weeks on end drawing pictures of us in the dust as your kingdom watches over me.

I hear voices but I know they are not real. I hear The Shadow but she is gone. She will never bother us again, Sister.

So with your grace firm in my mind, I let myself sleep for the first time in so long.

The mind is a beautiful thing.

So delicate yet able to repair itself after severe damage.

For example, if one was to magically remove a name from the mind of a sniveling foal, the mind of the foal would look for what was in its place.

It is a simple act, from there, to tell it what it is missing.

19 AB

I awake in a daze with my head pounding, images of the burning sun pounding down on me and burning me alive.

Then I hear you calling my name, and I pull you from the dust of the moon, brushing you off frantically.

I beg for you to forgive me and you do, you hold me close and tell me everything is okay.

Sister, I have missed you for so long, and here you are, to keep me safe.

I will never do anything to harm you again, you are everything I need, I don’t need to come back to Equestria or see your subjects, I just need you to be happy.

The terrors sent in my sleep by the glaring sun cannot compare to your beauty and protection.

Everything will be wonderful now.

I will never leave your side again, my Sister, Nightmare Moon.

Ardor Dolor

20 AB

My cerulean magic tears great veins of metal from the dark dust that composes the hidden side of my moon.

My power seems to be stronger since you returned to me, Sister. The great strength within me rekindled.

Molten metal soon floats above me, my raw fury heating it until it is white hot.

From the beautiful silver material I draw beams and pillars, sheets and bolts.

I laugh in the thin air at the absurdity of this all, it is so easy. So simple to construct, why did I not do this sooner?

My new castle rises on the dark side of the moon like a silver dagger into space itself.

I may not be able to fly in this waning atmosphere, but from the height of my tower I can look down on the sea of rocks and dust just as the wretch of the sun does to her subjects.

My citizens need not fear me as hers do. Mine serve me in death as materials to build my castle.

You direct my power and explain the structure you have designed, and I build it.

The lower levels and foundation contained far more cells and chambers of ill portent than I would have preferred, but you know best, Sister.

Once we reached the grand hall, you allowed me my fun. I wove tapestries from metal thread and hung them from the gleaming walls, images of you and I ruling Equestria together as it should be.

“Sister, what of the ponies? They are not our subjects and I have no desire to rule over them. Neigh, no need for them at all.” I complain from my icy throne, playing with a sphere of white hot metal which floats above me.

“Let them perish. Our blessed night shall render them incapable of survival.” My sister explains indifferently.

I do my best to remain calm but spikes of metal form before congealing into a ball again.

“Is so much death truly necessary?” I ask in a practiced, calm voice. “We could teach them to love our nights, give them just enough sunlight to grow and survive but lengthen the nights to coax them into experiencing them.”

Nightmare moon’s expression is unreadable.

“If that is what you will, Sister.” The black alicorn says, watching as the sphere of molten aluminum and silicon turned above us, the heat radiating from it like a miniature sun. “If that is what you will.”

21 AB

You have taken to retreating into your own chambers whenever I make my trip to the light side of the moon to sing or to fight the urge to cry, I know not from where these tears come but I must be strong for you, Sister.

I must bury my tears.

Your habit of hiding from me when I feel this way disturbs me, leaving me alone and isolated when I need your presence the most.

I sometimes feel bursts of rage when you speak, though I do not let them show and I hate myself for them.

What is wrong with me, that I would feel so angry when you are my salvation, my protection?

I desire to make amends, as I am sure I have done something wrong.

On one of the nights which hold nothing for me but dust and my own thoughts, I lay in my chambers with a small piece of metal as the focus of my attention, as I think of what to make for you.

I heat it to malleability in moments, my metal floor and bed shining as the piece flattens out into a thin blade, without handle or hilt. This is a blade designed to be wielded by a magic user, none other.

My magic forces the molten metal into itself with such force it compresses, locking it into that shape as I etch swirls and the phases of the moon into it, finally holding it up to inspect.

The shard gleams dangerously in the starlight, its razor edge seeming to split the air around it. My magic only finds purchase upon the flats of the thing and I carve small holes to add a spot for magic to seek as an anchor.

I name it the Luname.

The name seems familiar, but I strike it from my mind as I present the weapon to you as a gift.

You seem ecstatic, laughing and using it to sheer a column of rock in two. I smile happily, knowing I have done well, I have regained your companionship.

And that is all I ever wanted.

22 AB

My sister and I rule the moon as the sun goddess rules her wretched Equestria. As she forces ponies to toil under the hot sun before casting them into sleep when the moon rises, we have only our rocks which we boil for their precious metal before discarding into piles upon the dust.

At least our subjects are not alone.

They have each other, and they have us.

I have carved marks upon a few stones I have hidden from you, Sister. I fear for some reason you would be unhappy with my collection.

They are reminders of ponies I can barely remember.

Starswirl, Silver, Moonflower, Brightstar.

The names are ingrained in me and I am ashamed I cannot remember what they looked like. But I know they are important to me.

I feel as though I am missing one. Every time I look down on my collection of memories, they are arranged in an open pentagram.

Something is wrong, Sister, I shall ask you soon. Surely you must know all the ponies I am friends with.

23 AB

The little one suspects something. Being part of her mind and soul apparently wasn't enough to let me root around in her skull undetected.

She came to me asking who you were, Sister. I have burned you from her mind so well she doesn't even remember your name.

I feel quite proud of myself.

Even if I lose control over my sniveling companion, I can torture her for so very long with the knowledge that she cannot remember so much as your name.

