Beneath the whole moon, there is a corpse in the far east. Skin and muscle are strewn over its grisly frame. The tongueless corpse wore a formless crown of Steel on its head, as it spoke in a voice that was not its own, moved by a mind that was not its own, gifted clarity that was not its own.

Its words were long and eldritch, as it recited a poem in a thousand different tongues into the void. Fingers curled around a shard of purest iron, blood dripping from a growing wound.

The moon broke, as the corpse whispered - "Fear the Lady in Lavender."

For in Canterlot, Twilight Sparkle has just been born.

This story is standalone.

There is, and will not be any explicit sexual content. There are implications of a nonconsensual relationship.

Thanks to iAmSiNnEr for editing!
The cover art is a piece created by viwrastupr. I did not draw it!