The cruel monster of Everfree

I was truly nervous. No—nervous wasn’t the right word. It was more like a chill that reached deep inside, one that made my heart pound with an unfamiliar, heavy fear. Nothing like this had ever happened before. It was three in the morning, and the castle was silent, a strange and unsettling silence broken only by the hurried steps of guards who had come to find me.

I could hardly believe what they had told me. Princess Celestia... crying? The mere thought of it sounded like something out of a nightmare, a cruel impossibility. Celestia—the immortal, wise guardian of Equestria, the one who raised the sun each morning without fail. She wasn’t just a ruler. To us, she was almost divine, an untouchable force of nature. She embodied peace, wisdom, and strength.

But I knew her differently. As her student, I liked to think I understood her beyond the titles. I respected her deeply, even loved her like a second mother. And yet, I feared disappointing her more than anything. She always said she wasn’t a goddess, just another pony like me, but… how could I believe that? I admired her too much, maybe even more than I should have.

As I walked through the castle halls, the familiar walls seemed darker, the cold stone floors amplifying the nervous echo of my hooves. I felt a terrible weight growing with each step. What could possibly reduce someone like Celestia to tears? My thoughts chased each other in endless spirals of fear. Had I done something wrong? It sounded unlikely, yet the thought wouldn’t leave me. But deeper than that was a worse, scarier question: *What had happened that could shake someone like her so badly? My chest felt tight just imagining it.

Finally, I reached her chamber doors. Standing before them, I could hear it—her quiet, broken sobs, muffled but unmistakable.

"Thank Celestia you’re here," whispered one of the guards. His voice was low, tense. "The princess has been… unwell since the middle of the night. She’s been going out onto the balconies, looking into the night. At first, we thought she was searching for something. Then she told us to go to the garden and check on that weird statue close to the maze—but from a distance, not to get too close. We told her everything was the same, and that’s when she locked herself in here… and started crying."

The other guard nodded gravely. "We asked if we could come in, but she won’t respond. We thought… perhaps you could try knock her door and speaking to her, Miss Sparkle."

I could barely form a response. "You expect me to just knock and ask if I can come in?” I could hear the frustration in my voice. Behind this door was likely one of the greatest crises Equestria had faced in centuries, yet the guards insisted on formality. “Really? You want me to just… knock?”

“Protocol, Miss Sparkle,” one guard replied stiffly. “This has unsettled all of us, yes, but there are rules.”

I sighed, moving closer to the door as the guards stepped aside. I lifted my hoof, knocking gently. "Princess Celestia… it’s me, Twilight Sparkle. Your student. May I come in?"

There was no answer, only a small, broken sound from within. It twisted my heart to hear it.

"Princess," I said, my voice trembling now. "If… if this is my fault, if I did something… please tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it, I swear.” The silence stretched on, filled with nothing but quiet sobs. Celestia had never ignored me before. I was used to feeling the warmth and pride in her gaze whenever she looked at me. But now, she felt… distant. Distant and untouchable.

"Please, Princess… Celestia. Let me come in. I’m not here because you’re my ruler or my teacher… I’m here because I care about you. You’re… my friend."

For a brief, heart-stopping moment, her sobs quieted. My mind raced. Had I said something wrong? I wondered, Who was I to even call myself her friend, to put myself on the same level as her? She was…

"Come in, Twilight," Celestia’s voice came suddenly, and the door opened just enough for me to slip inside. "Please… just close the door behind you."

I entered slowly, catching a quick glance at the guards, who gave me silent nods that felt like whispered encouragements—good luck, and be brave.

I entered Celestia's chambers with quiet, hesitant steps. Though I’d been here many times before, especially when she invited me to stargaze with her, tonight the room felt… different. It was as if the warmth and gentle light that always filled this place had vanished, leaving behind an emptiness that clung to the air, thick and heavy. The room was dim, shadows stretching along the walls, and the comforting glow I’d always associated with her presence was nowhere to be found.

There was a bittersweet intimacy here—Celestia’s room had always been something of a small, endearing secret between us. We share stories under the stars or she teach me about constellations. It had always felt cozy, warm, filled with her laughter and warmth, the sort of place that glowed from within, like her heart.