But the fact that she remembers the names of the four others is troublesome. She could gain memories and regain her memories of myself using that much.

There is unfortunately nothing I can do about her knowing those accursed names, but I can certainly punish her for remembering them.

I could lie to her, twist the little knowledge she has until she despises them, or I could lead her to think that they are other aspects of herself. That would risk hitting too close to home though.

No, I think the truth will be much harder to bear. Perhaps this will be what finally breaks her, Sister. Then when I finally escape you can have your pathetic foal back.

24 AB

I awake to the sound of dripping. Which is disturbing since I am on the moon and there is no precipitation.

With a swift movement, I get out of my bed and stand, only to be faced with something I had long forgotten.

How I wish I could not remember now.

I had forgotten what Moonflower looked like, because this had been the last time I had seen her.

No pony deserves to be remembered this way.

Chained up against a mossy stone wall, her pure white coat stood in stark contrast to the blue of her mane, and the deep red of the blood that dripped from her every limb.

I heard my own voice, speaking without my consent.

“You hath betrayed your queen, Moonflower. You speak of high treason and regicide.” I shake my head, trying to believe my own memories are inaccurate.

Moonflower raises her head and upon it is the most beautiful smile.

“Yes. I would be. If you were a dark queen and not the princess I know and love.”

My throat is tied shut by a sudden wave of tears, but that does not stop my traitorous voice.

“I AM YOUR QUEEN!” My memories scream as a deep gash is torn in the pristine white of her stomach.

Even as she hangs, dying, that smile never fades. “Now.... I know you didn't mean that.... Why don't you go ahead and apologize?”

My voice screams in incomprehensible rage as Moonflower is torn apart before my eyes. I feel her blood upon my coat.

Then I am returned to my room. In my hooves, I hold the stone with the lily carved upon it.

The sound of dripping returns as the tears fall, unabated.

Paenitentia

25 AB caeco risus (Blind/hidden laughter)

After hiding my tears from you for months, you are there for me, and I cry while you hold me.

“I had a bad dream, Sister.” I hiccup as I look up to you, tears streaming down my face.

“I am here for you, Luna. I will protect you.” You tell me, as you hold me close.

The foal became so scared from seeing her own memory, her fear took hold of me. I must still be linked to her somehow. I will have to find a way to sever this connection.

For now I coddle her like a child. It is quite amusing that she does not know I was the one that killed her precious flower.

Eventually I stop crying and you leave me alone with my thoughts.

Soon I turn to my window and I look up to the stars.

The beauty of the stars have always been a refuge to me, a tapestry I could paint my soul upon and sometimes, every once in awhile a pony would come to me to talk of them.

I turn away from the window, and am met by another memory.

In front of me, tied down upon a chair, sits Brightstar.

I cannot do justice to the scene before me, but I will try.

Brightstar was a unicorn of unparalleled beauty, with a coat of the purest ocean blue and a mane of deepest black. Her bright red eyes always seemed to shine with joy even in the darkest of times. Brightstar was my light in the darkness.

Her eyes shone no longer. She had no eyes to see with.

In their place sat cold rubies, enchanted with a spell to allow her to see through them as though they were her eyes.

Around the chair she is tied to, hundreds of fake eyes and stand ins lay smashed on the stone.

My voice returns

“That damnable sparkle is gone, I see.” My voice sounds bored, as if this is routine.

“I... I’m so thirsty, Luna.... Please.” Bright begs, her gem eyes turning away from me in fear.

“Well, I just so happen to have some water right here.” The bored, clinical voice replies.

A bit of hope returns to Bright’s face, before a bucket of frigid water is dumped on her.

In the shock she still manages to catch a little in her mouth, gasping for air and spluttering weakly.

“V... Very funny, Luna. T.... Thanks.” She says with a weak smile.

“I’m sorry, how are you to address me, jester?” My voice replies.

“My queen! s... sorry, thank you m... my queen.” Her smile is gone.

“Better.”

The scene changes and we are standing in the throne room of a castle I don’t recognize.

Brightstar is dressed in garish clothes that in another time she would have torn off as an affront against dignity. I feel that she likely is beyond caring.

She is grey, faded as though touched by Discord, but upon closer inspection it is because she has not been allowed to bathe or care for herself in a very long time. The clothes are sewn directly onto her, and were not designed to be comfortable.

“Play me something.” My voice calls out, no longer flat but full of spite and malice.

A small harp is tossed at Brightstar as she scrambles to catch it in her weak magic then pull it in front of herself.

“Any requests?” She asks in a wavering voice.

Somepony I don’t recognize replies; “The lunar anthem.”

Brightstar bows and begins to play, and after getting a bit into the bright, soaring melody, she began to sing.

“Upon the moonlit sky, with a tear in ev’ry eye, we shall spread our wings and fly, for the night!”

“Our wounds cut deep, our eyes beg for sleep, but never shall we surrender.”

“The sun shall fall, and after it all, we shall have our Luna.”

“I sing this words, as a pact of ours, between a queen and country.”

“But Lunas gone, and in her place, a demon will kill us all.”

The last verse was punctuated by two daggers shattering the rubies and piercing deep into the singer’s head.

She died quickly, is all I can think, as I cower in a corner.

The memory fades as does my own voice laughing cruelly, and my sobs are the only sounds that I can hear.

Looking down, I am holding the stone with the four stars carved on it, and I hold it tight as I rock back and forth in the darkness.

26 AB caducus commissio (The commencement of the descent)

I will not burden you with my memories and my pain, Sister. I see you in the halls and we talk of the stars and of plans to take Equestria in the name of our glorious moon, but my heart is not in it.

