“And I saw the world battling against blackness; against the waves of destruction from ultimate space; whirling, churning, struggling around the dimming, cooling sun.”

-From Nyarlathotep, by H.P. Lovecraft

Twilight Sparkle awoke, and the first thing she did was sigh in relief. She had a stuffy headache and cramped wings, but these wakeful feelings were welcome. Anything to get away from the nightmare.

She shivered, remembering. The strange bird-like things, worshiping the very monster that destroyed them. So bizarre and horrific that even its memory sent chills down her spine.

“Just a nightmare,” Twilight mumbled, and she rolled out of bed. She wobbled as her hooves hit the ground, feeling the headache grow worse. It was like somepony filled her skull so full of water that the pressure clamped down on her brain. She groaned feebly, pawing at popped ears and willing the sensation to go away.

It didn’t. Growling with bleary frustration, Twilight cradled her forehead as she stepped down the stairs. Coffee. Coffee would help.

She rubbed the ears again, trying to work the “pop” out of them. No such luck. The pressure was so thick she could hear it as a dull, endless buzzing of insects. Thrumming incessantly into her aching sinuses, evilly extending the night’s misery into morning.

Another groan rolled from her mouth as a few sharp noises broke the monotone buzz. Then a few more, faster than the first .

Twilight blinked and woke up a little more, recognizing the sound. Somepony was knocking. Twilight passed a hoof through her bedhead mane, not doubting for a second her looks matched her mood.

The toothbrush and comb were back upstairs, and she had no intention of making the journey. Whoever it was would have to deal with an unkempt princess.

She got halfway to the entrance before another sound assaulted her aching ears. A loud crash as her door flew open, startling the last cobwebs from Twilight’s brain.

On the other side were Rainbow Dash’s upturned hind legs, fresh from bucking the door off its hinges. A dozen expressions of annoyance and indignation rose to Twilight’s throat, her tongue readying itself for a lashing.

She held it, though. This was strange.

Something was wrong.

“Twilight!” Rainbow’s hidden face shrieked the words. The pegasus’ wings flapped wildly, turning her body as she shot through the doorway. The reason for her odd mode of entry was made apparent – Rainbow’s forehooves were plugging her ears, and as she turned in the air Twilight saw the panicked look on her face.

“Make it stop!” Rainbow mewled, looking to the princess with dinner-plate eyes.

“What? What!?” Twilight's own fear rose at her friend’s distress. “Rainbow, make what stop? The buzzing?”

Twilight half-laughed as she said it. How could another pony hear her headache? The dull, aching thrum had so oppressed her brain that she was saying the dumbest–

Rainbow nodded. “And its voice.”

“Huh?” Twilight cocked her head. It was just a headache, it wasn’t–

She heard it. Rather, she felt it. The smooth, cultured voice spoke, turning the monotone throb into hammer blows on her brain. Twilight cried out in surprise as the first syllables emerged from the dull buzz.

“Reasons. You’ll search for them, in the coming days.”

The words slithered into her mind, clearer than anything. Clearer than the buzzing, than the panicked shouts and groans trickling in from the street.

“Some reasons of ‘how’ or ‘what’ may cross your minds. Yet above all, you’ll wonder at the reason ‘why.’”

Even at this early moment, tiny relief was had. The pressure seemed to leak from Twilight's brain, easing the throbbing headache. But the voice grew louder, ever more distinct from the thrumming behind it.

“‘Why us?’ ‘Why me?’ ‘We don’t deserve this.’”

Now followed a strange rumbling as two other sounds rose within her mind. One seemed like a bird giving a dry, rattling laugh. It drowned out its neighbor – an urgent whisper, speaking a warning that could not be heard.

“Rainbow!” Twilight shook her friend with a hoof. “Rainbow!”

Rainbow had been looking fearfully upwards, and now turned back to Twilight. The panic was still in her eyes, but at least she held it inside.

“I need you to focus,” Twilight continued in the best friendly-yet-commanding voice she could muster. “Get the girls over here. I’ll start a teleportation circle, and it should be ready by the time you all show.”

