After traversing a barren landscape, and apparently surviving a fatal spell, I have arrived in a literal heaven. But, Futility is always around me, even now. We are a doomed planet, unless we sacrifice her.
It seems fate has a sick sense of humor. But mark my words:
At the end of this battle, there will be at least one mare with a purple body and a neatly cut mane lying in the dirt dead.
And it won’t be me.
Everyone gives into hopelessness eventually. When you're the only pony left in the world, and your name isn't actually Twilight Sparkle, what is there to hope for?
The world is doomed, unless the chosen one dies. The chosen one of the purple body and neatly cut mane.