Chapters Twilight Sparkle laughed maniacally as the guards dragged her to a dark cell beneath the earth. Her voice echoed off the cold, unyielding stone walls. Celestia, Luna, and Cadence trailed not far behind, their expressions a mixture of sorrow and determination. Twilight twisted her head back to glare at them, her wild eyes glinting in the dim torchlight.
“I’ll be back! I’ll be back, and I’ll know so much more!” she screamed, her voice cracking with unrestrained fury.
When they reached her cell, the guards stepped aside, their armor clinking as they moved. The door to the cell was ominous—a heavy slab of enchanted metal with Twilight’s cutie mark engraved upon it. The symbol seemed to mock her, a reminder of what she had once been.
“You won’t break me!” she hissed as the door creaked open.
Inside, the room was pitch black, save for the faint glow of runes etched into the walls. A magic-dampening ring was secured tightly around her horn, and chains slithered out from the walls, binding her wings, legs, and neck. Each link hummed with an ancient spell, ensuring her immobility.
Cadence stepped forward, tears streaming down her face. “Twilight… please, come back to us, sister.”
Luna nodded solemnly, her midnight-blue mane rippling as if caught in a nonexistent breeze. “There is still hope for redemption.”
Celestia, however, stood unmoving, her face a mask of stoic resolve. She regarded her former student with an inscrutable gaze. “Twilight, I hope you see the error in your ways and return to the light.”
Twilight’s laughter rang out again, a sound devoid of joy and filled with madness. “Return to you? Fat chance! I’ve seen through your lies, Celestia! You’re mad I’m no longer your puppet! I cut the strings, Celestia! I cut the strings!”
Luna opened her mouth to speak, but Celestia raised a hoof, silencing her. Her voice was steady as she spoke the final words of sentencing. “Fine then. For 10,000 years, you will be locked here. You will receive no visitors. You will get no food or water. You will not be able to move, see, or hear. Complete isolation.”
Cadence choked back a sob as Twilight’s maniacal laughter turned to screams of defiance. “You won’t break me! YOU WON’T!!!!”
The door shut with a resounding clang, cutting off all sound from within. Luna sighed deeply and placed a comforting hoof on Cadence’s shoulder, guiding her away. Celestia remained, staring at the door with Twilight’s cutie mark gleaming faintly in the dim light.
“Goodbye, my dearest student,” she whispered. “We will meet again.”
100 Years Later
Twilight sat in silence. She didn’t know how long it had been since she had last spoken, or moved, or even thought clearly. Time had lost all meaning. Her body ached from the hunger that gnawed relentlessly at her, but even that pain had dulled to a hollow ache over the decades.
“Celestia won’t break me. Celestia won’t break me,” she whispered to herself, her voice raspy from disuse. It had become a mantra, a lifeline in the endless void of her confinement. Her mane hung in tangled clumps around her face, and her eyes stared blankly into the darkness.
How many times had she repeated those words? A hundred? A thousand? Perhaps more. She no longer knew, and perhaps she no longer cared. The hunger and isolation clawed at her mind, but she clung to her hatred like a shield. It was the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.
1,000 Years Later
Twilight screamed.
Her voice echoed endlessly in the black abyss of her cell. She didn’t know how long she had been screaming, but she refused to stop. The silence pressed down on her, suffocating and unrelenting. If she allowed it to consume her, she feared she would lose herself entirely.
“I’LL KILL YOU, CELESTIA!!” she shrieked, her voice raw and broken.
There was no response, as there had never been. The silence mocked her, unyielding in its indifference. No matter. She would persist. She would never stop hating. Hatred was all she had left, and she would cling to it with every shred of her being.
10,000 Years Later
“I believe it is time to release her, sister,” Luna said softly, her voice tinged with trepidation. She stood beside Celestia, her eyes filled with worry.
Celestia nodded, though her expression was unreadable. Her student had done her time. Ten thousand years of isolation. It was a sentence beyond comprehension, even for alicorns. Together, they descended into the forgotten depths of the dungeon.
The air was heavy with the weight of centuries, the stone walls damp and covered in moss. Finally, they reached the door. It was ancient, its once-bright surface dulled with age and overgrown with vines. Yet the sparkle insignia remained visible, a haunting reminder of what lay within.
Celestia hesitated for a moment before using her magic to unlock the door. The ancient mechanisms groaned in protest as the door creaked open. The sight that greeted them made Luna gag and stumble backward, her hoof flying to her mouth.
Twilight Sparkle stood, if one could call it that. Her emaciated form was a shadow of its former self, her bones jutting out beneath her withered coat. Her mane hung in filthy, matted strands, and her horn had grown twisted and jagged from centuries of neglect. Her wings were little more than skeletal remnants, the feathers long since fallen away.
Her eyes were the worst. They were vast, empty voids, devoid of light or recognition. They stared ahead blankly, as if she were looking through them rather than with them. Her lips parted slightly, as though she were about to speak, but no sound came out.
Celestia stepped forward and gently removed the chains that bound Twilight to the room. Her frail body crumpled to the floor, unable to support her own weight.
“T-Tia,” Luna whispered, her voice trembling. She turned away, unable to look any longer. “I need… I need a moment.” She hurried off, retching as she went.
Celestia lowered herself to the floor, her magic cradling Twilight’s broken form. She was so cold, so light, as if her body might disintegrate at any moment. Tears welled in Celestia’s eyes as she tried to find a trace of the mare she had once loved like a daughter.
“What have I done?” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her guilt.
Twilight’s head lolled slightly, and her hoof twitched as if reaching for something. Her lips moved again, forming silent words that never came. Celestia held her closer, as if her warmth alone could undo the horrors of the past ten millennia.
But it was too late. Twilight Sparkle was gone, and in her place was something hollow, something irreparably broken. Celestia’s tears fell freely as she whispered over and over again, “I’m sorry.”
Celestia kept Twilight in her quarters as she recovered. Well, "recovered" was a strong word. Twilight would probably never be the same. She sat quietly on a pillow on the floor, staring at nothing. Celestia spoke to her often, but Twilight never responded. Occasionally, she would look up, her gaze hollow, as if she were looking past Celestia rather than at her. It was clear she wasn’t truly present, but Celestia continued to try.
“Twilight, please listen to me,” Celestia pleaded softly one evening. She sat close to her former student, her heart aching as she watched the broken alicorn. Twilight looked up at her, but her expression remained blank, her eyes unfocused. Celestia sighed, fighting the growing despair in her chest.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. “Sister? Are you in there?” Luna’s voice called from the hallway.
“Yes, Luna. I’m trying to... help Twilight,” Celestia replied.
Luna entered cautiously, her gaze immediately falling on Twilight. The sight still unsettled her, though the initial horror had dulled over time. Twilight’s physical condition had improved slightly—her mane, though uneven, had been trimmed and cleaned, and her horn had been carefully filed to remove the jagged edges. Despite their best efforts, she still refused to eat or drink, leaving her frail and weak.
Luna sighed deeply as she approached. “She’s better than she was, physically at least. But...” She trailed off, unable to find the words.
Celestia nodded, her eyes never leaving Twilight. “But her mind is gone. She’s still trapped in that cell, even if her body isn’t.”
Luna hesitated before speaking again. “Sister, do you think...” She stopped, swallowing hard. “Do you think 10,000 years was too harsh?”
Celestia didn’t respond immediately. She didn’t need to. The guilt in her eyes said everything. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t think. I know. Nopony deserves this... not even Twilight. Her crimes were terrible, yes, but this? This was beyond punishment. It was cruelty.”
Luna lowered her head, her heart heavy. “What can we do for her now?”
“I don’t know,” Celestia admitted. “I’ve tried everything. Talking to her, playing music, reminding her of the good days... but it’s like she’s not there. Her body is here, but her soul... it’s somewhere else. Lost.”
Luna glanced at Twilight again, who hadn’t moved the entire time. Her once brilliant lavender coat was still dull, and her wings remained limp at her sides. The spark that had defined Twilight—her endless curiosity, her love for her friends—was extinguished.
“Do you think she knows who we are?” Luna asked softly.
Celestia’s voice was thick with emotion. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think she recognizes me. She looks at me like she’s trying to remember something, but it’s fleeting. It’s like trying to catch smoke.”
Luna stepped closer to Twilight, lowering herself to the mare’s eye level. “Twilight? Can you hear me?” she asked gently.
