Poor, Poor Starlight Glimmer.
As soon as the words cleared through the fog of Starlight’s buzzing mind, her bones screamed. A searing cold flame had ignited beneath her coat in a nanosecond, a passionate rejection of the spell she’d just cast, and of everything within her. The pain had pulled all the strength out from her body and forced her to collapse into the snow instantly.
She didn’t scream though, regardless of how sudden or how violent it was; It was instinctual to her that she didn’t. She’d caught it lurching up from her gut and locked it tight inside her throat before she even knew it was there.
She had just been so focused. Not even this had managed to pull her out.
Don’t let it get to you.
The pain wasn’t dissuaded by that though. It stayed inside of her, electric. And as it lingered, burning its way across the bridge from her body to her mind, it was difficult to keep up the resistance. Biting her lip, an agonized groan emerged from somewhere within her throat she hadn’t even known of. And she hated herself for it.
She’s still trying to prove herself, even now.
Strangled vocalizations desperately clawed their way out of her, and she buried the side of her face hard into the freezing wet snow as if it could offer some kind of relief. She shut her eyes for a brief moment, but opened them again with a promise to herself to stay in the moment. If she got lost in the pain, she wouldn't be able to fight it.
Focus.
Shame it’s all for nothing.
And her mentor isn’t even here to appreciate the effort.
For the second time, she poured all of her magic into her horn. She had to ignore the lies snaking around her skull, prone to tighten at any unsuspecting second.
But it was so hard.
Starlight Glimmer has already given it her all. She doesn’t have anything left to give.
No.
She had more, she must have.
She always did.
Her head boiled. Splitting, gnawing.
Her ears rang until she could barely hear her own voice, but she didn’t stop gathering her magic.
She’s killed herself already. It's pointless. And she knows that, in her core.
“...Shut up.”
She’d intended for it to sound so much more powerful. To use her commanding voice, the one she’d used to keep ponies in line when she was the villain. A roar. But all she’d managed was a groan instead. Weak. Blending in with every other pitiful sound rising from within her.
Starlight Glimmer is a miserable and pathetic creature.
“Shut it…” Another failed attempt at intimidation, but she’d had to say something. Had to reject it as much as she could, had to face it and deny it. Otherwise it could trap her.
Well, she could at least say that had been pretty easy thus far. These ideas meant nothing to her, a desperate excuse at villany. Poking at perceived insecurities that were obviously going to be irrational. Why would you ever listen to a monster?
If anything, she just hated the way it spoke.
Stubborn.
Reckless.
Stupid.
Inside of her.
No voice. No sound. No inflection, personality. No origin. No intention seeping in through the delivery. It was only the words. Just meaning.
The fog was getting thicker now. That, or the effort she was putting into her spell was fogging her vision. It was impossible to tell.
Starlight Glimmer, stupidly pouring all of her effort into a lost cause.
Of course.
Where?
Where is it?
If she could at least get that answered, this would all be so much simpler.
If she could just see the damn thing, she could scrutinize over every disgusting detail. She could direct all of her anger, all of her disgust and determination toward it. And when she fired her magic at it, she’d at least know where to aim.
But it gave her none of that.
She’d come all the way out here, alone, so it would show itself. Become impossible to ignore. So she could find it, get rid of it. But all she’d found was more of its incessant ramblings.
Her, and the crunching snow, and this fog.
Snow that snuffed out every sound, fog that obscured every sight.
Cold.
And herself.
Of course,
came the words again, only they weren’t really words either.
Words were too selective, too personified. This was understanding.
Of course this would be the fate of Starlight Glimmer.
How perfectly suited for a pony such as her.
If she wasn’t careful, it could convince her that she was only listening to her own brain talking.
A big problem, that.
That was probably how it managed to trick so many ponies before her.
But Starlight knew it was the monster. She had that advantage. And that’s why it wasn’t going to beat her.
Part of the reason she could differentiate between the two, herself and this thing, was because she had never felt these things before. These weren’t the kinds of things she would think. Not exactly, anyway. Not to this ridiculous extreme.
She was a living, thinking, feeling being, just like everyone else; She had her weak moments.
She had her guilt.
She had her doubts.
She had her fear.
But it wasn’t this.
She knew the places that existed in her mind. She knew what it felt like walking through those woods, the way the mud ran up her legs. To sink in them.
This wasn’t anywhere she’d ever been.
Alone.
Ever stupid.
