"Perfect." Twilight had said and heard the words many times since her ascendency to the Equestrian Throne. Over a century prior, she and her best friends had saved the day and secured Equestria's future. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna retired at long last, and Twilight was entrusted to lead Equestria in their stead. She'd certainly earned it. All she'd been through, all she'd done, none of it would've been possible without her best friends by her side. Of course, time cares not for friendship. One by one they fell to the endless march of time, but not a day went by where Twilight did not think of and mourn her lost friends. While they'd had families that she kept in touch with, it just wasn't the same. Regardless, it didn't keep her from her royal duties. From the grandest of schemes to the tiniest of inconveniences, Twilight was always hooves-on when it came to solving a problem. Canterlot Castle had received some renovations since she took power (everypony has their own style, after all) and from there, Twilight could see practically all that the light touched. All of it, hers to protect. As one had said...
"Perfect."
One hundred and fifteen years had passed by, every day an adventure. How often would one of her countless students make a breakthrough in Magic studies? Or a new species would be discovered that could revolutionise something or other? Or, as came with the territory, what evil would arise to threaten her people and world that she would try her hardest to change and redeem? As she slept the night before the 115th Anniversary of the Coronation of Princess Twilight Sparkle, a rolling storm appeared from seemingly nowhere. It passed in mere minutes, leading many to believe it had simply "slipped the net" of the vigilant weather-wardens of Equestria. That's okay, everypony makes mistakes. But that particular night, in her aetheric dreams, she heard something she'd never heard before... a voice, defiant and fuelled with anger. It said only one word.
"Perfect." Unlike the many other times she'd heard the word, this reiteration was seemingly vitriolic and mocking. Suddenly, another voice.
"Perfect." Distinctly different than the last one, but having the same dialect. Still male, still... Trottingham, maybe. Perhaps old Canterlot. It was hard to tell, given the world. Then...
"Perfect." Once more, yet again different yet similar. Each one was dripping with resentment, as if the word was a curse being spoken upon their worst enemy. The rest of her dreams that night were... nothing. As if she were conscious, but nothing could be perceived. Endless, inky blackness occupied her head until she awoke.
Perturbed but unmoved by her dreams, Twilight prepared for that day's celebrations. She made her way to the Royal Throne Room to practice her part (not that she needed to, but she always liked to be thorough) in the celebrations, listing off everything that needed to be done to herself and the students following her.
"Princess?" One of her students spoke up.
"Yes?" Twilight responded, serene as ever.
"What's that on the throne?" The student pointed her hoof towards Twilight's lone throne. Sparkle swiftly saw what the Filly was pointing at, and approached for a closer look. An object was impaled into the seat of the throne - it was a sword. The blade was facing outwards, towards Twilight, and was made of a kind of metal she did not recognise. The hilt was seemingly fashioned from wood, but the type of wood was also alien to the Princess. This was unprecedented - how can this blade have gotten here? What were these materials? How did none of her guards see this happen? The shape of the blade was odd - it was somewhat squared but the tip was hidden by way of being stuck in the chair. Twilight tried to lift it out with her Magic, but the blade did not budge. She tried harder, and it did not move even an inch. She called her guards and students to help, but nopony could make the sword so much as shudder. It was not only stuck in the chair, it was as if it was stuck in space and time. That's when Twilight noticed the blade had something on it. Runes of some kind - three of them. While this was of course disturbing, Twilight couldn't help but feel giddy. A new mystery! She felt compelled to solve it as soon as possible, to find out what these runes read at least. She had her students and guards bring her every book relating to runic Magic from the Canterlot Library, and aid her in uncovering the meanings.
Two hours and dozens of books later, nothing was helping. A little frustrated, Twilight told her people to bring her any book relating to Magic used in language.
Four hours, many more books, no closer to finding the solution. Twilight demanded her subjects bring her all books relating to Magic.
Twelve hours, too many books to even have in the enormous Throne Room. The celebrations for the Anniversary of her Coronation had been missed, with the Princess herself never turning up. But Twilight didn't care, she just had to figure out what these runes were. The sword sat there, almost mockingly, as she screamed for those around her to bring her every book.
