The Canterlot Library was a beautiful getaway from civilization. Windows to the north and east showed wavy plains, deep green forests, and faraway settlements, but it was still an isolated spot in the world where Twilight could lose herself in research.

And yet despite all the research she had done so far, nothing had come of it. Even with magic assisting her speed, nothing within the Canterlot Library had made so much of a mention of contact from another dimension. From history and theological textbooks to biological and anthropology textbooks, from scientific journals to magical grimoires, and even the fiction and fantasy sections, the visitors matching Pinkie's description were an unknown enigma in Equestria.

There were some odd spots in recent history textbooks where interdimensional visitors could have easily fit in, but it seemed almost stricken from the record. For instance, in Manehattan forty years ago, there was a record of “an unknown individual” who had led a small public protest against the Marriage Equality Decree that had just passed. He died in an episode of street violence only six moons later, though, so nopony knew a thing about him. It would be awfully convenient if it were an alien or something, but there was no other proof.

Twilight groaned in frustration and plopped her face between the pages of Fillydelphia Funeral Records 725-775 ALB. The pages smelled so refreshingly old with every nasal inhale that Twilight sighed with delight. Perhaps endless research wasn't all bad.

A pair of hands clutched her small shoulders. “Twilight,” crooned a sweet, motherly voice.

“Princess Celestia!” Twilight exclaimed, turning her face slightly to look up. Sure enough, facing her was the kind-faced princess of the sun, clad only in a very revealing and thin white one-piece that merged with the color of her dainty pearly skin.

“Keeping busy?” Celestia asked, taking one hand and tucking a bit of flowy ethereal hair behind her own pointed ears.

And the feelings of frustration and disappointment came back. “Too busy,” Twilight mourned. “I've been in here a week now, and I haven't found anything about visitors from alternate dimensions.”

Celestia's expression flickered with surprise and concern before settling on curiosity. “Twilight, what in Equestria are you talking about?”

“Pinkie Pie reported seeing someone from another dimension, and so did Applejack, and I'm not going to doubt the Element of Honesty.”

Celestia put a slightly trembling hand on the table as she maneuvered to Twilight's side. “Describe this visitor.”

Twilight tapped a few times on her open book, then stuck them out. “Mostly he looked like us, but no pony ears or tail. Blonde hair, blue eyes, peach skin. And he didn't have magic at all.”

Celestia was silent.

“What?” Twilight asked. “Is that familiar?”

Celestia wrung her hands with concern. “Twilight, come with me.”

“But the books-”

“Won't help you,” Celestia finished. “Remember what I said five years ago? You can't learn everything from books.”

Twilight sighed with resignation. And she pushed the books aside and stood up. “Then show me.”

Celestia beckoned, and Twilight followed. Celestia strode to the library doors and creaked them wide open, and Twilight plodded along behind her.

As they walked through the castle halls, Celestia kept her hand on Twilight's upper back. “You are… certain of his description?”

“Yes,” Twilight confirmed. “Do all humans look like that?”

“Not necessarily,” Celestia taught, turning at an intersection. The guards at the hallway corners stiffened at their approach. “Their features are interchangeable, but not outrageously so. We've only had a small sample of humans that have come to Equestria so far, and each of them had some slight difference– hair, skin, or eyes, they were all alike. And yet each of them was unique.”

“How many have come here again?” Twilight wondered, looking up at Celestia.

“Six,” Celestia answered. Her pearly-white fingers caressed Twilight's shoulder. “Seven, if your reports are correct. Every time, their story has been the same, right back to the first one sixty years ago. He was a man named Steven who appeared right in the center of Canterlot. He had no idea what this world was, and after some adjustment, he lived in isolation in the city until a nighttime fire claimed his life. His body was never found, though.”

“What was he there for?” Twilight asked.

“Who knows?” Celestia asked thin air, reaching for a doorknob and twisting it. Celestia ushered Twilight inside the royal chambers, and Twilight felt her heart rate spike. She'd been in here before, on less business-oriented times, to have private sessions with the princesses. Perhaps there was something significant here?

Celestia was still speaking. “This human, Steven, identified himself and said he had no idea how he got here or what he was supposed to be doing. So he stayed here in Canterlot, as a local oddity, doing nothing significant until his death. And no other human was reported seen in that time, nor for twenty years afterward. Then another came, in much the same circumstances, to Manehattan. This time, however, he had a message for us.”

“What message was that?” Twilight asked.

Celestia led Twilight to the bedside and took her hands. “Repent.” And she giggled. “Can you imagine it? Coming across dimensions just to tell us to stop. Trent, he said his name was, and his skin was black as ebony. All he talked about during his time in Manehattan was repentance. Of our pride, of our ignorance, stuff like that.”