“Where to?”

“Where do you think?” Twilight shouted, her voice cracking as she pushed Rainbow to the door. “Canterlot!”

“The ‘why’ of the matter is all very simple. But you won’t find it in the little science and prayer books you’ve used for all your ‘whys’ before now.”

“Chatty bastard, isn’t he?” Shining Armor said it breathlessly, with a weak, nervous laugh. He was scared, and the joke did nothing to hide it.

“Language, dear.” Cadence chided, using the words to hide a whimper. She was much the same. Their smiles exchanged little comfort.

Comfort or no, there was trust between them. When Shining’s magic grew too nervous to strap his armor, Cadence leaned in and helped. And then he returned the favor, closing the buckles on his wife’s crystalline plates.

“This isn’t fate, punishment, or anything silly like that. You are simply my playthings, and that is the only reason you and everything you know will die.”

The pair moved strangely as the bleak morning went on. Both Shining and Cadence were so scared they could hardly do a thing for themselves. Yet when either one noticed the other fumbling, they took over and performed the task with certainty. They were tied by love, amplified by Cadence’s magic a thousand-fold. They could feel each other’s emotions, sometimes even their thoughts.

The link made it twice as hard for them, burdening each with their own and their lover’s fear. But rising up all the fiercer against it was their devotion to each other. The certainty that everything was going to be okay, because they would be protected. Shining Armor would protect Cadence, and Cadence would protect Shining Armor.

“If Aunt Celestia even needs us,” Cadence chuckled, bringing a fresh warmth of assurance to both of them. “But we should hurry, just in case. Good thing I had them put a seat belt on the armor.”

“It amuses me. Watching you twist. Watching you scream. Watching the reasons you will invent for yourselves.”

Luna’s armor stood in a glass case in her room. Glittering silver and blue, enchanted a dozen times over.

She gave it a short glance before turning away. A young mare’s toy. Luna had been in enough battles to value her own skills over the armor’s cumbersome strength.

Even her regalia was ignored as she strode from the room. The crown and necklace, left behind. She never thought to have them rune-scribed for battle, and now it was too late.

“It isn’t fair. But life isn’t fair, now is it?”

“Like a psychopath child,” Luna grumbled as she strode down the hallway. She grinned fiercely at the guards she saw, and they took heart and smiled back.

Her long legs trembled – out of nervousness, yes, but also excitement. There would be risk today. There’d come danger and violence, and if they failed it might be the end of everything.

But there was opportunity as well. In the two years since Luna returned, she had never been so useful, never so much a princess as she would be today. This was something Celestia couldn’t sideline her from. They would work together, defeat this evil, and Celestia would see. Luna was her equal. Her sister.

It was a guilty fantasy, to be imagining the benefits of this crisis. Luna recognized that, and accepted it. Nopony’s perfect.

“For I am the Black Comet. I am the Thousand and the Zero.”

“I am the Eater of Days, The Laughing End, and a thousand other names, screamed to me by those who came before you.”

Celestia was still in bed. The last to rise, but among the first to realize not all was right in the world. She knew her dreams, and saw the nightmare was not her own.

She knew her pains, too. They were old friends after so many years, those aches in the wings and head. This pain was alien, this headache from an outside force. From the very second she roused, Celestia knew today would bring hardship.

But she lay for long moments as the pressure lessened and the voice spoke. Her mind ignored the words, instead broiling in near-panic beneath the tranquil face.

First Luna. Now this. Why did the world keep changing?

What was she doing wrong?

“Now come the bad times. The hunger times, the dark times. The grief times, the mad times, the brother-against-brother times.”

Celestia shivered, letting the tremor run through her body. Whatever this thing was, it would be strong. Perhaps stronger than she. It sounded so amused, so wickedly sure of itself.

A sigh escaped her, and she pressed her nose to the mattress. Celestia felt… thin. She felt tired and feeble, and wondered if she could match such a fiend. Maybe she couldn’t.

No! Don’t think that!