An entire week had passed. Books were being brought in from all over Equestria, with Twilight ordering her subordinates to read each and every one until an explanation for this sword and it's runes to be found. Her students tried to talk her out of it, but she just snapped that they clearly did not care about Magic and thus did not care about Equestria, and should probably leave. More than a few foals left the room crying, only to begrudgingly return later to continue helping. The castle servants had begun ferrying food to the conscripted scholars, with even random civilians being told to come and help the Princess on her ever-important quest to find the truth. As her anger grew, Twilight started tearing read books to shreds with her Magic as punishment for not helping her, destroying centuries of history in mere days.
A month had gone by. Many of her subjects had declared her insane, and abandoned her. Worse still, the problems she would usually be tending to were now going unchecked. Evils were rising left and right, beasts were raiding undefended Ponies, political unrest was skyrocketing, and any who tried to take control faced internal struggles. The cycle of day and night was going unchecked, leaving the entire planet in perpetual twilight. But the absolute worst part, the ABSOLUTE worst... the runes were untranslated! What were they? A prank? A curse? A symbol of her eagerness to unravel any mystery? No, they were MOCKING her! HER! Princess Twilight Sparkle, the most beloved ruler of all Equestrian history! How DARE this blade mock her! She would NOT be defeated!
The world collapsed into anarchy and loss as anyone else tried to pick up the pieces. Countless Ponies suffered and perished while Twilight read her dwindling reserve of books, even books that were unrelated to the problem to the untrained eye. How could a book about apple recipes be of any use in regards to translating runes on a mysterious sword? Twilight was not going to let the chance slip by, and insisted and reading all of them over and over and over and over and over and over...
Years? Decades? Centuries. It was all gone. But the books; they never left. At least, the ones she didn't destroy. The sword itself remained. Mocking, of course it was mocking. If it had a tongue it'd be sticking it out. If it had flanks, it'd be waving them in Twilight's face. If it had a neck, she would wring it. She sat there, staring at it dead on. The runes catching her eye. The shine on the blade reflecting her face in ways that shouldn't be possible, giving her a view of the entire room. She caught a glimpse of the outside. The air was thick with ash, every window broken, every building wrecked, every Pony dead for ages now. She could feel it. It felt odd, being alone. But she'd felt it for a while. Was there regret? Perhaps her students had been right, maybe this sword was meaningless. Maybe it wasn't even real. Was she mad? Whispers... whispers everywhere. They whisper everything, except what she wants to hear. They were driving her insane, her insanity massing as anger within her soul. She built up her Magic, focusing it into her horn and gritting her teeth as her breathing intensified. Finally, in a final snap, she screamed so loud that the dead would dare rise, with a shockwave of Magic so powerful it obliterated everything around her. The walls, the roof, the books, Mount Canter itself... but not the sword. Still it sat, defiant. Unmoved. Twilight sat there in front of it, contemplating. Then... a single tear rolled from her face, landing on the damaged floor beneath her head. A crack formed from the base of the sword and shot towards the tear, consuming it. Twilight looked up in shock as the runes began to glow.
"BETRAYED"
"FORGOTTEN"
"ABANDONED"
The words were clear! They always were! Betrayed, Forgotten, Abandoned, of COURSE! How could she have not seen it all along? The runes, they were in her own language but... why, why could she not see them? Why wait until now? Did the sword know she was broken, and change the rules to give her help? No, stupid. Swords aren't alive. Are they? Can they? Is it?
"Hello?" She asked the sword. The runes stopped glowing. "Wait! WAIT! Wh-who?! Who was betrayed, who was forgotten, who was abandoned?! PLEASE!" The sword was still again. But now it felt... somehow more still than it had been. Everything did. Twilight blinked and the world changed. Suddenly she was surrounded by a swirling red fog, the ground below her turned to glass-laden sand, the skies above choked with black clouds. "Hello?!" She cried out into the whistling deserts, the sword nowhere to be found. Her only companion had left her. "HELLO?!" She shouted louder. Suddenly she heard it; hoofsteps. She turned to see the cause to her left. There stood the unmistakable shape of a Pony, barely visible in the fog. There was something on his back. It was long, squared, with a wooden end in a leather sheath. The sword had found a new friend... or had it gone back to it's owner. She looked the figure in the eye, and saw glowing gold irises looking back at her.
The illusion was lifted. He was back in his tent, woken from his slumber by the nightmare. He rose to his hooves and made his way outside, lifting his sheathed sword onto his back with his Magic and standing out in the moonlight. He looked up, seeing the infinite abyss of stars.
"I won't let that happen."