Twilight’s head tilted slightly, and for a brief moment, her eyes seemed to focus. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the moment passed, and her gaze drifted away.
Luna’s heart ached. She reached out a hoof, hesitating before lightly touching Twilight’s shoulder. Twilight flinched, a tiny movement, but enough to make Luna pull back. “She’s afraid,” Luna whispered.
“She’s more than afraid,” Celestia said. “She’s broken. And it’s my fault.”
Luna frowned. “Sister, you made a mistake. A terrible one. But wallowing in guilt will not help her. We must focus on what we can do now.”
“And what can we do, Luna?” Celestia’s voice was tinged with desperation. “Tell me, because I don’t know. I’ve tried everything I can think of, and nothing works. She’s slipping further away, and I can’t stop it.”
Luna was silent for a moment, her mind racing. Then an idea began to form. “What if we took her somewhere familiar? Somewhere that might remind her of who she was?”
Celestia looked at Luna, hope flickering in her eyes. “You think that might help?”
“I don’t know,” Luna admitted. “But it’s worth a try. Sitting here isn’t helping her. Maybe if we take her back to Ponyville... to the castle... it might spark something.”
Celestia hesitated. “Ponyville has changed so much. The castle is a ruin now. Do you think it will matter?”
Luna’s gaze was steady. “It’s not about the place itself, but the memories tied to it. If anything can reach her, it’s the connection she had to her friends and her home.”
Celestia looked down at Twilight, who remained unmoving on the pillow. She reached out with her magic, gently lifting the frail alicorn into the air. Twilight didn’t resist, but her body trembled slightly.
“Alright,” Celestia said, her voice firm. “We’ll try.”
The journey to Ponyville was somber. Celestia and Luna traveled in a quiet chariot, Twilight resting on a cushioned bench between them. She didn’t react to the movement or the change in scenery, her eyes remaining unfocused as the world passed by.
When they arrived, the town was unrecognizable. Modern buildings had replaced the quaint cottages, and ponies bustled about, unaware of the ancient history tied to their home. The Castle of Friendship stood in ruins on the outskirts, its once-glorious spires now crumbling and overgrown with vines.
Celestia and Luna guided Twilight toward the ruins, their steps slow and deliberate. As they approached, Celestia felt a pang of nostalgia. She remembered the day she had gifted the castle to Twilight, how bright her student’s eyes had been, filled with wonder and pride.
“Twilight,” Celestia said softly, “we’re here. Do you remember this place?”
Twilight’s eyes flickered, a faint glimmer of recognition passing through them. She blinked slowly, her gaze settling on the broken remains of the castle. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.
Luna stepped closer. “Take your time, Twilight. You’re safe here.”
Twilight took a shaky step forward, her hooves unsteady on the uneven ground. She looked around, her expression blank but her movements deliberate. Celestia and Luna watched in silence, their hearts pounding as they waited for a sign, any sign, that Twilight was still in there.
Finally, Twilight stopped in front of what had once been the throne room. She stared at the six stone thrones, now cracked and weathered by time. Her hoof lifted, trembling, as she pointed at one of the thrones.
“That... was mine,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and barely audible.
Celestia’s breath caught. “Yes, Twilight. It was yours. And your friends sat with you.”
Twilight’s eyes filled with tears, the first true emotion she had shown in millennia. She sank to the ground, her body wracked with silent sobs. Celestia rushed to her side, wrapping her wings around her former student.
“I’m so sorry, Twilight,” Celestia whispered, her own tears falling freely. “For everything. I’m so sorry.”
Twilight didn’t respond, but she leaned into Celestia’s embrace, her sobs gradually subsiding. Luna stood nearby, her heart heavy but hopeful. It was a small step, but it was a step nonetheless.
Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way back from the darkness.
As soon as the moment came, it vanished like smoke on the wind. Twilight didn’t cry anymore. The emotions that had briefly surfaced were gone, leaving her face blank and hollow once more. She attempted to walk away, but her malnourished legs gave out beneath her frail body, and she crumpled to the floor. Luna moved to help her, but Twilight didn’t react—didn’t acknowledge anything or anyone. Her eyes, once filled with determination and a hunger for knowledge, were now vacant.
“We really did break her,” Luna whispered, her voice thick with regret. “She can’t even shine through the darkness anymore. She doesn’t have the motivation to.”
Celestia took a heavy breath, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her guilt. “We have to keep trying,” she said resolutely, though her voice betrayed the uncertainty gnawing at her heart.
They boarded the royal chariot in silence, Twilight’s limp form cradled in Celestia’s magic. The ride back to the castle was somber, the only sounds the rhythmic beat of the pegasi’s wings and the occasional rumble of distant thunder. When they arrived, Celestia carried Twilight to her quarters and gently set her down on the soft cushion that had become her resting place. Twilight sank into it without protest, her body folding in on itself like a puppet with its strings cut.
For hours, Celestia stayed by her side, speaking softly, recounting stories from days long past. She talked about their shared adventures, the friends they had made, and the lessons they had learned. Twilight didn’t respond, but she began to whisper. Her voice was so faint that Celestia couldn’t make out the words, but it was something—a small spark of life in the otherwise empty shell.
Late one night, Celestia was roused from a restless sleep. The rain tapped insistently against the windows of her chamber, the sound a steady, melancholic rhythm. Something had stirred her awake, though she couldn’t quite place what. She glanced toward the window and froze.
Twilight was there, her emaciated form silhouetted against the faint glow of the moonlight. She stared out into the storm, her hollow eyes following the trails of rain as they slid down the glass. For a moment, Celestia thought she was dreaming, but the quiet creak of the floorboards beneath her hooves confirmed that it was real.
“Twilight,” Celestia said softly, careful not to startle her. “What are you doing?”
Twilight didn’t turn at first. Her gaze remained fixed on the rain, her lips moving as though she were speaking to it. Finally, she answered, her voice hoarse and broken. “I killed them to get stronger. I killed them to… to be stronger than someone. But I can’t remember who I killed, or who I was trying to beat.”
The clarity of her words struck Celestia like a blow. It was the most she had spoken in… how long? Days? Weeks? Perhaps months? But her words were laced with confusion and despair, each one a dagger twisting in Celestia’s chest.
“Twilight…” Celestia began, but she faltered. What could she possibly say? How could she bridge the chasm that had opened between them?
Twilight finally turned to face her, and Celestia’s breath caught. Her eyes, though still dull and lifeless, seemed to search for something. “What were we talking about again?” Twilight asked, her voice trailing off into an unintelligible murmur.
Celestia swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped closer, nudging Twilight gently toward the bed. “It’s late,” she said softly. “You should rest.”
Twilight allowed herself to be guided back to the pillow, her movements slow and mechanical. Celestia draped a blanket over her frail body and lingered for a moment, watching as Twilight’s breathing steadied. “Please eat something tomorrow,” Celestia whispered, though she knew there would likely be no response.
Twilight’s lips moved again, forming words Celestia couldn’t hear. She stayed by her side until the first light of dawn began to creep through the window.
The next day, Celestia summoned Luna and Cadence to her chambers. They needed to talk. As much as Celestia wanted to believe she could handle this on her own, it was clear that Twilight’s condition was beyond her ability to mend alone.
Luna arrived first, her expression grave. She had been plagued by nightmares—not her own, but the echoes of Twilight’s torment that lingered in the dream realm. Cadence followed shortly after, her eyes red and puffy from crying. The sight of Twilight in her current state had shaken her to the core.
“Thank you both for coming,” Celestia said, her tone heavy with weariness. “I fear I’ve failed Twilight more than I ever thought possible.”
Luna placed a comforting hoof on her sister’s shoulder. “We all share responsibility in this, Tia. We agreed to her punishment. We all thought it was the only way.”
“I didn’t think it would…” Cadence’s voice broke, and she shook her head. “I didn’t think it would destroy her like this. She’s… she’s not Twilight anymore.”
Celestia nodded grimly. “No, she’s not. And unless we do something, we may lose what little of her remains.”
“But what can we do?” Luna asked. “She barely acknowledges us. Her body is weak, and her mind…” She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
Celestia looked toward the door to her chambers, where Twilight sat in silence. “We start with small steps. We help her regain her strength, physically and mentally. And we never stop trying. She may never be the mare she once was, but if there’s even a chance that we can bring her some semblance of peace, we owe it to her to try.”