Celestia barely acknowledged my presence, moving toward the balcony instead, where she stared out into the night sky. Celestia stood by her balcony, her shoulders trembled, and a quiet over broke the silence. The sound pierced right through me. This was Celestia—the Celestia who always wore a serene smile, who held us all together with her strength and wisdom. To see her like this, to see her break… it felt as though the very ground beneath my hooves was crumbling.

I followed her gaze out to the moon. At first, I didn’t notice anything unusual, but then, a shiver crept down my spine. The dark silhouette—the Mare in the Moon, as we called it—looked different somehow, its form twisted, almost... accusatory. It wasn’t facing Canterlot as it usually did. Instead, it looked toward the Everfree Forest, as though it was watching and waiting for something within those ancient woods.

“Twilight… you see it too, don’t you?” Her voice was soft and filled with a sorrow so deep it seemed to echo within me, her words a murmur of loneliness.

“Yes…” I whispered. “You mean… the Mare in the Moon?”

Celestia tensed beside me, her face contorting briefly with pain. “I can hardly bear that name,” she murmured, and her voice wavered, a crack hinting at the tears she tried so hard to hold back.

The pain in her tone was unbearable. I felt a need to reach out, to do anything to comfort her. So, before I could second-guess myself, I leaned closer, resting my head against her side, hoping she'd feel at least a little less alone.

Celestia's eyes closed as she released a sigh that seemed to carry ages of sorrow. Celestia had always been something of a mystery, her past a story only hinted at in legends and whispered rumors. Who knew what heartbreaks she’d carried, how many lifetimes of grief she’d silently endured? She’d seen generations of ponies come and go, each departure leaving her more isolated, forced to bear witness to the march of time while she remained here, ageless and steadfast. She’d raised friends, lovers, and students, only to watch each one pass, leaving her to carry on alone.

My own life—how brief it must seem to her. For Celestia, my time here would pass like a single heartbeat, a fleeting breath. But I swear to myself in that moment that I'd make this heartbeat, my life, count for her. I'd be there for her, a warm flicker against the darkness that had bound her heart for so long.

Her wing extended, curling around me, pulling me close. I felt the tremble in her body, the raw emotion she could no longer hide. She lowered her head, pressing it against me, and for the first time, I heard her truly sob. The sound was unlike anything I'd ever known—it was ancient, a grief so deep it defied words. She didn’t just cry this time—she wept, an ancient grief spilling forth in quiet, broken sobs. I could feel it, a sadness that spanned centuries, the kind that only an immortal could know. She had hidden it so well all this time, all to keep us, her ponies, from feeling her pain.

Though I knew I was just a small part of her vast life, I wanted to be a moment of warmth, a brief kindness that might ease some of her pain.

“I tried, Twilight,” she whispered between breaths, her tears warm against me. “I tried everything… but I only made it worse.”

I wanted to say something, anything, but the words refused to come. All I could do was press myself closer, my own heart aching with hers. I held her tightly, my own heart aching for her, for this sorrow that felt endless and consuming. I couldn't imagine the things she'd seen, the heartbreak she'd hardened, yet still she stood here, protecting us all, never asking anything in return. There were no words I could offer, only the hope that she would feel less alone in sharing her pain. We stayed that way, wrapped in silence, her tears falling steadily as I held her close.

She was always there for me, always there for everyone. This time, I would be here for her, in any way I could.

Finally, she took a trembling breath. “Twilight… what do you know of the Mare in the Moon?”

Caught off guard, I hesitated. “Well… it’s a bedtime story. They say she wanted to bring eternal night, and that you stopped her with the Elements of Harmony. That you… that you banished her to the moon.”

Celestia let out a melancholic chuckle, one that held no joy, only endless regret. “Yes… the legend still holds its fragments of truth,” she murmured, “but the mare in the moon wasn't just any mare. She was... she is my sister. “My dearest sister, Luna.”

Her voice broke on the name, and my heart felt as though it had been shattered with it.

Celestia’s words sank into me like a chill that reached my core. She had a sister—Luna—and not just any sister, but the very mare of legends, the “villain” in cautionary tales told to little ponies. I couldn’t believe it.

“My sister, Luna,” Celestia began, her voice a fragile murmur, “she was gentle, a soul filled with love. She wanted nothing more than to share that love, to have it returned. But while I received poems, songs, paintings… she received almost nothing. Our ponies worshiped the day, Twilight. They worshiped me. But Luna… she was barely seen, barely acknowledged.”

