The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.

There once was a thing of Burden and Fate,
Whom countered a word far too late.
And so this thing cast out its Heart,
Who laughed as he tore her apart.

There once was a man of Anger and Hate,
Whom lived a life of pain and a life that was great.
And so this man looked at his Heart,
And wept as the hungry waves tore her apart.

Then, there was I, who died a lie.
A work of art to hide from Her eye.
Then, there was I, risen from below.
An illusionist, come to say hello.

Two creatures evershifting lay still within the void.

The first creature was red. He was not a deep shade of wine, or rich crimson - but a dull, pale thing of something middling. His form was diminutive. Evershifiting, yes - but small in both physical and magical stature.

The second creature was lavender - yet a lavender purer than any that came before. It was as if someone had distilled every single aspect of the color itself, and concentrated it into a single, impossible shade - a shade that boggles the mind itself and couldn’t be conveyed with mere words alone. Her form was Catastrophe. A flickering mass of tinted shade, screaming and conflicting with the nature of reality itself. A being transcendent, an Infant God and Divinity Made Real, with all her many eyes.

And her world was broken.

Her vision, a blurry mess. It might’ve been from an inability to focus - or, more likely, it was from the tears running down her face as she frantically pawed at the floor with one hoof. The other scratched at her own throat desperately, poking into it and scratching away at the fur and the strange flesh below.

“Can’t. Can’t.”

She felt like she was dying - and worse, she felt like she was dying alone. Around her, there was nothing, nothing - no magic, no air, no light, no void, no dark - nothing, nothing. There was just her mind - her infinite mind, endless and endless and stretching on and out and on and out and-

“Breathe, Twilight Sparkle.” A hand slowly placed itself on the back of her neck. Her instinct was to whip around, draconic sets of teeth snapping down towards a wrist - yet as her teeth locked down around bone, the skeletal creature didn’t flinch.

“You are safe,” Antaicus spoke very softly. “You are not alone. Breathe in, breathe out. Take your time.”

Twilight’s jaw clamped down harder around the bone. Antaicus still didn’t react, instead placing his other hand very gently on her back and steadying her. Some instinctual part of Twilight demanded her to bite down more, to crush the bone and devour this thing -

“My little star.”

Twilight took in a deep, wheezing breath. Immediately, she began coughing as she let go of the bone, her jaw unhinging at an unnatural angle as she inhaled frantically.

“Exhale, Twilight.”

A deep, wheezing exhale. Her coughing was now something that sounded like sickly, wet sputters - and strange black ichor began to drip down from her tongue and splatter onto the void below.

The situation stayed stagnant for a while. Antaicus, repeatedly reminding Twilight to exhale or inhale - and Twilight, slowly, slowly collecting herself. Eventually, the filly pulled away from Antaicus’ touch and pulled herself up to her hooves on shaking legs.

The skeletal wolf tilted his head to the side, not getting up from his kneeling position. “Are you done?” His tone was flat and cold - but in a strange way, it made it that much warmer. Utterly unjudging of Twilight - utterly neutral.

Twilight slowly nodded as she wiped black ichor from her lips.

“Good. And now what are you going to do?”

Twilight blinked a few times unevenly as she finished collecting herself. Her legs slowly stopped trembling, and her breathing finally relaxed. She let out a final, shuddering sigh - before asking, “where?”

Antaicus righted his head, but didn’t comment audibly.

He wants me to figure it out.

Twilight shut her eyes and let out a soft hum as she started to piece information together. As it stood, the facts presented to her were this.

1. The creature in front of her is the cause of this.
2. The creature is named Antaicus.
3. Antaicus doesn’t seem to be hostile. He wants to have a conversation.
4. As far as she could tell, there is nothing around Twilight - not even magic, or leylines. A disturbing amount of nothing.

Twilight?

Twilight’s eyes snapped open wide. Her head whipped around wildly - until the two pieces snapped together quickly. Spike - was - her. And she was Spike. The two weren’t just inseparable, they were two parts of the same thing. And nothing could break them apart.