“This was forty years ago?” Twilight clarified.

Celestia nodded.

“So this was around the time when the Marriage Equality Decree was passed,” Twilight figured out, turning away with a finger to her chin. “Perhaps that's what he was protesting about?”

“Most likely,” Celestia said, coming behind Twilight and caressing her hips. “Trent was a man who for whatever reason was disgusted with the Marriage Equality Decree and heavily protested it. It wasn't from the Goddess, he said.”

“Goddess?” Twilight repeated, turning slightly to Celestia right behind her.

“Each of the humans after Steven had that in common as well,” Celestia muttered in Twilight's ear. “They talked about God and said they were prophets. None of them actually demonstrated any kind of magical aptitude, though. Not like you, Twilight. You're special in my eyes.”

Twilight sighed with lust as Celestia kissed her deeply on the lips. It lasted only a short while before Celestia broke away and pushed her on the bed. “Is there anything else about humans you'd like to know?”

Her brain was partially clouded by lust. But Twilight cleared her throat and sat up. “Er, yes, actually. Do you have any relics from them?”

Celestia frowned, almost regrettably. But before she could speak, a deeper, more musical voice interjected.

“Not much,” was the reply from the corner, and Princess Luna emerged from around the bend, wearing nothing but skimpy white lingerie. She took her time while strutting up to Celestia and Twilight, swishing her billowing cloudy tail on the floor. “Or at least none that tell us much about their homeworld. I had been out of the loop for a thousand years, so I kept an eye on the relics my sister had gathered. They told us very little, and every human that came here has either left or died. But one human decided early on to stop talking about repentance and instead realized that our world is full of love. He came to me, begging to be mine, and I made him mine.”

“Really?” Twilight gaped as Luna approached. “You married a human once?”

“No,” Luna replied, tilting Twilight's chin up. “I made him my servant and rewarded him with sex. He wasn't much different from the other stallions I've serviced. Not at all like you, Twilight.”

She smooched Twilight on the lips and leaned back on the bed, spread-eagle.

“Well, Twilight?” Celestia crooned, running her hand up Twilight's back. “Did we answer all your questions?”

Twilight took a shuddering breath and put her knees on either side of Luna's side. “All of them for now.”

“Then study me now, I beg of you,” Luna murmured, crooking a finger.

"There's a lot I want to study about you," Twilight agreed, hooking her finger around Luna's bra strap.

But before Twilight could pull it down, there came a metallic jiggling at the locked door, followed by a rapid knocking. From behind the heavy door came a muffled voice. "Twilight! Twilight!"

Twilight recoiled. That voice was small and quiet, but unmistakable.

The brass doorknobs were covered with Twilight's magic, and the doors unlocked. Instantly, they burst open to reveal Fluttershy, panting and shaking as her head was bowed.

"Well, this is a surprise," Celestia murmured, eyeing her hungrily. "But a welcome one."

Fluttershy, however, let out a loud sob. And the mood in the room abruptly changed.

"What?" Twilight asked, clambering off Luna. "Fluttershy, what is it?"

Fluttershy staggered in, her legs trembling and her hands pawing at her cheeks. She was making noises, but no words came out.

Twilight felt a bolt of alarm course through her entire frame. She leapt off the bed entirely and came to the crying Fluttershy, cradling her on her feet.

"Hey, hey, talk to me," Twilight cooed, rubbing the small of her back. Their skins felt so warm when pressed together. "Take some breaths."

Fluttershy wiped her eyes with Twilight's hair and covered her face with her hands. "It's… bad, Twilight!"

"What?" Twilight gently repeated.

Fluttershy pointed behind her. "In Ponyville," she choked out. "I… there's…"

"What about Ponyville?" Twilight prompted, unease growing in her gut.

Fluttershy just burst into more sobbing. "Oh, Twilight," she moaned. "What's ha… ppening to us? What have we done to… deserve this?"

Twilight turned her head to the princesses in confusion. Luna and Celestia both had shocked expressions, and Celestia, after a moment, turned to the south-most window and opened the blinds with a flick of yellow magic. Twilight turned again to look outside.

In the distance was a massive pillar of smoke rising from the approximate location of Ponyville. Twilight's breath caught in her throat; even the Castle of Friendship was nowhere to be found.

"By the stars," Luna whispered in awe. She set her expression. "Fluttershy, who did this?"

Fluttershy broke off her crying to reply. "A monster!" She took several deep breaths. "He was… wearing one of Zecora's masks, and… he killed my bear! He's wearing him as a coat! And he killed Angel! I saw his head get… Oh, Twilight!" And her crying redoubled.