The others nodded, though doubt lingered in their eyes. It wouldn’t be easy. In fact, it might be impossible. But Celestia knew that if they gave up now, they would never forgive themselves.
Over the next few weeks, they implemented a routine. Meals were brought to Twilight’s side, and while she rarely ate, they continued to offer them. Cadence tried to coax her with stories from the Crystal Empire, tales of love and triumph that once would have brought a smile to Twilight’s face. Luna spent time in the dream realm, attempting to reach Twilight there, though her efforts were met with the same emptiness that plagued her waking hours.
Celestia stayed by her side through it all. She read aloud from books Twilight had once loved, her voice steady even when her heart ached. She spoke of the past, of the friends Twilight had cherished, hoping to spark even a flicker of recognition. And though progress was slow—painfully slow—there were moments, fleeting and fragile, where it seemed as though Twilight might be reaching for something.
One evening, as Celestia read from “Starswirl’s Compendium of Advanced Magic,” Twilight’s lips moved. It was so faint that Celestia almost missed it. She leaned closer, her heart pounding.
“Starswirl,” Twilight whispered, her voice barely audible. “He… he said magic… magic is…”
Her words trailed off, but Celestia’s eyes filled with tears. It was the first time Twilight had shown even the faintest spark of her former self. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
But for every step forward, there were steps back. Twilight’s moments of clarity were rare and fleeting, and her periods of silence stretched endlessly in between. The damage done by her isolation was deep, and it would take more than time to heal.
Still, they persisted. Because Twilight had once been the brightest light in Equestria, and even though that light had dim
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WHAT DOES ONE WHO DOESN’T THINK… THINK ABOUT?
The night was quiet, save for the sound of the wind whispering through the castle’s high towers. Luna stood on her balcony, watching as Celestia lowered the sun, its golden light fading into the deep indigo of evening. With a graceful motion, she raised the moon, its pale glow casting long shadows across the land. Yet, tonight the moon’s light felt dimmer, as though even it was weighed down by the heaviness that permeated the castle.
Luna’s thoughts were consumed by Twilight. Each day, the former Princess of Friendship seemed more lost, more unreachable. Luna had tried before to delve into Twilight’s dreams, to offer her solace or at least understand the chaos within her mind, but every attempt had ended in failure. Tonight, however, something felt different. Determined, she made her way to Celestia’s chambers.
The door creaked softly as Luna entered. Celestia lay on her bed, her breathing deep and steady as she slept. Across the room, Twilight sat motionless on a cushion, her gaze fixed on the wall. Her eyes, devoid of light and emotion, sent a shiver through Luna. She approached cautiously, her voice a soft murmur.
“Twilight,” she said, though she knew there would be no response. Kneeling beside her, Luna gently placed a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “Let’s try this.”
With the utmost care, she guided Twilight’s head downward, closing her eyelids. Twilight did not resist, her body limp under Luna’s touch. Luna took a deep breath, her horn glowing faintly as she cast the spell to enter the dream realm. At first, there was nothing but darkness, an impenetrable void that threatened to push her back. But then, she felt it—a tenuous connection, fragile yet present.
“Yes,” Luna whispered to herself, hope flickering within her. She pushed deeper, her magic weaving through the threads of Twilight’s subconscious until she finally breached the surface of a dream.
Or perhaps it was more accurate to call it a nightmare.
Luna stood in the middle of a vast, desolate expanse. The sky above was a swirling tempest of black and crimson, lightning crackling across the clouds. The air was thick with the sound of screams—hundreds, perhaps thousands, of voices crying out in agony. Wind howled around her, carrying with it fragments of shattered memories that whipped past like shards of glass. Each fragment held an image, but the faces of the ponies within them were blank, their features eerily erased.
In the center of this chaos stood Twilight. Her mane whipped wildly in the wind, and her eyes stared unblinkingly at the storm above. Her mouth moved, but her words were swallowed by the cacophony around her. Luna called out to her, but her voice was lost in the gale. She tried to approach, her hooves sinking into the ground, which felt like a mixture of ash and blood.
As Luna drew closer, she began to see more—snippets of memories embedded in the storm. She saw the Elements of Harmony shattered into pieces, the faces of her friends replaced with hollow voids. She saw herself and Celestia, their expressions distorted by rage or grief. And she saw Twilight, standing alone amidst it all, her face contorted with pain and anger.
Luna’s heart ached as she reached out, her voice trembling. “Twilight! It’s me! Please, look at me!”
Twilight’s head turned slowly, her movements jerky and unnatural. Her eyes met Luna’s, and for a brief moment, there was something there—recognition, perhaps, or the faintest glimmer of the pony she once was. But then, the connection snapped. The storm surged, and Luna was flung backward, the force of it tearing her from the dream.
Luna awoke with a scream, her body jolting upright as sweat drenched her coat. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, the echoes of the screams still ringing in her ears. The room spun around her, and for a moment, she could still feel the storm’s oppressive weight pressing down on her.
“Luna!” Celestia’s voice was sharp with alarm as she rushed to her sister’s side. She wrapped a hoof around Luna, holding her close. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
Luna shook her head, though tears streamed down her face. She buried her face in Celestia’s shoulder, her sobs coming in heaving, uncontrollable waves. “Twilight… her dreams… they’re… they’re terrifying,” she choked out.
Celestia’s eyes widened, her heart sinking at Luna’s words. She held her sister tighter, her mind racing. “Tell me what you saw,” she urged gently.
Luna tried to speak, but the details of the dream felt slippery, as though her mind were actively trying to forget them. She managed to describe the storm, the screams, and the faceless ponies, though the effort left her shaking. “It was like… like she’s trapped in a storm of her own making. And she’s alone, Celestia. So alone.”
Celestia’s gaze drifted to Twilight, who sat in her usual spot on the cushion. She had turned her head slightly, her hollow eyes fixed on the sisters. The sight sent a chill through Celestia. How much of their conversation had Twilight heard? Did she even understand?
Luna pulled away, wiping her tears as she followed Celestia’s gaze. “She’s still in that storm, even now. I don’t know how to reach her, Tia. I don’t even know if we can.”
Celestia’s expression hardened, though her eyes betrayed her despair. “We have to try. No matter how long it takes, we have to keep trying.”
Luna nodded, though doubt gnawed at the edges of her resolve. She rose to her hooves, her legs still unsteady. “I need to rest,” she said quietly. “If I can recover, I’ll try again tomorrow night.”
Celestia watched as Luna left the room, her heart heavy. She turned back to Twilight and approached her cautiously. “Twilight,” she said softly, lowering herself to meet her former student’s gaze. “Can you hear me?”
Twilight’s eyes flickered for a moment, her lips parting as if to speak. But no words came. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, as though trying to comprehend the question. Celestia sighed, her heart breaking all over again.
“I’m so sorry, Twilight,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “For everything.”
She stayed with Twilight through the night, the rain pattering softly against the windows. Though the storm outside was gentle, Celestia knew that the one within Twilight’s mind was anything but. And as the hours dragged on, she could only hope that one day, they would find a way to calm it.
Twilight couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember, and it made her angry. Anger turned to fear, and fear churned into despair.
What happened? What happened? What happened?
The question echoed endlessly in her fragmented mind, but no answer came. Where was she? Who were these ponies? Who was she? Twilight’s thoughts spiraled into chaos as her soul screamed for help.
HELP ME!
Her body refused to listen. She was a prisoner within herself, unable to move, to speak, to think clearly. The moments of clarity she experienced were fleeting and cruel, like a light flickering just before darkness swallowed it whole. Memories bubbled to the surface only to dissolve into mist, leaving her grasping at nothing. The emptiness gnawed at her, and the fear consumed what little was left.
The tall pony with a white coat and flowing, multi-colored mane visited often, speaking words that Twilight couldn’t comprehend. The language sounded like gibberish, distorted and alien. Twilight wanted to ask her what she was saying, but something deep inside screamed not to trust her. A shadowy, visceral instinct warned her to stay silent, though she didn’t know why. The connection to her thoughts, her memories, her very being—all of it was fractured. And yet, something primal whispered: Do not trust her.
Other ponies came, too. Twilight could tell they were different, but they all blurred together, faces fading into obscurity before she could grasp their details. They seemed familiar—achingly familiar—but she didn’t know why. The familiarity twisted like a knife in her chest.