Your silky black coat and steady voice ring in the back of my mind, as though I am not seeing something that is right in front of me.

Then we talk of the beauty of my stars and all is forgotten. How could I doubt my only sister?

I have begun marking the days that I have the visions, two on the same day of the year cannot be coincidence. I do not believe in things so improbable.

This time I am prepared. I awake and I do not rise from my bed, I simply look into the memory and wait for it to progress.

Starswirl sits with his legs curled beneath him on a great balcony. He is the oldest pony I have ever seen, though he has never used his powers to extend his life.

He wears dark blue and black robes, and in place of the bells I found so silly, he wears small moon charms along the edges of his cloak and hat.

“Good evening, my queen.” He says, as impassive and proper as any noble.

“Why do you still follow me, Star?” My voice demands from the shadows.

“There is a great potential for good to be done here. I may further magic and reduce the suffering of others in one fell swoop. That prospect has been a tad distant of late but I have faith in you, my queen.” His level headed response infuriates me.

“Why don’t you run? Why don’t you save yourself?” I ask.

“Why, saving myself would do me no good. You even less. You need something of me, and I have always been willing to give.” He replies.

“I am going to end your life, you should run.” I beg the memory, wanting him to flee, to teleport away.

“I have given my life to you, my queen. I never expected this to end differently.” He looks to me with pity in his eyes. Pity!

“I offer you a great power, Starswirl the bearded.” my voice says in a warning tone. “I offer you power over every aspect of magic, and a long life at my side.”

He smiles sadly. “It is not your side I wish to stand next to. It is Luna’s.”

I rise from my bed to move towards him but my own memory is faster, a bolt of magic smacking him across the tower, burning a hole in his robe.

I recoil in shock as the scene fades, to be replaced by that of a bedchamber with Star laying on the soft covers of a royal bed I do not remember.

“It has been forty three days.” He says in a soft voice. “I would ask you to let me go, but we both know you will not. I knew this would come to pass, and sadly I do not think I was incorrect in assuming you will end all six lives tied to the....”

Before he can finish his sentence, lightning forks in from every angle, lifting the unicorn off the bed sheets and filling the air with his screams.

He falls back to the bed a moment later, smoke rising from his fur.

“I’m so sorry, you were saying something?” My voice asks, a hint of amusement behind the venom.

“I forgive you.” He rasps, before another bolt of lightening suspends him in the air, screaming.

“I know you well, Luna. I know you and....” Another electric blue flash, more meaningless sound.

“I know you will hurt. You will regret this and I forgive you.”

This time I enter the memory in my own place, striding up to him and placing a hoof upon his neck.

“How dare you.” I hiss. “How dare you assume to know me.”

My magic burns him, black ichor seeping from his eyes and ears.

“Please... Please make it stop.” He wheezes.

He is scared in the end.

It is a shame that my memory counterpart does not let it end for several hours.

The servants have to carry him out in a bucket.

I sit, head hung low in shame, looking down on the stone with the single star radiating lines from it.

Regret is a heavy burden. One I must carry alone.

Even as you knock on my door, Sister. I deny you entry. I am alone, as I should be.

27 AB vastitas anima (Devastation of the soul)

Silver Wrath was my general when I led the Equestrian army. Once upon a time she was no longer my general.

The end.

No, I do not get off so easily, Sister. I know whose face I will remember as the date approaches again, and I dread it.

The night before that day I stay awake, looking into the depth of the stars with tears in my eyes, I don’t want to know how it ends.

I don’t want to know what terrible things I did to my greatest friend and closest companion.

But when I turn from the window to finally lay my head down, the vision has already come to me.

Like Brightstar, her eyes are red, but there the similarities end. Silver would not let herself be described as beautiful, and the word did not fit her.

Dangerous. That word was far more fitting.

Silver Wrath came from a family of great renown among the nobility as they were one of the few families that had given up their estates yet kept their title.

The Wraths were elite warriors to the very last, trained from foalhood in the art of combat to keep up the tradition.

After all, the best guards and the finest commanders were Wraths.

Her very mark was of twin blades crossed over a crescent moon.

She stood at attention in that unfamiliar throne room, her signature weapons stowed at her shining silver sides.

She stood a bit taller than the average mare, and her short midnight blue mane just begged others to make snide comments at its unkempt appearance, to give her an excuse.

Her eyes watched everypony with the same amused air of superiority, except for me.

She bowed as I entered the room, and her eyes seemed to soften with a friendly sort of smirk.

“I see you wear armor now, my queen.” She says haughtily.

“Decoration, nothing more.” My cold voice intones.

“Perhaps we should spar, make sure that you don’t need more.” She replies with a dangerous smile.

I had nearly lost a wing in one of our duels, and although I had increased in skill significantly, I still let Silver hold that above me.

“I prefer not to damage it so soon after having it made.” I reply. “Have you completed your mission?”

Silver rolls her eyes. “I wouldst not be here otherwise, my queen. I have executed all the captured citizens not willing to swear to an oath of fealty towards thy cause. Any children left orphaned have been taken to the garden.”

I cannot reply, the uncaring manner in which she speaks throws me off, but my voice continues.

“Excellent. Have two saved, we shall use them to deliver our messages to the Princess.” I know I speak of the goddess of the sun.

The scene fades and I return to the bedchamber in which I killed Starswirl. Silver Wrath sits upon a nearby cushion as I tell her in gleeful detail of the others I have killed.

Her face is a mask of stone.

“So I would assume I am next.” Silver says calmly.

My voice does not reply.