The sadness in her voice was like an anchor pulling us both down. I’d stayed up countless nights studying the stars, and yet… not once had I gazed at the moon, at that figure of a mare hidden in its light. Not once had I wondered what the night meant to me.

“Some ponies appreciated her, yes,” Celestia whispered, trembling. “I was her greatest admirer. But even so… she couldn’t feel the love she needed from my… our little ponies.” Her voice cracked. “No matter what I tried, no matter how I praised her night, they turned deaf ears to her beauty.”

Celestia’s eyes glistened as she looked up at the moon, her gaze distant and tortured. “Then… that day came. She rebelled. My sweet sister, twisted by resentment, by loneliness. She was so angry, Twilight. She felt abandoned and unwanted—and I don’t blame her.” Celestia lifted a trembling hoof to her chest. “She poured everything into her work, into weaving nights so breathtaking, soothe nightmares… but instead of gratitude, she received silence. Silence. And they… they gave me the credit for her peace.”

Her voice broke, and she clenched her eyes shut. “I never wanted that. I wanted her to shine. To be adored as she deserved, as I knew she deserved. I tried to remind them, to share her beauty, but the ponies turned away from her.”

I could feel Celestia’s pain, a pain that seemed to stretch back beyond ages. She continued, her words barely a whisper. “That day, she struck out, exhausted and frustrated, tired of hiding in my shadow. I could’ve done something—should have done something. But I was so afraid of her anger… so afraid of what she’d become, that I chose my crown over her.”

“Celestia… you didn’t do anything wrong,” I said softly, trying to soothe her guilt. “Your sister was hurting everypony. You had to protect us.”

But Celestia shook her head, gazing down at me with eyes filled with sorrow and regret. She gently rested her wing on my head, as if trying to comfort me even in her pain. “Twilight, one day… all kingdoms fall. They’re made, they flourish, and then they crumble to dust. My sister and I… we were meant to last longer than any kingdom. In the end, all I had was her, and she had me. There were no titles between us—no princess, no ruler, just sisters. Just love. Until… until I made the wrong choice. Until I chose duty over her. And that choice…” Her voice cracked, and she let out a sob that seemed to carry centuries of remorse. “It haunts me still.”

I had no words, no way to bridge that depth of pain. Here stood the princess I had revered my entire life, and she was breaking before me, a ruler who wished for nothing more than to be a sister.

“For nine hundred and ninety-nine years,” she continued, “my sister’s eyes watched me from the moon, a reminder, an echo of that terrible night. My fears and regrets never let me forget. Every night she has haunted my dreams, rebuked me with her silence… her silence that grew colder and more distant with each passing century.” Her voice quivered. “But tonight… tonight, she did not.”

Celestia’s wing lifted off me, leaving me feeling strangely exposed. Her eyes, wide and filled with fear, remained fixed on the moon as a deep shudder wracked her frame.

“Tonight, for the first time in a thousand years, she did not look back to me. She did not reach out… and it terrifies me.” Her voice was a ghostly whisper. “What if… she no longer sees me? What if she has turned away for good?”

A horrible realization settled over me as I watched her, and I could feel tears prickling at my own eyes. This wasn’t just the regret of a princess who had lost her sister; this was the nightmare of a pony who feared she had lost the only soul who had truly known her.

Celestia let out another broken sob, her eyes filling with fresh tears as her head hung low. I placed a gentle hoof on her back, feeling her shake beneath my touch. She was like a glass on the edge of a table, barely holding on, and all I could do was stay beside her, trying to ease the crushing weight of her sorrow.

Finally, in a voice so faint I almost missed it, she said, “Twilight… if you ever face the choice between power, wisdom, and knowledge, or love, friendship, and family—choose the love. Choose the friendship. That’s where true harmony lies. Don’t make the same mistake I did… the mistake that cost me my only sister.”

I nodded, unable to speak, my heart full of a pain I could barely comprehend. As we sat there, in the darkened silence, the warmth of Celestia’s room felt like it would never return. But in that silence, in the quiet grief we shared, I vowed to carry her words with me—to remember the love, the friendship, and the harmony she had once lost and so deeply regretted.