I should know them. I should.
But she didn’t.
Twilight’s mind screamed louder, a deafening roar of panic and despair that reverberated through her very essence. HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME! The words rang out in her mind, but her body betrayed her. Her lips did not move, her voice did not rise. She was a prisoner trapped in silence.
The tall pony with the flowing mane—what did she want? Why did she keep talking to her? Twilight didn’t trust her, but her presence stirred emotions she couldn’t name. Fear. Sadness. Anger. Maybe love. It didn’t matter. The gibberish she spoke grated on Twilight’s ears like static, a constant reminder of how broken she was.
Some part of her resisted. Some part of her clung to the faintest thread of willpower. It felt as if a black smoke was calling to her. You can’t give up, it whispered. There’s a reason you’re still here. You have to hold on. Hold on for…
For what?
She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. The thread snapped.
Twilight’s mind called out one last time, a final desperate scream into the void. No one answered. No one heard.
She gave up.
Twilight sat on a pillow in the tall pony’s chambers, her eyes glassy and unfocused as they stared at the wall. The tall pony—Celestia, though Twilight couldn’t recall her name—watched her with growing despair. Day after day, Celestia tried to reach her, to pull her back from the abyss. But Twilight was gone.
She looked like Twilight. She sounded like Twilight in the rare moments she spoke. But the spark of the brilliant, vibrant mare she had once been was extinguished. Celestia’s heart broke every time she gazed into those empty eyes. She’d taken Twilight in after her release, hoping to help her heal. But instead of progress, Celestia witnessed a slow descent into an unfeeling, unthinking husk of a pony.
Twilight’s body obeyed when guided, but her movements were robotic, devoid of life or will. She sat where she was placed, stared where she was positioned, and remained silent unless prompted. Even then, her responses were nonsensical, fragments of sentences that trailed off into nothingness.
Celestia didn’t blame her. How could she? Twilight’s mind had endured 10,000 years of unrelenting torment. Isolation. Hunger. Silence. Nothingness. The punishment Celestia had decreed felt less like justice and more like an unforgivable crime. Guilt weighed heavily on her every time she looked at Twilight. This was her doing. Twilight’s broken mind, her shattered spirit—it was all Celestia’s fault.
That night, Celestia sat beside Twilight, speaking softly as if the words might somehow reach her. She recounted stories from the past, moments of joy and triumph from a time when Twilight had been her student, her friend, her equal.
“Do you remember the time you accidentally turned everypony in Ponyville into animals?” Celestia said with a faint smile, though her voice trembled. “You were so panicked, but you fixed everything in the end. You always did.”
Twilight didn’t react. Her gaze remained fixed on the far wall, her ears twitching faintly but offering no sign of recognition.
Celestia sighed. “Twilight, if you can hear me… I’m so sorry. I never should have…” Her voice broke, and she lowered her head, tears spilling freely down her cheeks.
Still, Twilight said nothing.
That night, Twilight dreamed. At least, it felt like a dream. The darkness of her mind gave way to a chaotic storm of images and sounds. Broken memories flashed before her, fragmented and incomprehensible. The screaming of hundreds of ponies filled the air, a cacophony of anguish and terror that drowned out her thoughts.
She saw glimpses of faces, but they were featureless, empty voids where eyes and mouths should have been. The ponies surrounded her, reaching out with hooves that melted into shadows. Twilight tried to move, to run, but her legs refused to obey. The shadows closed in, suffocating and relentless.
“Who am I?” Twilight’s voice echoed in the void, but it sounded distant, hollow.
No answer came. The shadows consumed her.
Celestia awoke to the sound of screaming. Her heart raced as she bolted upright, her wings flaring instinctively. She turned to see Twilight thrashing on the pillow, her hooves flailing weakly as guttural cries tore from her throat. It was the first time Twilight had shown any emotion since her release, and it terrified Celestia.
“Twilight!” she called, rushing to her side. “Twilight, it’s okay! You’re safe!”
Twilight’s eyes snapped open, wide with terror, but they were unfocused, staring through Celestia as if she weren’t there. Her screams subsided into ragged breaths, and she collapsed back onto the pillow, trembling.
Celestia placed a hoof gently on Twilight’s shoulder, her voice soft and soothing. “It’s alright, Twilight. It was just a dream. You’re safe now.”
Twilight didn’t respond. Her breathing slowed, and her eyes drifted closed once more, but the tension in her body remained. Celestia stayed by her side, stroking her mane as tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t bear to see Twilight like this.
“I’ll find a way to help you,” Celestia whispered. “I promise.”
But even as she said the words, doubt crept into her heart. Could Twilight ever truly heal? Or was the mare she had once been lost forever, buried beneath the weight of 10,000 years of suffering? Celestia didn’t know. All she could do was hope.
In the days that followed, Celestia and Luna worked tirelessly to find a way to help Twilight. Luna delved into ancient texts, searching for spells or rituals that might mend a broken mind. Celestia devoted her time to caring for Twilight, speaking to her, reading to her, and simply sitting by her side.
Twilight’s condition remained unchanged. She was a shadow of her former self, a hollow shell. But Celestia refused to give up. She couldn’t. Twilight had been her friend, her family, her greatest joy. She owed it to her to keep trying, no matter how hopeless it seemed.
One evening, as Celestia sat beside Twilight, she took her hoof gently in her own.
“Twilight,” she said softly, “if you can hear me, I need you to know something. I love you. I always have, and I always will. You were my brightest star, my greatest achievement. I… I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I’ll never stop trying to make it right. Please, come back to us. Come back to me.”
For a moment, just a moment, Celestia thought she saw a flicker of something in Twilight’s eyes. A spark, faint and fleeting, but there.
Then it was gone, and Twilight’s gaze returned to the void. Celestia’s heart sank, but she held onto that moment, that tiny glimmer of hope. It was all she had left.
It was so clear now. Why hadn’t I thought about it before? Heh. My name is... Twilight Sparkle. I killed people. I still can’t remember who I killed, but they had some sort of significance. No. What I remembered is the pony that acted like she cared. Princess Celestia. Hehe. She did this, didn’t she? She’s the reason I can’t... remember.
It was slow, but her features slowly began to return, and with that... my hate. I hated her. 10,000 years. I lost myself for a minute there, but I’m back. The time will come. Celestia, I swear on my soul... your blood will be on my hooves. But for now, I have forgotten. That’s all you need to know. Heheh =).
Celestia watched as Twilight was once again studying the wall. It was a little embarrassing, but she herself studied the wall to see if it was interesting. It wasn’t, and after, she felt stupid. Celestia looked back at Twilight. She was still staring, as though the wall might hold some unspeakable truth that only she could discern.
Luna walked in and sighed heavily. “Sister, we need to talk.” Her voice was low but firm. “Twilight... we all wish for her to be better, but every day it feels futile. We keep losing her. I think... I think it’s time we put her down. It would be the merciful thing to do.”
Celestia’s expression tightened, and she shook her head. “Absolutely not. We can’t give up on her. There... there has to be a way.”
Luna sighed, her tone growing sterner. “Sister, I will allow this for two more months. If she doesn’t show any signs of being better by then... you will have to face the reality of the situation. She’s already bad enough as is. She’s still skinnier than a hungry filly and barely talks after nearly a year of staying.”
Celestia’s ears flattened, but she didn’t argue further. She looked back at Twilight, who hadn’t moved, hadn’t blinked, hadn’t shown any sign she had heard the conversation at all. A pit formed in her stomach, but she refused to entertain Luna’s suggestion.
Twilight’s mind, however, was far from idle. Behind the lifeless expression and blank stare was a storm of thoughts, feelings, and memories slowly taking shape. They swirled like fragments of shattered glass, each piece sharp and disjointed. Her name. Her actions. Her punishment. Celestia.
She could feel the anger bubbling up from deep within her. It was subtle at first, like a faint ember struggling to ignite. Then it grew, fueled by flashes of clarity. She remembered Celestia’s cold expression during the trial, the sound of the door sealing her away, the suffocating isolation of her cell. It had taken so long to find even fragments of herself, but now she was certain of one thing: she hated Celestia. With every fiber of her being, she hated her.
And yet, something inside her wavered. A faint, flickering doubt. A small voice, buried under years of anger and confusion, whispered that there had been more to the story. That there had been a reason for it all. But every time she tried to focus on it, the memory slipped away, drowned out by her rage.