“It would only make sense. You cannot risk their use against you, so I must die.” She stands and moves closer to me, dropping her weapons with a ringing clang upon the stone floor.

“Well, what holds your hoof? Strike me down, my queen.” She bows with a wicked and cruel grin on her face.

“Or are you too weak?”

I finally find my voice and reply in tandem with the memory.

“I cannot kill you, Silver. I simply cannot.”

She snorts in disgust and looks down on me, eyes narrowed in anger.

“You are pathetic. Despite your power, despite all you have done, you are a filly.” She spits on the ground.

“You must make a plan and follow through. If you truly wish to free the world and remake it in your image, you must be ruthless and exact in the actions you take.”

She shakes her head as she turns away.

“You shall fail, but perhaps that is what you have wanted all along.” She gives me one last, pitying look, and she walks out of my castle and into the night.

I do not follow her.

I rage and scream, I destroy my writing desk, I kill a guard who gets in my way.

But I do not follow her.

Because she is right.

The memory falls away and I look across the room at the stone with the twin blades etched upon it. Far more painful than my own cruelty and evil is the scorn and disappointment of my only and closest friend.

I do not cry, but it is more because I feel I don’t even deserve my own pity.

28 AB solem adversum intueri (To look directly into the sun)

I stare at the four stones, I have found a fifth of roughly the same shape and size.

Equal parts of dread and anticipation drive me as I decorate and modify the castle, spending my days looking up to Equestria, wondering where the mystery castle I once owned was.

Has it really been nearly thirty years?

I spend my nights trying to dredge forth the memories that may fill in the gaps I feel. I do not know who this fifth pony was. I don’t know what horrible things I have done to this one, but I know that a fifth exists.

As the day grows nearer, I begin to withdraw from you.

I hide my growing anger at my own mind for hiding what I need, as well as suppress my growing fear at what new facet of my past this stone will show me.

Finally the night has arrived. I go to sleep early, wanting to delay the memory as long as possible.

When I awake, I am blind.

White is all I can see, I stumble from my bed in a panic, running into a wall and trying to use my magic, but I feel numb

My magic is not responding to me.

Then a voice interrupts my blind terror.

“Luna, I cannot let you do this.” The voice says. It crackles like flame, and fear overwhelms me.

“Even now, my little ponies are suffering because you will not lower your moon. This must stop.” The rage, I can feel it searing my flesh, I can smell my hair burning in the light of this fury.

My voice finally replies. “Then end this. Finish me, or let your precious Equestria fall.”

“Very well, you leave me no choice.” The inferno replies.

I feel victorious for a moment before the fear returns. “What... how?!” my voice screams.

“You cant, its impossible! I killed them!” my memory shouts.

Finally the cursed flame consumes me, and I could swear I hear the sun goddess say something more, but it is drowned out by my own keening cry before the blessed darkness reclaims me.

29 AB Pereo inlumino (The death of illumination)

I awake to your embrace, Sister. I am silent as I contemplate the stone laying on the other side of the room, a jagged sun carved upon its face.

“Now you know why we must fight the Sun, little one.” You say quietly.

I am not burned, but the cold of the metal floor I lay upon is comforting.

That cursed ball of fire, and its god, are responsible for all my suffering.

We will destroy them. Our suffering will pale in comparison to the things we will do to her.

But first, we must escape.

Mannulus

30 AB crudelitas (cruelty)

I swing the Luname in vicious stabs and parries as you block my attacks with expert precision. The ring of metal and our panting carries across the barren lunar surface.

With a final lunge, I draw a thin line of blood on your foreleg, a victorious whinny escaping me as I back away.

We bow and lay to rest, looking up at Equestria.

“When we escape, shall we take Canterlot by force? Or better yet, subvert her ponies and corrupt her very land from the inside?” Your gleeful voice is only matched by my grin.

“We will first eliminate the last weakness we have, we find the weapon she used against us and destroy it.” I reply, looking upwards.

“Do you know where our castle was?” I ask wistfully.

You gesture to the forest that cuts across the sun goddesses realm. “The Everfree Forest. Once the capital of all Equestria, we drove the sun from it and claimed it as our own. Creatures of great power and magic defenses of every sort were put in place to keep her from attacking us directly.” Your face falls as you pause in your recollection.

“In the end it was our own brash actions that led us to fall. We must never give quarter, must never accept anything but victory.” You tell me.

I smile, a wicked smile.

“I have already watched myself kill my only friends and companions, what could possibly stop me?” I smirk and stand to trot back to the castle, and I could swear as I leave you look surprised, possibly even frightened.

31 AB Depravo (depraved)

The little one has become more akin to me than I ever thought possible.

I cannot help but ponder the effect this will have on her mental stability, after all I do live in her mind.

She seems determined to destroy you, which I feel is a wonderful triumph, considering that just years ago she held you as an idol.

If you cannot hear us, then you will be taken completely unaware when we come for you. If you can hear us, then I am sure this is just tearing you up inside.

I truly hope you can hear us.

I hope every word echoes in your head like your damnable apology haunted mine.

For now, my little apprentice is in need of training, and we are going to begin finding a way out of this prison.

No force can hold us. No being can stop fear itself.

32 AB dominatio (despotism)

The illusions of grey ponies you have made for me offer a semblance of power and comfort. My subjects stand guard around the castle and serve us.

Though the food and drink are illusions, it offers a comfort I have sorely missed in the last three decades.

You take your throne next to mine and lean in conspiratorially. “One of the illusions in this room is a spy from the sun princess, how do you figure out which one it is?”

I ponder the question for a moment.