Utterly unsuccessful--
Like the shattering of an overfilled glass bottle, Starlight blasted all of her pent up magic into the space surrounding her. Out, away, and farther away, to reach something, somewhere, wherever it was, right here. But it happened again. She didn’t know if it was her own magic reflected back at her, or if the monster was retaliating on its own. Either way, it hurt like the deepest layer of Tartarus.
And useless.
This time, Starlight screamed.
She managed to bite it back inside her once she realized she was doing it. Determined not to give it the satisfaction. But the pain was even angrier now. Pulsating.
At the very least, it reassured her that she wasn’t crazy. It assured her that there really was a monster here, somewhere, inside of her, tormenting her. That she wasn’t doing this to herself, that she was fighting something far bigger than herself.
Just like Twilight had told her.
“Starlight, please,” the exact words from the conversation involuntarily flooded back into her mind, “You’re right, I don’t have any clue what it is you're dealing with. But I can tell you it's not something you have to deal with on your own. It's not your fault you're hurting. It's not your fault you need help. It isn’t a weakness. I’ve had to learn that lesson over and over. So I’ll say this again. Let me help you.”
If this thing had infected anyone else, they’d already be dead. But this time it chose Starlight. And Starlight wasn’t going to put her friends or anyone else at risk by dragging them into this. She didn’t need to. She was powerful. She was smart.
She could handle it.
A Tragedy.
A colossal waste of Twilight Sparkle’s precious time.
All of it down the drain because of something as foalish as pride.
Of course.
“S-Stop saying that” - Focus on your words, not theirs - “Stop saying of course.”
Of course she would fuck everything up at the earliest opportunity.
“Stop it--”
Of course such a pitiful attempt at self-betterment would result in something so naive,
So stupid and vein.
“I’m not--”
And of course she would refuse to recognize the mistake until she was face to face with it.
“STOP TALKING!” Starlight screamed. Actually screamed this time, all of the effort she’d been putting into her spells going into her voice instead. “I won’t believe anything you put in my head. I won’t.” Because Starlight knew better than that. And she wasn’t going to give in.
She knows.
She knows,
she knows, she knows.
Gather all the magic again. Ignore it, it’s wrong. Everything it says is a lie. It’s designed to weaken you. You’re better than that. Twilight taught you better than that. You’re better. It has nothing of value to offer you. Everything is a trick. Ignore it.
She knows
Twilight
Sparkle
Does not
Love her.
Of course she does.
You can see the pride in her smile.
You saw it in the way she lit up when you refused your graduation because she didn’t want to let you go. You are her pride and joy and friend, and Twilight is yours.
Twilight loves you, so you can’t lose. Twilight loves you, so you have to beat it.
You can. You will.
When Starlight Glimmer dies today,
No one will be surprised.
“Starlight?”
Something else was here.
A voice had protruded from somewhere outside Starlight’s whirling mind. Something other than her. Something other than it. Something real.
“I don’t think she deserves to die,”
All of her accumulating magic fizzled out.
It couldn’t have been. It wasn’t.
“Nopony really does. It’s just, if she did die, I’d be kind of relieved.”
She was there, but… where?
There was so much fog.
She couldn’t see the sky, she couldn’t see the snow, she could barely make out the trees anymore.
…Had there been trees?
And what was Twilight talking about?
“It’s not like I’m not proud of everything she’s accomplished, I really am. She’s made so much progress with my guidance. And that’s a great feeling.”
“Twilight!”
She was there. Her voice was so vivid, so present, the clearest most certain feeling she’d ever felt in her whole life.
But where?
She couldn’t attach any sense of direction to it.
And the fog, it was so, so thick.
“Twi--” Exhaustion interrupted her, her throat was on fire, but she kept trying. It was the most important thing in the world. “T-Twilight, I’m here!”
She had to get help.
She couldn’t do this alone, it was stupid of her.
She should have listened to Twilight, Twilight was always right.
Twilight could get her out of here.
And she needed to make it up to her.
“Twilight,” She couldn’t tell if the cold wetness on her cheeks were from tears or snow, “Twilight, I’m sorry…. Please, forgive me. I was stupid…”
“But I don’t know if I can say that I really trust her either,” Twilight carried on, completely oblivious to Starlight’s voice.
It was such a strange tone that she was speaking in, one that Starlight didn’t particularly recognize from her. It was so soft and free, like to say the words was an act as simple and inconsequential as breathing.
“After everything she did? Not to mention all of the power she has? I’d be lying if I said she didn’t still scare me at least a little bit.” A nervous tremor in her voice, like she felt guilty for it all of the sudden.