Twilight snapped open parts of her mind and greedily grabbed onto the psychic thread - wrapping her dragon in a psychic embrace.
Spike. Where are you?
It’s dark. There’s nothing.
Come, Twilight asked. And Spike simply appeared by her side with a burst of violet flame. Antaicus crossed his arms - and Twilight could swear that he was smirking, despite having no face.

Twilight hated this. She enjoyed puzzles - but not when puzzles were like - this. There was nothing that made sense about this place, and it already hurt her head. There was nothing. There shouldn’t be, there couldn’t be nothing. Even in dreams, even in sleep - Twilight could still feel the thrum of magic. And before her, there was none. No leylines, no mana, nothing to draw from. It felt wrong. Twilight’s mouth felt dry.

It’s okay. Spike curled himself tightly around Twilight’s neck, nuzzling his face deeper into her fur. Twilight swallowed the copper-tasting saliva in her mouth and slowly started to pace around in circles.

This isn’t possible.
Explain why it isn’t.
It’s not.
Twilight. You can-
Right. Cast my senses out.

Twilight planted her hooves down into the ground as she started tentatively expanding her senses past her body. She was racked by a series of spasms quickly - as her additional senses pushed past Spike’s burning hot soul, and rubbed up against Antaicus’ soul.

If Twilight was water, Antaicus was oil. It physically pulled away from her senses - yet brushed up and slithered over it. It was responding to mere observation - not physical interaction. Though, in a sense, observation was physical interaction, Twilight supposed.

Twilight.
Right. Twilight shook her head side to side rapidly, pulling herself away from her tangent. Twilight rapidly pushed her senses out even further - as far as they could go…and found nothing.

That doesn’t make sense.
So interact.

Twilight paused for a moment, before internally grunting at herself. Considering that Spike was just an extension of her - the thought was clearly somewhere within her conscious. Nonetheless, it still felt like she hadn’t thought of something - and that annoyed her.

Twilight’s horn lit, and she started pulling magic into herself. Or…trying to. Even with her horn lit, her magical reserves fully open and inviting all stray magic in - Twilight felt nothing. She couldn’t feel any magic to draw from. So it wasn’t just a trick of the senses.

Couldn’t it be?
But I can’t feel any magic entering my reserves.
You can’t see any magic either.

Twilight’s brow furrowed slightly. She concentrated a non-insignificant portion of her available reserves into a single point at the tip of her horn, readying up an energy blast…

Antaicus shook his head slightly. Twilight paused - and instead, just let the magic dissipate into thin air. Her vision flitted up - and the thinnest of smirks spread across her face as she didn’t see lingering magic in the air.

That much magic couldn’t disappear that quickly. So there was magic. But it was just being - hidden from her.

On one hoof, it was reassuring that she wasn’t transported instantly into a realm without magic.
On the other hoof, it was terrifying that someone was able to hide - magic - from her.

“You’re tricking me.” Twilight mumbled. Antaicus slowly pushed himself up into a standing position.

“You’re smart.”

“Yes.” Twilight agreed. Antaicus let out a dry chuckle before walking towards her slowly. Spike crawled up onto Twilight’s forehead - squatting down a little bit before he hissed towards the skeleton, flickers of embers echoing in the back of his mouth.

Don’t trust him.

“I’ll repeat my introduction. My name is Antaicus. Would you like to have a conversation with me, Twilight Sparkle?” He kneeled down right in front of Twilight, to be eye level with the filly.

Twilight slowly nodded.

Antaicus shifted his position so that he was sitting cross-legged. “Good. I have two conditions, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Why are you s…s-s…saying,” Twilight forced out, “my full - name?”

“It, along with our location, is a show of intimidation. Judging from your initial reaction, it worked.”

Twilight grimaced. “Conditions.”

“The first condition is that I will never lie to you. I will dance around words. I will leave out details. I will never, however, flat-out tell you anything that is not truthful. I do not expect you to do the same, but the courtesy would be appreciated. The second condition is…tangentially related. After this conversation, you will ask me one question - and I will speak the utter truth. Then, I will ask you one question, and you will speak the utter truth. ”

“And - if I…refuse?”