“I suppose I cannot simply execute them all?” I ask you with a grin.

“No, you do not have the resources to replace them all.” you answer with a similar smile.

“Very well.” I call the illusionary ponies forward.

“You may all go home early, we will not have need of your services for the upcoming meeting.” I intone in a bored voice, and then I dismiss them.

You smile, and a moment later I get up and glide silently to the door, catching one of the servants hiding behind a pillar. “Boo.”

He panics and tries to run but I grab hold of him and rip his head from his neck.

The illusion fades and you applaud.

“Excellent. You are learning quickly.” you say with pride, and we leave to spar in the rock strewn wastes.

33 AB praestrigia (an action taken to deceive)

I must work ever harder against the subconscious of the little one, as she begins to take control of my illusions.

Even when asleep the foal is influencing my creations, as they move about the castle and go about the motions of living beings, I catch them talking to each other in gibberish or doing odd things like dancing or humming.

This must end. I cannot let her have control over the very tool I am using to subvert her.

I disenchant each fictional pony that displays these traits, creating new ones from moon dust and magic to take their place.

The replacements begin to do the same things and in my fury I destroy more and more of them, my anger building until the floor is covered in small piles of dust.

“You will not best me, foal.” I hiss, before bringing forth my magic for one final attempt, and bring forth my servants.

When I open my eyes, the crowd of grey ponies are staring back at me, then as a herd they turn and resume their duties.

But now they are watching me, my own creations are watching me!

Their eyes are full of fear and they are wary of me, abandoning each room as I enter.

How is this possible? What mad sorcery is it that the little one is calling upon to twist my little ponies to her will?

I will find out, and I will punish her for using it.

34 AB conscientia (consciousness)

My days are spent in a fog of training, puzzles to solve, and talk of ruling a nation.

You have begun to make the illusions more lifelike.

I am ashamed to say I enjoyed the screams as I killed the last “spy”.

They bow to me when I pass and they avert their eyes from my gaze, as they should.

I heard two of them talking about a rock garden, imagine that. Illusions talking of rock gardens. You truly are a better illusionist than I, Sister.

I have named the illusion that waits on me most often.

“Onyx” is darker grey than the others, and speaks in a grave voice, just like a butler I once had.

“Good evening madame.” he will say, and I will chuckle and remind him there is no evening on the moon.

“Good moon evening then.” is the response he always gives.

A simple illusion but endlessly entertaining.

The fun stops when I find Onyx standing over me as I sleep, looking down on me with pity in his eyes.

“Madame.” he says and walks away.

I have now taken to sealing my doors against illusions of all things.

Is this your idea of a joke Sister? Have you decided to train me in how to be as paranoid as you as well?

It is working.

Spectra

35 AB Spectra (color)

Onyx still seeks to serve me, following me about like a lost foal looking for its mother. This is growing tiresome, and you seem to claim ignorance of all this.

My own sister, and you claim not to know why these illusions will not stop following me. You pretend to dispel one but it returns so quickly that I could swear it only flickered.

My red hot anger swirls around me like a windstorm whenever I am alone, I know it must be you, after all....

We are alone.

These illusions mutter to themselves and remain even after being banished or destroyed....

We are alone.

It has to be you. It has to be some sort of trick, the only other option is beyond consideration.

So I begin watching you, stalking you as you go about your day which is odd. I’ve noticed you have taken up the ritual I so recently abandoned.

You go to the bright silver side of the moon, and you glare up at the sphere with such hate and anger that I wonder how you do not light aflame from your very emotions.

Then you practice your swordplay without me. I have grown distrustful of you and will not spar so you go through the motions on your own, tossing grey rocks into the air to break through them with the shining Luname.

Then, as the blue and green sphere turns and our goal rolls out of sight, you break down. You sob and curl up into a dark black ball in the dust.

Pathetic.

I return to the castle with my head held high. I am above your show of emotion. I am strong and will not cave to the lonely existence we share.

A fake guard dressed in silvery armor stands at the doorway and opens the door for me. His light grey eyes follow me, and for a moment I think I see a glimmer of blue.

Walking into the hall, the others move away from me on my way to the throne.

Finally I sit myself on the royal blue cushions and tap the leg rest three times to summon one of the imitation ponies.

The one that responds is styled like a young mare with straight hair and nervous eyes.

I would be nervous if I were in her position.

“Bring me several sheets of parchment and a stylus.” Although my parchment is metal, I call it by the same name.

“Yes my queen.” The illusion says quietly, turning away to obey my orders.

For a moment I have a thought of differentiating this nervous one from the others in case I wish to call on her again, and I call out to her, “What is your name?”

She winces as if in pain, and turns to face me.

Her vivid but unbelievably dark purple eyes take hold of me.

“Regret.” She said sadly.

“Did my sister give you that name?” I growl.

She simply shakes her head and turns to leave.

“Who named you?!” I shout.

She flinches again and seems to retreat into herself just like any serving mare would, and looks back to me, those eyes holding a spark of life that no illusion should ever carry.

“You did.” She whispers.

36 AB Curio

I have not seen Regret since that night. She hides from me.

Another illusion had brought me the supplies I asked for.

This one was a stallion named Curio, apparently. He said I gave him this name as well.

He stuck around far longer than I would have preferred, his green-tinged eyes following my every move until I dismissed him.

These are blatant names and personalities, but they insist I gave them. I was not even the one to summon them, how could I give them names, color, and voices without realizing it?

I have taken to keeping a list of the illusions and their names.

I hope to discover a pattern, some semblance of magic controlling them since I have yet to see you do anything to them.