Celestia sat by Twilight’s side late into the night, as she often did. She spoke softly, recounting memories of happier times, though they felt like a knife twisting in her chest. Twilight remained silent, her eyes fixed on the wall.
“Do you remember the day you became my student?” Celestia asked, her voice trembling slightly. “You were so eager to learn, so full of potential. I saw a light in you, Twilight. A light brighter than I had ever seen before.”
Twilight’s ear twitched slightly, but she didn’t respond.
Celestia pressed on, desperate to reach her. “You’ve made mistakes. We all have. But you are not beyond redemption. You are not beyond love.”
At that, Twilight’s head turned slowly to face her. Her eyes, though still hollow, locked onto Celestia’s with a cold intensity. For a brief moment, Celestia thought she saw a spark of recognition, of emotion, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
Twilight’s lips parted, and she spoke for the first time in weeks. Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “You... did this.”
Celestia’s heart sank. “Twilight, I... I thought I was doing what was necessary. I thought I was protecting Equestria.”
Twilight’s gaze hardened, her voice gaining strength. “You locked me away. You took everything from me. My friends. My life. My mind. And now you sit here, pretending to care?”
Celestia opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Tears welled in her eyes as Twilight turned away, her expression unreadable.
Luna found Celestia the next morning, sitting alone in the garden. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden glow over the castle grounds.
“Sister?” Luna said softly, sitting beside her. “You look troubled.”
Celestia let out a heavy sigh. “She spoke to me last night. For the first time in weeks.”
Luna’s eyes widened. “That’s... good, isn’t it?”
Celestia shook her head. “She blames me. And she’s right to. I failed her, Luna. I failed her in every possible way.”
Luna placed a hoof on her sister’s shoulder. “You did what you thought was right at the time. None of us could have predicted how far she would fall, or how much she would suffer.”
“But I should have known,” Celestia said, her voice breaking. “I should have seen the signs. I should have helped her before it came to this.”
Luna sighed. “Perhaps. But dwelling on the past will not change the present. We must focus on what we can do now.”
Celestia nodded slowly, though her heart remained heavy. “I just... I don’t know if I can reach her, Luna. I don’t know if she can ever forgive me.”
Luna’s expression hardened. “Then we will find a way. Together.”
Twilight, meanwhile, sat alone in her room. The anger that had been simmering beneath the surface now burned brightly, fueling her thoughts and giving her a sense of purpose she hadn’t felt in centuries. But beneath that anger was a deep, gnawing pain. A part of her wanted to believe Celestia’s words, to trust that she truly cared. But every time she tried, the memories of her punishment came rushing back, drowning out any hope of reconciliation.
She stared out the window, watching as the sun rose higher into the sky. For the first time in a long time, she felt something other than emptiness. It wasn’t joy or hope, but it was something. It was a beginning.
“I remember,” she whispered to herself. “And I won’t forget again.”
Princess Celestia. You think you care? You think you know my pain? You’re wrong. I don’t feel pain. Not anymore. In fact, I’m grateful, Celestia. Yes, grateful. This revelation has proven that I knew more than you ever wanted me to know. It confirmed the truth you were so desperate to bury. You were afraid. Afraid of me. Afraid of what I had become.
I was no longer your obedient little lapdog, Celestia, and that terrified you. I saw it in your eyes the day you sentenced me. You tried to mask it behind that façade of stoic determination, but I could see the cracks. You feared me. You still do.
I killed my friends, Celestia, and their faces haunt me. I won’t lie and say it doesn’t hurt sometimes. I can hear their voices, calling my name, pleading with me to stop. But their deaths were not in vain. No. Their deaths were necessary. They helped me realize my strength. They helped me see the truth.
I didn’t need you. I never did. You pretended to guide me, to nurture me, but in reality, you were shaping me into your weapon. A tool for your precious harmony. But the day I became an Alicorn, something shifted. I saw through your lies. I saw the strings you had tied to me, controlling my every move. You didn’t make me a Princess out of love or pride. You did it to keep me close. To keep me under your control.
Well, Celestia, I cut the strings. I severed them the moment I realized what you were. And that’s why you were so desperate to lock me away. You couldn’t bear the thought of your perfect little student defying you, of her becoming more powerful than you. And I have. I am.
I’ve been biding my time, Celestia. You think you’ve broken me, but you’ve only made me stronger. I’ve been eating, regaining my strength bit by bit, right under your nose. You didn’t notice, did you? Too consumed by your guilt, your pathetic attempts to “help” me. But I’ve noticed everything. I’ve seen the way you look at me, the way you hesitate before speaking. You’re still afraid. And you should be.
The time is nearing. Soon, I’ll show you what true power looks like. I’ll make you understand what it feels like to be powerless, to watch as everything you’ve built crumbles before your eyes. You act like you care for me, but you don’t. You care for the puppet you created, the image of Twilight Sparkle you crafted to serve your purposes. You don’t care for who I am now. You never did.
You’re a coward, Celestia. A coward who hides behind her crown, her image, her lies. But I see you for what you really are. And I’m going to exploit your cowardice. You think you’ve been in control, but the truth is, I’ve been calling the shots all along.
I’ll take everything from you, just as you took everything from me. I’ll make you see the depths of my strength, the magnitude of my hatred. You’ll realize too late that you never truly understood me, that you underestimated what I’m capable of.
I’m the one who pulls the strings now, Celestia. And soon, I’ll make you dance.
I swear on my soul, your blood will be on my hooves. But not yet. Not until the time is right. For now, I’ll wait. I’ll play my part, biding my time in the shadows. Let them think I’m broken, that I’ve given up. Let them pity me, mourn for the Twilight they think they’ve lost. It only makes the game more satisfying.
The end is coming, Celestia. And when it does, you’ll understand what it means to face true despair.
Heheh =).
Celestia felt more and more hopeless as the days stretched into weeks, and Twilight showed no signs of genuine recovery. The faint glimmers of progress she had once clung to had faded into mere illusions. Twilight occasionally spoke, but the words were hollow, stripped of meaning. Often, they were just echoes of Celestia or Luna’s own conversations about her—a bleak mimicry that only deepened the despair.
“She spoke today,” Celestia whispered to Luna one evening, her voice trembling with a mixture of forced optimism and despair. “She said, ‘She won’t recover.’”
Luna, standing on the balcony and staring at the moon she had raised, didn’t turn to face her sister. “Did she say it like she understood the meaning? Or did she just parrot your words back to you?”
Celestia hesitated. That pause was answer enough.
Luna sighed, closing her eyes as a breeze rolled through the castle. “Sister, I’ve tried. I’ve ventured into her dreams over and over, but… the things I see there are…” She trailed off, shivering at the memory. “It’s like walking into Tartarus itself. The screams, the void, the disjointed memories. She doesn’t want me there, Celestia. It’s as if she’s pushing me out.”
“Then what do we do?” Celestia asked, her voice breaking. “If we can’t reach her through her dreams, if she won’t speak to us, what else can we try? Luna, there has to be a way.”
Luna turned to her sister, her expression heavy with sorrow. “I don’t think there is. Some wounds cannot heal. Some minds… cannot be saved.”
Celestia refused to believe it. She had to refuse.
I am so close.
The memories flood back like a river bursting through a dam, overwhelming and intoxicating. I remember everything now. Every agonizing month, every agonizing year, every agonizing century. I remember them.
Fluttershy’s wide, tear-filled eyes as she pleaded with me. The tremor in her voice when she said she forgave me. Oh, how sweet that mercy was, right before I extinguished it.
Rainbow Dash’s defiance. Her screams of betrayal as she fought me until her last breath. Her loyalty to her friends… to me… it made her taste of despair all the richer.
Pinkie Pie. Poor, pitiful Pinkie Pie. She tried to make me laugh one last time. A desperate attempt to bring back the Twilight she once knew. I laughed. Oh, how I laughed. And then I silenced her forever.
Applejack. Stubborn, steady Applejack. She didn’t beg. She didn’t plead. She just looked at me with those eyes—those sad, accepting eyes. She knew I wouldn’t stop. She accepted it. Her strength tasted bitter.
Rarity, though. Rarity was different. She didn’t cry. She didn’t accept. She fought. She hated me. She cursed my name, cursed everything I’d become. That hatred was almost admirable. Almost.
I remember all of them.