Twilight, shocked, could only numbly pat her friend reassuringly on the back. Could it be…

“Fluttershy,” Celestia quietly but firmly ordered. “I need you to tell me everything you know about this monster. What did he look like? What did he say?”

Fluttershy didn't answer immediately. Her nose was too clogged to speak. But her tears had gone dry now, and she haltingly spoke. “H-he… he w-was like us. But n… no tail. He told us to r… r-repent, and he started just… shooting!”

No.

It couldn't be!

All three princesses gave each other stupefied, gobsmacked looks while Fluttershy kept clutching to Twilight. While this all processed, Twilight's mind went into overdrive. Her panic was only held back by her shock and drive to be strong for Fluttershy.

Finally, the residual fury locked inside Twilight leaked out, stiffening her posture.

“Fluttershy,” Twilight said, resolute and quiet. “Take me to him.”

“What?!” Fluttershy exclaimed, jolting out of Twilight's grip. “M-m-me? Go back?! I, I, uh…”

“Fine,” Twilight relented. “Where is he? Did he leave Ponyville?”

“N-n-not that I can remember,” Fluttershy got out. “Are you going to kill him, Twilight?”

“If I have to,” Twilight vowed. “Ponyville was almost destroyed recently by Tirek. And now this monster's finished the job. I can't afford to hold back.”

“There's a spare regiment of soldiers in the barracks,” Celestia revealed, all previous signs of lust gone and replaced with dread authority. “If nothing else, they'll be needed to restore order to what's left.”

“Fine,” Twilight allowed, heading for the open window. The mass of billowing smoke in the distance didn't entirely conceal the flickers of faraway residual flame. “Tell them to be ready on the double. Where's the survivors?”

“I-I'm not sure,” Fluttershy stammered, plopping down on the bed. “I left right as he was busy destroying y… your… Oh, no, Twilight, he destroyed your castle!”

Twilight's hands balled into tight fists, which slammed on the windowpane. Her stare towards the distant enemy was as hot as the fires he had set. So the last remnants of the Golden Oak Library were gone now.

Twilight would rain hell upon the Prophet for that.

On a tree stump on a hill outside Ponyville's smoldering remains, Peter sat and numbly oversaw his work.

The fiery perimeter of Ponyville's ruins had disappeared, allowing a small percentage of ponies– including plenty of named ponies, oddly enough– to escape onto the plains near Sweet Apple Acres, which he could see from here. There was an enormous resettlement program underway on those fields, likely overseen by Applejack and the rest of the Apple family. Rainbow, Rarity, and Pinkie were probably getting treated for their wounds by Nurse Redheart, or something. And Fluttershy…

Well, he knew Fluttershy had flown to Canterlot. He had seen her from the open ruins of Twilight's castle after he emerged from it. The princesses would come, or an army.

Peter bowed his head again, grasping his sweaty face with his cool hands. Once more, he was just a nervous college kid, in way too deep over his head in all this. An army! Because of his actions, provoked by his words! As the Prophet, he was uncaring, ruthless, determined to finish it quickly, so that he could get it all over with, because at his core, he was still just a guy! He didn't want this, he didn't want to even come here in the first place. Righting the world's wrongs sounded good in theory, but then doing the dirty work yourself…

Peter popped his knuckles, and it reminded him eerily of the snapping of Flutter Gust's neck. His stomach began to churn again, and he clenched it.

“Hurts,” he mumbled. “Faust?”

Oh, if the ponies could see me now, talking to my invisible friend, my imaginary buddy that they couldn't see! “There's a word for people with your condition,” they'd say. Murdering and muttering to yourself.

Peter growled at those thoughts and shook his head. That didn't come from Faust. Or God, or wherever. What, was he going to doubt his faith before he doubted his doubts?

“God?” he muttered, clasping his hands while his head was still bowed. “Is this really what you wanted? Did I really do a good job? I'm just… now that I've actually done it, I'm unsure. Could I have handled things differently?”

He paused and reflected on his actions. How else could he have said it to Ponyville? This particular world was almost cartoonishly evil– a caricature, that's what Faust had called it. Exaggerated. Fake. What if… this entire world he was in was just the product of someone else's awful mind? And because someone else had thought of it, it was now an alternate dimension, complete with its own God and its own destiny. The only reason this world existed was perhaps solely because of the disgusting mind of another person.

It was an intriguing thought. Peter's thoughts began to drift back to the simulation theory. Perhaps it truly was all just a test. But there were so many loose ends with how on earth he was put into the hypothetical simulation that he just discarded it.