When I attempt to take control of one of the illusions it cries out in pain, and I receive an incredible drain on my own powers, the likes of which I have never felt before.

I destroyed the one named Curio. He returned moments later, and asked me what had happened.

This makes no sense, Sister. Not only are you not controlling them but I cannot take control from their source. I am one of the most powerful beings in existence.

Nothing can stop my will.

Curio now pesters me incessantly, proposing ideas or theories everytime I turn my back.

I am sorely tempted to try some of his theories on him if only to cease his incessant talking.

Finally I force him to leave and rest, lazily scrawling my ideas and thoughts upon the metal sheets I have, thinking of nothing and doing nothing.

When he returns his eyes are of emerald green, and I greet his reappearance with a battery of magical tests to discern what has changed.

The problem is that nothing has changed. not a single bit of the illusion is different.

I swear this will drive me mad.

37 AB Fear

Curio has been absent of late, and I have had to call on another illusion to continue my research.

She is named Fear.

I am not blind to the implications of this name, and I treat her gently since otherwise she will likely run screaming down the halls or something just as dramatic.

But the research continues unabated.

These illusions are a miracle of magic, woven together by pure lunar energy.

But though I am particularly gifted in deciphering both lunar spells and illusions, these are like an onion of complexity and power.

Not only are they able to interact with physical object and speak but they seem to develop additional attributes over time.

Where these attributes come from I cannot discern, but I have been able to convince Fear to become my spy.

By subduing the physical aspects of the illusion I have sent her to watch you, my dear sister.

She is the perfect spy. She reports to me all I need to know about your daily movements and rituals, although you have become increasingly predictable and boring.

The voice she speaks with is that of a friend I had almost five hundred years ago.

She is dead and gone now, of course. I watched her grow old and wither away.

For nearly a week I sit staring into the black void thinking of that memory. One I had not recalled until now.

Her name had been Laurel Richeart.

I ponder why my heart does not ache remembering her.

Perhaps it is because I am more worried for myself than some long dead mare.

Perhaps it is because I am missing part of the memory.

I summon Fear and I stare into the void with her at my side.

Perhaps I do not want to know how some stories end.

38 AB resignation

I have stopped my research.

I don’t want to know what is causing these illusions.

Fear follows me at all times, her dark purple eyes and deep purple coat betraying the fact that she is more than an illusion now.

She has no mark, however. I have to wonder if she will gain one while running away from you, Sister.

She avoids you except for when I order her to follow you, she tells me in a whispered voice that you have hurt them before.

Not surprising, I am sure that when you lost control of them it enraged you, you have such a tenuous grasp upon your emotions after all.

Curio stops by every once in awhile, and chats with Fear.

“Did the queen figure out what we are?”

“No. but she doesnt hurt us like the shadow does.”

I ponder the choice of words these sentient illusions have used.

I am apparently the queen, which is interesting, I remember vaguely fighting for that title but not why. It seems an empty thing now.

And you are the shadow.

Nothing but a dim outline of my greatness.

This seems appropriate as you lose yourself in useless combat play upon the light side of the moon.

39 AB Destinatus (determination)

I cannot rest, I cannot sleep. Those accursed illusions watch my every movement by the little one’s command.

I spend my days lost in meditation and practice on the light side of the moon, far from the prying eyes of her army.

When the tears overtake me, I can only think of how even my own mind and soul push me away.

I am so alone that even my very source wants nothing to do with me.

If I had the power, I would destroy us both.

I return to the castle, head hung low in contemplation.

Doing my best to ignore the dark green guard, I walk in and pass several other darkly colored and mute illusions before I find her again.

She is staring out of a window with one of the apparitions, who flees when I approach.

“Hello, sister.” She drawls lazily, turning to face me.

It is sickening how much of myself I see in her.

“Hello Luna.” I finally say as I sit nearby.

“I have been thinking on our plans for escape.”

To be truthful I had not been expecting that, in the intervening years I have been more focused on preparing her and figuring out the oddities of our imprisonment than escape.

“Oh?” I decide to let her explain herself, rather than asking outright what she is thinking.

“Yes, I think that we can fuel the escape using these illusions. They seem tied to the moon’s power in an intricate way but I have plenty of time to figure it out.”

My smile grows. She still does not understand that she is tied to them. That they are fueled by her magic.

If she tries to execute this plan, she could very well destroy us both.

“Sounds like an excellent plan.” I say with a benevolent smile.

Laughing Alone

The bar was quiet, too quiet.

Or at least, too quiet for an extremely bored pony with too much drink and not enough sense in her head.

Brightstar nudged her flagon across the bar and back again, a small squeaking sound issuing from its every movement, sending twitches through the somber crowd.

*squeek* pause *squeek* pause *squeek* pause *squeek* pause *squeek* pause

A hoof finally came down, knocking the drinkware away from her and jostling the table enough to knock her foreleg from under her chin.

She didn't bother holding her head up, and let it thud to the bar.

“um... miss?” a voice, presumably the voice of the pony who had interrupted her musical de la cup, said from nearby.

“Are you ok?”

Brightstar wasn't ok. she came to bars to unwind, to relax. nopony here was talking, much less letting loose.

“NO!” she finally said, sitting up on her barstool with a manic gleam in her eyes.

“No I'm not, how are you? I’m not ok. I’m not ok because you are all so boooooooooooooring!” she was panting as she loomed over the started stallion who had backed away from her.

“Come on! free drinks on me to the first pony to give me something to laugh about!” she called out, seeing oddly panicked expressions as they all backed away from her.