And now, as the memories flood my mind, I feel… free. Their faces no longer haunt me. Their screams no longer pierce my soul. In fact, I relish them. They were my stepping stones to a greater understanding, my foundation for power. Their sacrifices were necessary, and I have no regrets.
It feels good to… remember.
Now I lie in wait. I watch her—the one who pretends to care. Celestia. I see her sorrow, her guilt. It amuses me. She’s so blind, so foolish, thinking she can save me. She doesn’t realize I’ve already saved myself.
She’s like a mother hen hovering over a broken egg, trying desperately to nurture something that’s long dead. It’s pathetic, really. But useful. Her guilt keeps her blind to the truth. She doesn’t notice how much I’ve changed. How much I’ve grown.
I’m not the same Twilight Sparkle who once looked up to her, who once sought her approval, who once called her “mentor.” That Twilight is dead. I killed her the day I realized the truth: I don’t need Celestia. I never did.
Something deep in my old soul whispers that what I’m doing is wrong. That Celestia only wants to help me, that she loves me. I laugh at that voice. It’s a relic of the past, a ghost of the weak, naive pony I used to be.
No. The new me knows the truth. Celestia’s “help” is a lie. Her love is a lie. She’s a coward, hiding behind her mask of benevolence while she manipulates and controls. She thought she could shape me into her perfect little weapon, her faithful student, her lapdog. But she failed.
And now? Now, I’m the one pulling the strings. I’m the one who decides what happens next. Celestia is no longer the puppeteer.
And soon, she will know. Soon, she will see the truth. Soon, she will pay for everything.
For now, I’ll let her believe she’s still in control. I’ll let her believe she has a chance to save me. Let her cling to her pathetic hope for a little while longer. It will make her fall all the sweeter.
The time is nearing. The moment I’ve been waiting for.
Celestia, you’ll see. You’ll see the real me. And when you do… you’ll regret ever trying to save me.
Celestia woke to a dull, gray morning. The sunlight that usually bathed her chambers with warmth seemed muted, almost lifeless. She stretched and instinctively raised the sun, casting pale rays over the castle. Her gaze turned toward Twilight, seated in her usual spot near the window.
Twilight was there, but something was off.
“Good morning, Twilight,” Celestia said as she slid out of bed, her tone soft and maternal.
Twilight didn’t respond, as usual. Her silence had become a part of Celestia’s routine—a constant reminder of her failure.
But this time, Celestia hesitated. Something gnawed at her. She studied Twilight’s form. Her head was tilted slightly downward, her mane disheveled but falling naturally in a way that gave her an almost regal air. And then Celestia saw it—her eyes.
They weren’t empty anymore. They shimmered with something that sent a chill down Celestia’s spine.
Malice.
Twilight was smiling.
“You really thought you killed me, huh?” Twilight’s voice was calm, almost conversational. Her lips curled upward, but there was no warmth in her smile—only venom.
Celestia froze, her breath caught in her throat.
Twilight stood effortlessly, her movements smooth and deliberate. Gone was the frail, skeletal figure that had struggled to even sit upright. She looked… strong. Confident.
“All those years ago,” Twilight continued, her tone growing sharper, “when I promised you wouldn’t break me? Heheheh. I wasn’t bluffing.”
“Twilight,” Celestia began, taking a cautious step back, “please—”
“You did break me. For a minute. I was truly gone.” Twilight’s voice lowered, her smile twisting into a sneer. “But I came back. And as I said, I am so much stronger.”
Celestia’s horn sparked with magic, her instinct to defend herself overwhelming her hesitation. “Twilight, please. You don’t have to do this. We can still fix this. I can help you—”
Twilight laughed—a cold, biting laugh that echoed through the room. “You thought you were in control? No, Celestia. I’ve been in control. You bent to my will, blinded by your guilt, too weak to see the truth.”
Celestia felt her composure crumbling as tears welled in her eyes. “Twilight… I only wanted to help you.”
“Help me?” Twilight spat, her voice dripping with disdain. “Help me like you ‘helped’ everypony else? Like you helped Luna? Or did you mean to help yourself—ease your guilty conscience while keeping me under your hoof?”
“Twilight, that’s not true!” Celestia pleaded, stepping toward her former student.
Twilight’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Don’t. Lie. To. Me.” Her horn flared with a burst of dark purple energy, and a beam of raw magic shot toward Celestia.
Celestia barely managed to sidestep the attack, the beam scorching the marble floor where she had stood moments before.
“10,000 YEARS!” Twilight screamed, her voice filled with a rage that shook the walls. Another beam followed, crackling with violent energy.
The doors to Celestia’s chambers burst open as Luna stormed in, her horn blazing with silver light. “Twilight!” she gasped, taking in the scene. Without hesitation, she fired a bolt of magic at Twilight, knocking her off her hooves.
Twilight hit the floor but rose effortlessly, her wicked smile never faltering. “Ah, Luna. Always the warrior, aren’t you? No matter. You’ll fall just the same.”
Twilight’s horn glowed again, and the window behind her shattered. The shards of glass hung in the air, suspended by her magic, before launching toward the sisters in a deadly storm.
Celestia conjured a shield, the shards shattering harmlessly against it. “Twilight, please! Remember who you were! Remember your friends!”
Twilight tilted her head, her expression one of mock curiosity. “Oh, I remember. I remember everything. I remember who I was—the weak, submissive little mare who obeyed you without question. That Twilight is dead.”
She fired a volley of lasers at the sisters, her attacks relentless.
“We need to kill her!” Luna shouted, her voice grim as she fought to hold back Twilight’s assault.
“No!” Celestia screamed, pouring more magic into her shield to withstand the onslaught. “There’s still a chance—there has to be!”
Twilight laughed again, her voice dripping with malice. “You can’t hide forever, Celestia! Face me!”
“Tia, we can’t save her!” Luna yelled, her voice desperate.
“I won’t give up on her!” Celestia cried, tears streaming down her face as she strengthened her barrier.
Twilight’s smile widened. “You’re pathetic, Celestia. Weak. Always so weak.”
With a final scream, Celestia released a burst of magic that enveloped herself and Luna, teleporting them out of the room.
Cowards.
They ran away. Again.
I stood in the now-empty chamber, my chest rising and falling as I exhaled slowly. My magic settled, the room eerily quiet after the chaos. I smirked, my eyes scanning the ruined space.
“No matter,” I murmured to myself. “I’ll find them in due time. For now…”
My gaze shifted to the shattered remains of Celestia’s desk, where a collection of scrolls and books lay scattered amidst the debris. I levitated them, flipping through the pages with disinterest. Most of it was useless—mundane royal decrees, diplomatic correspondence.
But then I found something.
A map.
My smile returned as I studied it, my mind already calculating my next move.
Clockwork.
I paused, my thoughts drifting to Luna. Luna would be a problem, I realized. Unlike Celestia, Luna didn’t cling to false hope. Luna had already accepted that I was lost, and that made her dangerous.
But Celestia… oh, Celestia.
Her hope would be her downfall.
I chuckled to myself, rolling up the map and tucking it away. I stepped over the broken glass, my hooves crunching against the fragments as I made my way to the door.
“This palace will serve me well,” I mused aloud. “For now.”
… Something moved.
I saw something from the corner of my eye. That smoke was following me again. What did it want?
My smile widened as I left the room, my laughter echoing through the empty halls. No matter. My plan was already taking shape.
Guess who’s back?
Celestia teleported herself and Luna to the only place that felt safe in the moment: the Crystal Kingdom. Her mind raced as the light of the teleportation spell faded. What would she even say to Cadence? How could she explain this horror that had resurfaced? For 10,000 years, Twilight had been isolated, exiled, and broken. Or so Celestia thought. She had been certain that Twilight’s time away had neutralized the threat—not by killing her, but by breaking her spirit.
That was the cruel truth Celestia didn’t want to admit. Deep down, she had hoped Twilight would be rendered powerless, incapable of further destruction. And yet, here they were. After a decamillennia, Twilight Sparkle had returned, and her fury burned hotter than ever.
Cadence was outside before they reached the gates, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Aunt Celestia, Aunt Luna! What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Luna was the first to respond, her tone grim and direct. "It’s Twilight. She’s back, and she’s not herself. She wants Celestia dead—and likely the rest of us too."