No…
It wasn’t really Twilight, was it? She’d never say that.
It was her voice, yes, but that couldn’t have been Twilight.
A changeling?
…No.
No, no, no.
Whatever it was, whoever it was or wasn’t, that was Twilight’s voice.
It wasn’t an impression.
It was too careless. Too sloppy.
Too perfect.
No, better than a changeling. Each word, all the little intricacies of her accent. If it had been an impersonator, they must have known every little thing that made Twilight who she was without even thinking about it. All of the seemingly inconsequential background that goes into every meticulously chosen word. Far better than Starlight knew her. It was too free, too… perfect.
It wasn’t Twilight. But that was her voice.
And it was real. It was perfect.
In fact, it was even more perfect at being Twilight then Twilight herself was.
Truer. Unfiltered, untouched.
Amazing.
But why? What was it?
It couldn’t have been the monster. It didn’t talk like that, with words, a voice.
Outside.
It didn’t do outside, it only did inside. That was its thing. It didn’t exist outside.
“If an accident happened…” And then Twilight’s voice was there, right there, outside, somewhere in the real world, somewhere outside of Starlight’s head. There had been no other sound to block it out, the snow had silenced everything to death, and then Twilight spoke.
Or at least, something spoke for Twilight.
It was the only thing here.
“I guess that would be pretty relieving. Not having to keep her under control anymore.”
A sadness panged at her voice. The voice. The more perfect voice.
Of course
It’s the poor mare’s anxiety.
Starlight Glimmer riddles her with it.
She doesn’t make it easy for her.
Maybe… No, it must have been the monster after all.
Nothing else was out here with them, so that had to be it.
It was Starlight and the monster. That was it.
Never one to take accountability, is she?
Starlight Glimmer
So petty.
“She… She isn’t here,” Starlight told herself out loud. She needed to say it out loud in order to keep herself believing it. That the whole thing was a trick. That it was just the monster. That Twilight couldn’t possibly be here, that it wasn’t anything like Twilight, whatever it was. It wasn’t perfect or amazing.
It was fake.
It was wrong.
Well of course it isn’t her.
Why would Twilight come all the way out here
For Starlight Glimmer?
This was always going to be her fate.
Twilight Sparkle shouldn’t have to waste any more time on her.
And besides, she would never say those things about her.
No.
No, she would never say those things.
Not to anyone.
Never out loud.
Maybe not even to herself
No, of course not.
But that doesn’t matter, does it?
Because Starlight Glimmer
knows.
“When Starlight’s gone, I’ll finally be able to take a deep breath.”
She knows.
She knows.
She knows.
She sees passed it.
Of course she would.
“I’ll finally be rid of that weight on my shoulders.”
Starlight Glimmer is powerful. Smart.
She always was the exception to the rule.
Of course she would know.
Starlight Glimmer
can hear it.
“There wouldn’t be so much pressure on me to make her good, keep her there. I wouldn’t have to feel like a beast keeper anymore. Of course I would never get rid of her myself, but if an accident were to happen--”
“It isn’t real, it isn’t her,” Starlight barely managed to breathe. “It isn’t real, no part of it is real.”
Does it have to be real?
Does she really have to say it?
“She’s not thinking that.”
Starlight knows the truth.
“It’s all fake.”
It's all the same either way.
Because Twilight Sparkle would
Never say those things.
Kill it.
Focus.
Destroy it.
Stupid Starlight Glimmer
She wanted to protect everypony.
Stubborn, selfish.
She couldn’t bear the idea that it could infect anyone else.
She had to end it, end it before it got any worse, hurt anyone else.
That’s why she’d come here.
All alone.
Of course she’s alone.
Starlight Glimmer
Alone
Alone
Alone
Alone
“You were right, Twilight,” She muttered, the pain settling in her stomach. Twilight wasn’t here, couldn’t hear a word she said, but she needed to tell her anyway. “Nopony can defeat this thing by themself... I should have believed you. I should have… told you what was happening to me. I just didn’t… want it to hurt you.”
Failure
Always a failure
Of course
“I screwed up, Twilight… I screwed up and I know you’re gonna hate me for this.”
A different spell.
The one Trixie told her about, the one she forbade her to learn.
But of course she did.
So stupid, so naive
“But I know what I have to do now. It’s the only thing I can do to destroy it.”
You’ll protect them this way. This is the only way.
Of course she would turn out this way.
A pity.
“Twilight, I’m sorry. I failed you. I failed everyone. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