“Then we don’t have a conversation.” Antaicus tilted his head to the side. “I thought that would be self explanatory.”

Don’t trust him.
Of course not. But I’ll bite.

“...Deal.”

“I’ll start. Do our surroundings make you uncomfortable, Twilight Sparkle?”

“Yes.” Twilight nodded with a grimace. “Hate it.”

Antaicus nodded and waved his hand to the side. There was a rush of energy - and the black void blended away into a scene of idyllic greenery and rolling hills in a location that Twilight didn’t recognize. She still couldn’t feel the magic in the air - but she could feel the air on her skin, see the light and glance up to peer at the False Sky and just beyond. It was still - unnerving, but it wasn’t enough to push her to another panic attack.

“Is this better?”

“Slightly.”

Antaicus nodded. “It’s the magic, isn’t it?”

Twilight nodded.

“I’m sorry. There’s not much I can do about that. It would give away the secret.” Antaicus winked.

“Who are you?”

“Like I said. My name is Antaicus.”

“I didn’t ask that. I asked who are you, n-not what your name is.”

“Perceptive. Keep that up.” Antaicus winked - which took the appearance of one of the floating red orbs in his skull disappearing for a second.

“Still didn’t answer.” Twilight couldn’t help but slip a hint of annoyance into her tone.

“My name is Antaicus. I died while living a lie. I am not from Aezilan, and I am very old.”

“You won’t tell me more?”

“No.” Antaicus shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“How are you tricking me?”

“That’s something you’re going to have to find out. Do you feel like people hate you, Twilight Sparkle?”

Twilight grunted. “No. Stop saying t-that. Just - Twilight.”

Antaicus held a hand up slightly defensively. “Of course. My apologies, Twilight. You don’t think people hate you?”

“No.” Twilight tilted her head to the side. “People don’t hate monsters. They fear them.”

“So you think you’re a monster, then?”

“Yes.” Twilight answered very quickly. Antaicus slowly nodded.

“Do you think Celestia is afraid of you?”

Twilight paused for a moment. “...Yes.”

“And that makes you sad.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I’m afraid of you?”

Twilight glanced up towards him - making eye contact for a fraction of a second. “No.”

Antaicus leaned in slightly. “Are you afraid of me?”

Twilight’s mouth opened to respond-
Don’t answer that.
Twilight tilted her head to the side. “Are you?”

Antaicus couldn’t smile, but Twilight knew he was. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Perceptive,” Twilight mumbled. “Keep that up.” She pawed at the ground.

Antaicus tilted his head back and let out a hearty chuckle, slapping a hand onto his ribcage.

Twilight’s brow furrowed. “How do you - speak? Without lungs?”

Antaicus shrugged. “I’ve learned not to question it. The short of it is magic.”

“What kind of magic?” Twilight probed further, hoping to get some sort of hint towards his nature.

“The powerful kind,” Antaicus shrugged. He tilted his head to the side. “What about you, Twilight? What kind of magic do you like?”

Twilight frowned slightly. “All magic.”

Antaicus nodded. “Hm. So why haven’t you read the Conqueror’s Penance?”

Twilight’s blood ran cold. “How - do you know?”

Antaicus didn’t respond, his orbs just locking onto her. Twilight cringed slightly underneath his gaze.

I hate this.
You could kill him. You could grind him to a pulp. You could crush his soul in your teeth and slurp up his magic. Nothing could stop you. No one could stop you.
No.
Why not? It's what we're mean to do.
My little star.
I wont, Twilight insisted - and Spike knew that it was final.

Twilight glanced up towards Antaicus. “Do you know my fake-father?”

“Fake-father?”

“Frost.”

Antaicus hesitated for a fraction of a second, Twilight noted. “I suppose I do. Why is he your fake-father?”

“Because I don’t want him to be my real-father.”

“Is that how it works?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Antaicus nodded slowly. “The right attitude for a Conqueror.”

“I’m not a Conqueror.”

Antaicus shrugged. “You’re right. You could be a Martyr. Die, for the sins of those who came before you. Or lord over them as the deity of magic you were born for. Do you know what you are, Twilight?”