The words struck Cadence like a blow. Her pupils shrank in terror as memories of Twilight’s trial so many millennia ago flooded back—the cold, soulless smile she wore as she was sentenced. Over the years, Twilight had become nothing more than an old mare’s tale, a story whispered in fear. But now, Cadence could feel the weight of that fear return, as real and tangible as the snow beneath her hooves.
She stepped back, gesturing quickly for them to follow her inside the castle. "Come in. Quickly."
Once inside, the three alicorns gathered in the throne room. They spoke in hushed, hurried voices, trying to form a plan. Luna urged them to strike decisively, while Celestia clung to the faint hope that Twilight could still be saved.
Their deliberation was interrupted by a deafening boom that echoed through the city.
Hehehe… I found them. It wasn’t hard to figure out where they’d run to. Cowards always retreat to familiar places. I’ll admit, I wasn’t entirely sure I could take on two alicorns at once—well, not yet. Celestia wouldn’t attack me; she didn’t have the confidence for that anymore. But Luna… she might. And she could be a problem.
No matter. I came prepared. The Elements of Harmony had been right where I left them, and even though they weren’t as powerful without their bearers, they still obeyed me. After all, I am the Element of Magic. The others… they were pawns. Just like Celestia.
Something deep inside me whispered doubts. A faint voice, almost unrecognizable. It told me I didn’t have to do this, that I could stop. That I didn’t have to kill my friends all those years ago.
No.
That was the old me. That was the puppet. I’m not her anymore. Regrets are for the weak. I have no regrets.
Celestia, your cowardice has bought you some time, but it won’t save you. Nothing will.
The loud explosion shook the walls of the Crystal Castle. Flurry Heart stumbled into the room, her wide eyes filled with panic. "Mom, what’s going on?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Cadence’s face went pale. "Hide," she said firmly. "Go to your room and don’t come out. Twilight… she cannot know about you. I pray she’s forgotten you."
Flurry Heart hesitated, fear etched across her features, but nodded and fled up the stairs.
“Come out, come out, Celestia!” Twilight’s voice rang through the city, amplified by magic. It was playful, mocking, and filled with malice.
Celestia’s legs nearly buckled under her. Luna stepped forward, her expression hardened. “Sister, stay here. Me and Cadence will confront her.”
“No, I should—”
Luna cut her off. “You’ll only make her angrier, and she’ll go straight for you. Stay inside.”
Reluctantly, Celestia nodded, and Luna and Cadence took to the skies.
Twilight was waiting for them in the middle of the city. Her eyes gleamed with wicked delight, and the Elements of Harmony orbited her like planets around a sun. Their light was dim, almost reluctant, but they followed her command nonetheless.
“Well, well, well,” Twilight said with a grin. “Have you come to kill me?”
“Twilight, please!” Cadence pleaded, her voice cracking. “There was a time when we were like sisters!”
Twilight’s smile faltered for a moment, but only for a moment. Her eyes narrowed, her expression twisting into a sneer. “Sisters? That’s rich. You didn’t do anything to stop this. You didn’t help me. You’re just as much a pawn as the rest of them.”
Her voice dripped with venom as she continued. “I trusted you. And you betrayed me, just like Celestia. But now… now I have the advantage!”
“Twilight—”
“Enough!” Twilight’s shout silenced Cadence. Her magic flared, and a nearby building was ripped from its foundation and flung toward the princesses. Cadence and Luna barely managed to dodge as the structure crashed into the streets, shattering into rubble.
Crystal ponies screamed and scattered, running in every direction. The city’s guards rushed to the scene, forming ranks around Twilight.
“No!” Cadence shouted. “You don’t understand! You can’t fight her!”
The guards didn’t listen. They held their ground, their spears pointed toward Twilight.
Twilight chuckled. “Oh, how noble. I’ll give you one chance. Walk away now, and I won’t have to kill you.”
The guards didn’t budge.
Twilight sighed. “Fine. Have it your way.”
With a flash of light, she unleashed a spell. The guards vanished, leaving only empty armor clattering to the ground.
Cadence screamed, her voice filled with anguish. “How could you!?”
“Easily,” Twilight replied coldly.
Luna’s patience snapped. She launched herself at Twilight, her horn blazing with magic. “You’re a monster!” she yelled.
Twilight smirked as their magic collided in a burst of energy. “Oh, please. Don’t pretend you’re any better, Luna. Didn’t you try to overthrow Celestia yourself? I’m offering you a chance to finish what you started. Join me, and we can end her reign once and for all.”
Luna gritted her teeth. “You’ve let your power consume you. You’re no better than the monster I once was.”
Twilight’s smirk faded. Her eyes darkened. “I am better. I’m free.”
She lashed out with another spell, sending Luna crashing into a nearby wall.
Cadence charged forward, firing a volley of magical blasts. Twilight blocked them with a shield, her expression one of mild annoyance. “You’re really starting to get on my nerves.”
She unleashed a surge of energy, knocking both Luna and Cadence to the ground. They struggled to rise, but Twilight was already advancing on them.
“You can’t stop me,” Twilight said, her voice eerily calm. “I’m stronger than all of you. And I will do whatever it takes to make Celestia pay.”
Luna’s vision blurred as she tried to stand. Through the haze, she thought she saw something flicker in Twilight’s eyes. Was it regret? Sadness?
Before she could be sure, darkness overtook her.
Well, that was easy.
I stood over their unconscious bodies, taking a moment to catch my breath. They fought harder than I expected, but it didn’t matter. They couldn’t stop me.
Nothing can stop me.
I looked up at the castle, where Celestia was undoubtedly hiding. She probably thought she was safe, that she could buy more time to come up with a plan.
How pathetic.
I turned away, letting my magic lift the Elements of Harmony around me. They flickered weakly, resisting my control, but I didn’t care. I didn’t need them to be at full strength. I just needed them to do what I told them.
And they would.
“Your time is running out, Celestia,” I whispered, a wicked smile spreading across my face.
Cowardice may have saved you today, but it won’t save you forever.
Author's Note
Answering some questions: How can she wield the elements? She is able to wield them kind of like how Celestia was able to wield them in her fight with Nightmare Moon, although they are severely weakened due to her friends not being there/ the cause not being good or noble.
How long could Luna last in a fight against EoH Insanity Twilight? She could hold her own for a bit, but there is a still a little part of her that wants to believe Twilight could change. (This little bit increases after Twilight spares her and Cadence after defeating them in the Crystal Kingdom)
Changes: Centuries to Millenia, Millenia to Decamillenia
Twilight entered the Crystal Castle with a murderous intensity that made the air feel sharp and heavy. Her steps echoed down the polished crystal halls, her gaze sweeping every shadow for the one pony she had come for. Somewhere in this shimmering labyrinth, Celestia was hiding. But not for long.
“Celestia… come out…” Twilight’s voice rang coldly, her words soaked in venom.
In her room, Flurry Heart pressed herself against the wall, trembling. She could hear her aunt’s voice reverberating through the walls, sharper than the coldest winter wind. Her thoughts raced. *Why, Auntie Twilight? Why have you become this monster?* But she didn’t have time to ponder. She had to act. Flurry rushed out of her room, her hooves striking the crystal floor in a frantic rhythm, just as she heard a door creak open down the hall. She froze as her heart sank.
Celestia stood there, facing Twilight, their eyes locking in a moment charged with years of pain and bitterness.
The tension was unbearable, and Flurry Heart knew what was about to happen. Summoning every ounce of courage, she darted forward, sliding to a stop between her aunt and the former ruler of Equestria. She spread her wings protectively, her voice quivering but resolute.
“Auntie, stop!” she cried out.
Twilight’s eyes widened in shock. For a fleeting moment, something familiar and warm flickered in them. “F-Flurry Heart?” she whispered. Her harsh demeanor faltered, and for the first time in ages, she looked… lost.
No, no! Why is she here? Why now? I was so close! Twilight’s thoughts raced, her resolve wobbling as she looked at her niece. She hadn’t accounted for this. She hadn’t accounted for her . Why did Celestia have to use every pony she cared about as a shield?
Twilight’s jaw tightened, and she stomped her hoof, the sound reverberating like thunder. “Move!” she barked, but her niece stood firm, her tiny frame unwavering.
“You don’t have to do this, Auntie!” Flurry Heart pleaded, her voice cracking. “This isn’t you! You’re not a monster!”