Or, perhaps, out of the infinite multiverse, I happened to come to the boonies. Figures.

“Peter.”

Peter looked up. No one was there. But he heard his mother nonetheless.

“Faust,” Peter said into thin air uneasily. “If I'm not going mad, that is.”

“Nothing I can say will assure you,” Faust acknowledged. Her voice was in his head as clearly as if she was in person. “Do you believe it's me, though?”

Peter sighed and slumped. “Yes,” he relented.

“You've done well, Peter. I'm glad you had the stomach to do this; it's a very hard thing for righteous men to kill.”

“Kill,” he repeated, hollow. “I know that I… was determined before, but it hits differently afterward. Those deaths, those fires, my words… I can't undo it. I've set in motion things that can't be undone.”

“Yes,” Faust answered. “And so I urge you to commit fully to your choice; do not look back once you are set to the plow.”

Peter's throat hurt as he looked steadfastly down; Ponyville's ruins were awful to look upon.

If Peter did commit to his decision– which he was going to do; it wouldn't work out if he decided to stop– then how many times would these atrocities repeat? Would Peter be able to retain his identity, his sanity?

“I will do such terrible things,” he mourned, clenching the fur of his pants.

“And they will still not recognize their sins for what they are,” Faust mourned as well. “I will have a humble people, and since they did not choose to be humble, they must be compelled to be humble.”

“But by doing this, we aren't making it any better!” Peter objected, shooting up to a standing position. “They'll just hate us, they won't listen to us. Why should they? Shouldn't we be, I dunno… Once they see what I can do here, they should be more willing to listen.”

“I already told you, Peter, I'm not prioritizing that right now. If they are willing to repent, then I shall welcome them, but they were slow to remember me, so I shall be slow to remember them. My true biggest concern is the gift of life, and how it begins and ends, so I have placed strict limits on how ponykind uses the divine power of creation. And they squander it on fool's errands.”

“Yeah, I know,” Peter groaned. “But even the children? Faust, I killed foals. Fillies. Who does that– what servant of God does that?”

“Equestria massacred its own young for decades before I brought you here. Millions of innocent children every year, inside and outside the womb, dead at the hands of their own parents. Where's their pile of shoes, their museums and memorials, their sacred sites? Millions of voices are begging me to avenge their blood, Peter, and I will not delay judgment any longer. Perhaps through devastation, fathers and mothers will rediscover the value of life and the importance of their legacy.”

Peter was stunned into silence. Never before had Faust spoken so fervently about anything.

After some silence, Faust picked up. “Don't single children out, of course. Though children are brought back into my glory– since their agency hasn't fully been developed yet– if you target children because it's fun, I will make you wish you had drowned in the sea.”

The authority in her words made Peter go stiff as a ramrod, even though he had no intention of harming them in the first place. “Yes, mom. I mean… Guh.” His legs suddenly trembling, he plopped back down on his stump, wiping his face. “So it's maintaining a balance, then?”

“Don't hunt specific ponies down. This job isn't so you can have fun, and it's not even to slay ponies indiscriminately; as I said, if I wanted to destroy the world, I could easily do so. Your purpose is to bring to the world remembrance and repentance through fire and war.”

“That still doesn't make any sense!” Peter objected.

“It will come to you in time. Some things must be learned from experience.”

Experience. With killing. Peter snorted at the thought.

“You'll have company soon. Twilight is coming. And she is the one you must pay the most attention to.”

What on earth did that mean? Obviously Faust wouldn't explain it right now; experience, and all that.

“Do I have to fight her?” Peter whispered.

“No. Let her know that you don't want to fight. If she presses you, escape, and I'll give you instructions from there.”

Peter grunted to acknowledge it. He lifted his head to the mountain in the faraway skies. Through the smoke and in the distance, Peter could see tiny specks, like flies, buzzing around Canterlot Castle.

Peter stretched out his legs; they had grown stiff. He squared his shoulders and relaxed them, flicking his hands. “All right, Twilight. Let's talk. Done enough killing for today anyway.”

And upon saying it, the more he remembered every detailed and estimated death, the worse his stomach churned.

The spa sisters. Mayor Mare. Bulk Biceps. Flitter Gust. Hundreds who had taken refuge in Twilight's castle, and inestimable others killed by the wildfires. Their lives permanently being stamped out was one thing. The fact that it was all because of him was another.

He wasn't about to beg for apologies from the survivors. Neither was he going to renounce his service to Faust. But that just made Peter feel more alone than ever before.

Author's Note

One reviewer said Peter came across like a psychopath in the making. Does he really? Sure hope not.