Twilight was silent.

“There isn’t much more to say, Twilight. So how about this. You’re going to ask me a question, and I’ll answer honestly. Then, I’m going to ask that question again, and you’re going to answer honestly. And then, I’ll tell you something. Do you agree?”

Twilight pawed more at the ground - staying silent for an uncomfortable period of time before reluctantly nodding.
“Then ask away.”

Her mouth opened. Her first instinct was to ask - how? How was something like this - possible? It shouldn’t be possible to strip Twilight of her senses. Of her ability to see, to receive - anything. To cripple her. If Antaicus had wanted to, he could’ve brought her into this world and left her alone - leaving her crippled, broken, shattered. It was the most terrifying thought that Twilight had ever had, aside from the visage of her Celestia’s broken body.

But it was magic.

It had to be magic. Only magic could do something on that scale. And Twilight - was very, very good at magic. Magic made sense to her. It made more sense than people did. So really - there was only one thing she could’ve ever asked.

“...Why did you help me?” Twilight whispered. Her gaze met Antaicus’ for a few seconds.

Antaicus tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“The - panic attack. When you brought me here. You - helped me. Why?”

Antaicus didn’t respond at first. He paused for a long enough period of time that Twilight wondered if he had heard her at all - but soon, a long hm interrupted her from asking again.

“You, Twilight, are the single most important person in the universe. And though I know you will never truly trust me - I don’t want to see you hurt, when you don’t need to be.” Antaicus leaned in very close, very quickly - Twilight flinching away as his tone dropped multiple octaves. “And if anyone was to dare to hurt you without my permission - I would throw their screaming and gibbering corpses into the Outer Beyond to rot for all eternity.”

“Do you know what you are, Twilight Sparkle?”

We know, Spike hissed right in her ear. Her body shuddered as saliva oozed from her mouth at the recollection of what pony tasted like. Of what souls tasted like. Of the world, broken underneath her hooves and ashen before her maw. We’re a monster. Spike whispered softly, almost seductively in her ear.

My little star.

“I’m going to tell you something now, Twilight.”
Twilight’s gaze snapped up to meet Antaicus. This time, she didn’t flinch.

“Many people want many different things for you. Your instincts want you to be a monster, Twilight. Your mother, deep down, thinks that you could lead the world to a utopia. Your false father wants to use you as a weapon. Your grandmother wants you to burn the world simply because you can. You can do all these things, Twilight Sparkle.” Antaicus stepped forward - and extended a hand towards her.

“But what do you want to do? What do you want to be? What are you, Twilight Sparkle?”

“A good filly.”

The world shattered.

The edges of her wings melted into fire, entropy, ice, and ether. She had no flesh, fur, or skin - there was a faint outline of red energy that served as a “casing” to the nothing that she was made up of, a swirling ephemeral soup of stars and the cosmos themselves.

The stars within her form were not a representation of the cosmos. They were the cosmos.

And yet, her form was ruptured. One wing, rotten as feathers fell from its grasp - her chest, torn open and starry ichor oozing from it.

She stood before a pane of crystal, her eyes flitting back and forth rapidly. To her side - a slightly more diminutive figure, a mare in a bloodied violet dress, with eight eyes in evershifting positions.

“Your Agent is ever-surprising.” The mare in the dress spoke.

“Yes.” The creature of infinity nodded. “He has his own agenda.”

“Does he think that we are unaware?”

“No.” The infinity shook her head. “He knows that we are.”

“Do you deign to act on it?”

“No. His actions are of trivial consequence. He will stick to our instructions.”

“Yes.” The mare nodded.

“And the game will continue unimpeded,” spoke the Queen.

“Yes,” agreed the Lady in Lavender.

-

Author's Note

Behold! A discord server!

Whoops.

An unfortunate series of events lead to an unfortunate number of delays. Promises are bad, I think - but I'll just keep working.

Next chapter should probably move things along forward, instead of giving an annoying amount of questions with few answers. Probably. But isn't that part of the appeal?