The stallion who had been talking to her before tried to shush her. “The princess of the moon is here!” he hissed.

“Luna?! Lunas getting drunk in a bar? I wanna meet her! where is she?” Bright prowled around the room, finally finding the bemused princess in a side booth.

Bright grinned and stood upon luna’s table, raising her forelegs into the air.

“Princess of the moon and you all decide to be sticks in the mud. THIS IS A BAR!”

“Hey luna, what's the difference between a bar and a guard shack?” she asked, leaning over to the lunar princess and waiting for her response.

“I do not know, young pony.”

“Apparently not much except this lot can't drink as much as the guards!”

That got a mild mannered chuckle from Luna as Bright looked over the grumpy patrons and the exasperated bartender.

“Good evening folks, my name is Brightstar, and I’m this evening’s entertainment.”

That night had been the first of many during which Brightstar was a shoulder to cry on, an ear that would listen to the princess' woes, and a friend. They grew close and soon the princess of the night was spending entire nights in disguise, making friends and having good times.

It was when the princess began to speak ill of her sister, began to harbor a dark anger and bitterness that had never been there before, Brightstar turned away.

No longer was she there for her princess, and Luna took it as an insult.

Author's Note

This was a random write I was unsure about publishing, but with my lack of progress on this story, I need something to jolt myself back into my rhythm. Hopefully this isn't too unrelated.

Auspex

40 AB Auspex (one who divines from birds)

I watch the little one as she ties together layers of her magic. They are so intricate that they are blinding. She weaves a net of raw power around the one called Curio, but he is not afraid. He is an illusion after all, and I am sure he does not know what fear or curiosity is. These are simple imitations they display.

The fake pony asks the little one what she is doing.

“I am going to use the magic that fuels you to try and escape from this place,” she says calmly.

“Oh, neat!” the illusion says. For a moment, I think he is truly incapable of intelligent thought until worry begins creasing his brow. “Well, that will hurt, won’t it?” He asks calmly.

“Yes. It likely will,” Luna says with a nod, her impassive expression unchanging.

“At least it will be in your service,” Curio says in a shaking tone.

She pauses, eyes wide. “You are not afraid?”

“Oh, I am afraid, my queen, but I will do what I must to serve you.”

She falters and the magic unravels like so many threads being set loose into the wind. Her voice is torn with guilt and horror in realization of what she had been about to do. I cannot help but wonder what has happened to the strong willed and determined mare who had been ready to do what was needed a moment ago.

“Well, why have you stopped?” I ask with a smirk. “Complete the spell.”

She looks to me and her voice catches in her throat as she speaks.

“Since when did you have blue hair, Sister?”

I look over her dark visage and starry mane, and I wonder the same thing.

41 AB Retrexo (to unravel)

I awake on the bitterly cold dust of the moon, and immediately I vomit. I heave, but nothing comes up. I have not eaten anything in so very long. My body aches for water, for air, for sunlight. The dark side of the moon is so very desolate, and as I crawl slowly towards the light, I look to the stars.

41 years, Sister. I have been gone so long that there will be full grown subjects who have not heard of me. I deserve it. I utterly deserve this, or worse. I dry heave again as my mind races over the intervening years.

Such a simple spell, to lock myself into a fantasy to keep myself happy. I had cast it without even noticing. I look down at my legs, hobbled by the self inflicted wounds I had tried to forget by driving myself into a dream.

With a flare of silver power, I heal the injuries, but the emptiness and hunger remains. I had thought I knew of hunger when I hungered for power, but it takes starvation to show a ruler what it is like to be poor, so it takes desolation to show me how loved I was.

Oh Moonflower...

I can feel the darkness inside of me, seething. Even this burning anger cannot last forever, and that is precisely what you have given me, forever.

It is like looking into a mirror that talks back, showing you exactly where you have failed.

The hate for myself I feel is nothing compared to the sorrow.

42 AB Imbellis (feeble)

I will be forced to return to the dream soon, I can feel my grasp on reality slipping even in a year’s time. The solitude is stifling. It feels as though every rock and shadow is a pony I have wronged watching me. To truly be alone would be fine for one such as I, but I am not alone as long as I have my regrets.

I found that it is not possible to create a violin out of this metal, and heating it to melting takes an extraordinary amount of energy. That must have been part of the dream then.

I keep expecting to turn and see another part of myself, snarling or smiling sweetly to tell me which of them I am. Am I Nightmare or Luna today?

Nopony knows.

The planet above is beautiful. Your light warms it and graces it with life in the most beautiful way. All I do is provide an empty promise of light without life during the night.

This existence is such a feeble thing. I have gazed beyond the feathers of reality to see the bones and muscle that tear apart galaxies when they flex.

I have drowned my closest confidants in blood and mercy as they gag out thanks and praise to my celestial beauty.

My mind is a flight of butterflies, a fleeting interaction of desperate attempts for clarity.

I am fading.

I am playing chicken with the cliff of sanity.

I am dreaming.

43 AB liberi (Children)

The world is so warm.

I writhe myself out of a protective embrace to gaze around at the starry void around me, the glimmers of light in the distance winking at me playfully. I feel the light and the joy of this empty yet crowded place, and bathe in it.

Soon I come to realize I am not alone, but it does not worry me. My twin smiles back as she gazes into the stars with me.

We orbit our home in tandem, dancing an intricate dance of tides and shimmering light.

We play on the grassy shores of this empty world that has always been there for us.

Our hooves pound across these peaceful lands as we dodge, and jump, and play. If only this could last forever.

We twin moons grow cold over time, and our movements slow to stretch eons between our crossing.