Not a monster? Twilight’s mind spiraled. Then why does everypony treat me like one? Why am I the villain of every story? Her heart warred with her mind. For a brief, fleeting moment, she wanted to believe her niece. She wanted to believe that this wasn’t who she was. But then the memories surged back: the trial, the betrayal, the cold stone walls of her imprisonment. No, she couldn’t falter. Not now. Not after everything.
“I’m not a monster…” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. Then, louder, more resolute: “I’m not a monster! But Celestia is! And if you won’t move, Flurry Heart, I’ll have to—”
Celestia watched the exchange, her heart pounding. She saw the hesitation in Twilight’s eyes, the conflict etched across her face. For the first time in centuries, Celestia saw a glimmer of the Twilight she once knew. But she couldn’t let it distract her.
Quietly, she powered up her horn. Twilight’s focus was elsewhere, and this was her chance. The spell she had prepared was old, ancient magic designed for containment. It wasn’t as quick or as effective without the Elements of Harmony or Luna’s aid, but it would suffice.
“I’m sorry, Twilight,” Celestia whispered, her voice barely audible.
A beam of golden magic erupted from her horn, striking Twilight squarely in the chest. Twilight screamed as she staggered back, her hooves scraping against the crystal floor. She looked down and saw her legs beginning to turn to stone.
“No… no, no, no!” Twilight’s voice rose to a fevered pitch. She thrashed and struggled, but the spell held firm. Her eyes burned with fury as she glared at Celestia. “You coward! You couldn’t even face me properly! You coward!”
“Auntie, no!” Flurry Heart cried, spinning around to face Celestia. “She was *hesitating*! She… she could’ve stopped! What have you done?”
Twilight’s tears streamed down her face as she looked at her niece one last time. “Flurry… please… kill me. Do it now. End this.” Her voice cracked with desperation. “Please.”
“I—I can’t,” Flurry stammered, shaking her head in horror. “I don’t want to hurt you!”
“Then you’re as useless as the rest of them,” Twilight spat, though her voice carried more sorrow than anger. She turned her gaze back to Celestia. “I hope you’re proud of yourself, Celestia. I really do. Because when I return—and I will—I’ll show you no mercy. No hesitation.”
The stone crept up her neck and finally over her face, freezing her anguished expression in place. The Elements of Harmony, which had been orbiting weakly around her, clattered to the floor, lifeless.
For a long moment, the room was silent.
“What have you done?” Luna’s voice broke the stillness as she and Cadence entered the hall. Their faces were pale, their eyes wide with disbelief.
Celestia didn’t answer. She simply stood there, staring at the statue that was once her most faithful student.
“Tia…” Luna’s voice wavered. “We could’ve saved her. She… she hesitated. She was still in there. Undo the spell.”
“No,” Celestia said quietly, her voice devoid of emotion.
“What?” Cadence’s voice rose, trembling with rage. “You can’t just leave her like this! Undo it! Now!”
Celestia turned her gaze to the Elements lying on the floor. “Only the caster or the Elements in their most powerful state can undo a petrification spell. And I won’t undo it.”
“You… you’re a coward,” Cadence hissed, her voice breaking. “She was *your* student. Your *family*. And you abandoned her when she needed you most. You—” Her voice caught in her throat, and she turned away, tears streaming down her face. “Flurry, let’s go.”
Flurry Heart hesitated, glancing back at the statue of her aunt. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, before following her mother.
Luna stayed behind, her gaze locked on Celestia. “She may have been mad, but she was right about one thing. You are a coward, Tia. I don’t know what you’ve become, but I’ll see you back in Canterlot.”
Celestia didn’t respond as Luna stormed out. She closed her eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. Using her magic, she gently lifted the statue of Twilight and carried it out of the castle.
What was I thinking? Twilight’s thoughts raced as she found herself trapped in the suffocating silence of her stone prison. Mercy? Why would I even consider it? Her mind screamed at her, berating her for her moment of weakness.
But beneath the anger and frustration, there was something else. Something softer. Something she didn’t want to acknowledge.
Flurry Heart… She closed her metaphorical eyes, trying to block out the image of her niece’s terrified face. Why did you have to be there? Why did you have to ruin everything?
And yet, even as she thought it, she knew the truth. It wasn’t Flurry Heart who had ruined everything. It was her. She had hesitated. She had doubted.
*No. No more doubts. No more regrets. I’ll destroy you, Celestia. I’ll destroy everything you’ve built. When I return…*
Her thoughts trailed off, leaving her alone in the cold, unyielding silence of her own mind.
The silence was absolute, broken only by the faint hum of magic that lingered in the stone shell encasing Twilight Sparkle. It was a stillness she could neither see nor escape, a void where time lost all meaning. She was frozen but not defeated. Her body was encased in stone, but her mind remained sharp, burning with purpose.
She didn’t bother asking herself anymore why she had faltered. Why she had hesitated. Those thoughts had run their course in the early days of her imprisonment. Now, there was only resolve. Twilight Sparkle, the mare who had once believed in friendship above all else, was gone. What remained was a force of will that refused to break.
I stopped asking myself why I even considered sparing Celestia, she thought bitterly. That coward… she couldn’t face the consequences, so she locked me away instead. She always was good at running from the truth.
Her mind replayed the scene again and again, like a nightmare she couldn’t escape. The look of fear on Flurry Heart’s face. The tears in Cadence’s eyes. The heartbreak in Luna’s voice. And above all, the cold, calculating indifference of Celestia as she cast her spell.
Coward, Twilight thought, the word searing like fire through her mind. You’ve won for now, but you won’t keep me here forever. No spell lasts forever. No prison is eternal.
She closed her metaphorical eyes, letting her thoughts swirl into focus. If she were to endure this timeless abyss, she would not do so passively. She would plan. She would prepare. And when the day came that the stone cracked and she emerged, the world would know her fury.
But before she let herself rest, there was something she needed to do. One final gesture, a small act of defiance to remind Celestia that she was not beaten. Not truly.
A faint spark of magic glimmered in Twilight’s mind. It was weak, barely enough to manifest beyond her stone prison, but it would suffice. Slowly, carefully, she shaped it into a single spell. A quill and parchment appeared in the void of her thoughts, floating weightlessly in the darkness.
The quill scratched against the paper, its strokes deliberate and venomous.
Dear Princess Celestia,
You defeated the threat again. You must be so proud. Or are you?
Are you proud of what you’ve done? Of how you’ve “saved” Equestria yet again? Or does it taste bitter, knowing the threat this time was your own student?
Are you afraid, Celestia? Afraid because I was stronger than you? Because I forced you to act in a way you never wanted your ponies to see? Does it haunt you that your precious mask of benevolence cracked, revealing the coward underneath?
Or are you ashamed? Ashamed because you only struck when I was at my weakest, too distracted to fight back. Ashamed because even then, you didn’t have the courage to face me alone.
I hope you’re ashamed. I hope it eats at you every day, the way your betrayal eats at me.
You are a coward, Celestia. Always have been, always will be. You hide behind others, sending ponies to fight your battles. You paint yourself as the noble leader, but when it comes down to it, you can’t even confront your own mistakes. Instead, you locked me away, thinking that would solve your problems.
It won’t.
I’ll be back, Celestia. One day, this stone will crack, and I will emerge stronger than ever. I will return, and when I do, you’ll know a world of hurt. You will pay for what you’ve done.
Until then, enjoy your hollow victory. I’ll be watching.
Your ~~faithful~~ hateful student,
The letter dissolved into a wisp of magic, vanishing into the void. Twilight knew it would find its way to Celestia. She could almost picture the look on her former mentor’s face when it arrived. The flicker of guilt. The flash of fear.
It brought a small, grim smile to her mind.
With that, Twilight allowed herself to retreat into the stillness. She would rest, but only for a while. She would dream, but not of happy memories. No, she would dream of her return, of the day when she would rise from the ashes and take back everything that had been stolen from her.
And when that day came, Celestia would regret the moment she chose to turn her back on her most faithful student.
The smoke sits before me, as if mocking my loss. It thinks it knows me. Well I think I know what it wants. Don’t worry… I’ll have a lot more when I’m back.
I will return.
Author's Note
It is done
Let me know if you would like to see more of this story (Prequel or sequel)
Also this is my tenth story, woohoo! I’ve had so much fun writing over the past couple weeks, although they have been short, the ideas that had been coupled up for so long finally flowed! And now I get to share them with you. Thank you!