I feel as though I am growing old, though I am but an infant.

I am not happy with this world, so I end it. My moon crashing into it with the finality of death.

44 AB Remedium (healing)

I look into the mirror, and the mirror looks back.

No frame, or silver glass holds us apart, yet we are loathe to cross that boundary and embrace. We both feel the same pain and the same ache, but we cannot help each other. How could we? Every comfort, we would know how to destroy. Every hug, we would be carrying out in self pity, and thus they would be hollow.

So we must not be the same. We must be different, or die. My reflection grows smaller, weaker, and gentler. All the while I am growing fangs and releasing any warmth from my heart. I know suffering, and I know pain. She knows sorrow and isolation.

I will carry the flame that will bear us through this exile alive, and she can be the one that cries in the corner each night, knowing damn well that I wish I could.

So now we gaze at each other with new eyes, through tinted lenses that allow our hearts to differ enough to where we are two separate beings, the good and the bad. So now we cross that line and embrace. We cry, and we truly know regret.

Quiet

45 AB Quiet

The silence is surely what will drive me mad first.

Of the five senses, each one a marvel of function and necessary for a pony to live, there are ponies born without the abilities of each. Of course, saying there are 5 senses in the first place is inaccurate. There are more than a dozen possible senses when the living pony is considered in all of it's complexity, but to keep from being consumed by that thought process, let us stay to the child's lesson of five. Sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell. These senses are all cooperative and incredibly useful, but survival without one or many of them is not only possible, it is nearly routine in the modern world. Those ponies who do not have the ability to see or to hear are treated kindly and raised to live as full a life as any other. So I cannot say that without sensation I will crumble, it would be incredibly petty of me.

But I may state with certainty that I personally am less capable of surviving the loss of some sensations over others.

Touch I have. I can make smooth and rough surfaces, and though dust invades every waking moment I can even clear myself of that feeling, and close myself off in a cave or rocky area where I am free from it. I can carve like these words into stone and metal tablets, and I can feel my own body. A softness that feels like an imitation of any normal pony.

Sight I also have retained, even if I cannot see what I would like, I can observe my surroundings, and I can observe your sun, and your Equestria. I can even obtain some color by scorching things and making them shimmer.

Smell and taste, though things I greatly enjoy, are not critical to me. They are luxuries for an alicorn that does not need to eat or breathe. There is no point in taking joy from things.

Hearing... I hear a high pitched ringing. No sound, not even when I slam stones together and create explosions violent enough to vaporize rocks. There is no sound when I try to breathe and choke on the lack of air. There is no sound when I try to scream, airless lungs expelling nothing.

I think that the quiet will be the first thing to drive me mad.

46 AB

Chemistry is really fascinating. The study of the particles that form our reality.

I had to start with creating a sealed area. Deep under the surface, twenty hooves thick metal shell around a fifty hoof wide spherical room, just barely big enough for my wings to spread.

From there, I brought down dust and began heating it. You see, when you heat something you encourage it to disassemble. When you apply pressure, you encourage randomness and action. In a sealed container, there is nowhere for any products from the process to go, and products there were.

Air.

Certainly no pony would call it air. It is a toxic gas that my lungs barely register as breathable, and which has more heavy metals in it than any Equestrian creature could survive, but it is enough to carry sound. A surprise gift from my experiments to me was the byproducts. Not just metal, but glass. Glass!

47 AB

How incredibly egotistical of me to think that I could make a violin that could play any recognizable notes with moon glass and metal. It's shrill and flat, or it could be the odd quality of the air I've created. It seems my voice is tinny and high pitched. Strange. I have fashioned my failed violins into lenses though. This I know much about. Optics and telescopes were a passion of mine, do you remember? Of course you remember, I pestered you for hours to come stargazing with me when I made my first telescope.

You never did.

I assembled a new telescope, moon metal and moon glass and months of careful assembly while talking to myself in my own little chamber. Talking to myself is a welcome reprieve after so long unable to hear any sound that was not created by my magic or delusions.

Five feather diameter, twelve hooves long, it's a refactor type, simple but certainly more sophisticated designs would require silver to create mirrors, and I have yet to distill this moon metal to anything more exotic than it's base mixture.

When I took the telescope out for its first viewing, my eye strayed again and again back to Equestria, instead of the beautiful stars. I keep looking at the curve of the Eastern coast, following the lines of the landmasses, and wondering at the lack of borders. I cannot see where Equestria ends and the dragon lands begin. I cannot see where the Crystal empire used to be. It all looks so... Whole. Untouched.

48 AB

I found your new capital city, sister. I found it like an insect perched on the side of Canterlot mountain. It's blasphemy, that you would abandon our capital in favor of some elitist retreat in the mountains.

Stars, I sound like you. Do you remember? When I was talking about grand decorations and facades of marble?

You can have your castle on the mountain, and I will have my buried refuge and my spyglass.

I keep trying to see more. I want to see you. I want to see you being miserable, alone, defeated. You're all that I can obsess with. I have to try and understand you in order to defeat you, or to understand how you defeated me.

But this telescope is not powerful enough, and it will not show me anything but the small lump of grey on Canterlot Mountain.

I will keep refining it, I will keep trying to gain this advantage, after all I'm certain you cannot see me, or would want to. You are happy to have me gone, and Equestria to be all yours.

49 AB

I saw you, sister.

I saw you crying in the garden. Three years to build my telescope and refine it, then rebuild it again and again with a singleminded obsession, and this is my bitter reward.

I saw you crying in the newly built gardens of Canterlot.

How could you cry? You've won. You finally got rid of me.