Her body convulsed with sudden energy as an opposing thought struck her. Celestia tore her head up and looked left, to the shelf above her bed.

There sat Greyfeather’s old statue. The great, wise and good Princess Celestia, standing glorious and triumphant. The unconquered, undefeatable sun. Perfect, shining and golden.

“I am her,” Celestia said lowly, and she almost believed it.

She said it again, “I am her,” and believed it enough to look away. She stood from the bed and quickly got dressed. Like Luna she shunned the heavy armor, though took a moment to don her regalia.

Rooke was there – Rooke was dead of course, but Celestia didn’t care. The ghost said nothing, silently clasping the necklace beneath her old friend’s mane.

A greater surprise came when Celestia turned to the mirror. She brought a hoof up to straighten her tiara, but her reflection made no move to follow. Celestia blinked and frowned, while the mare in the mirror smiled back sadly.

The other princess raised a hoof and gave a single, subdued wave. Celestia half-raised her own before realizing the idiocy of it. “What’s this?” she asked, more to herself than the mirror.

“This…” The image looked down, swallowed hard, and looked back up. A familiar, practiced smile was on its face. “I think this is goodbye. I don’t think we’ll be meeting again.”

Celestia jerked her head away, unwilling to respond. Unwilling to wonder at this new ghost, or the words it spoke.

Just another vision. Ignore it, ignore it…

Mentally chanting her denial, Celestia stalked from the room. Her mouth dry, her eyes like pinpricks, she strode quickly through the door and shut it behind her.

The mare’s words lingered in her mind, and Celestia shoved them away. They were wrong, she knew, for she was Princess Celestia. Perfect and golden. A new foe had arrived only to be vanquished, to learn too late the folly of threatening her routine.

No, that was wrong. Celestia hesitated before she left the parlor, trying to remember the reason. Why…?

The ponies. Of course, it’s about them. I just forgot for a moment.

She spread her wings, and even that caused the disused muscles to cramp. Celestia thought little of it, well-knowing the battle ahead would bring far greater wounds.

Maybe too many for her to survive. Maybe the reflection was right.

“So be it,” Celestia growled, bitter and tired of her doubts. They were useless. She would give battle, and what would come, would come.

She entered the throne room and put on her gentle smile for those around. Luna was there without ornament, tapping her hoof and talking lowly with the Crystal royals. Shining Armor and Cadence wore matching suits of blue armor, standing joined at the flank as they nodded to Luna’s words.

Twilight and her friends were present as well, standing halfway down the audience chamber. They laughed together at some joke told between them, though the laughter was sputtered and nervous.

All fell silent as Celestia strode in. The Elements ran forward and bowed, as did Shining and Cadence. Luna grinned at her sister, far too cheerful for the task at hoof.

She smiles because she knows I’ll protect her. Celestia nodded at the thought. She gave an appropriate little chuckle, hoping to ease their nerves. “Alright, everypony. I don’t suppose any of you have information for me?”

Luna opened her mouth, but one of Twilight’s friends was faster. The cyan pegasus flew up and posed heroically, laughing with ease. In the presence of friends and leaders, her old bravado had returned.

“Took a quick flyby,” she blurted over Luna. The princess sighed, but said nothing as the pegasus went on. “I saw what it looked like in my dream. We’re looking for something big, black, and ugly, and there’s no sign of it around Canterlot.”

“Thank you… Miss.” Celestia said it coolly, neither remembering nor caring for the mare’s name. “But I’ll also thank you not to interrupt my sister.”

The pegasus squawked and backpedaled, apologizing as Celestia sent Luna a smile.

Luna returned the gesture halfheartedly, annoyance creeping in around its edges. “It’s fine,” she grumbled. “If she offends, I can speak for myself.”

Celestia nodded. “At any rate, Luna, you were saying?”

“Everypony’s dream was different,” Luna said, wincing as she recalled the nightmares. “The beast can take different forms: some huge and destructive, others coy and cunning.”

“So it’s only sometimes big and obvious.” Shining Armor put a hoof on his chin, his captain’s mind coming to the fore. “Well it just announced its presence, so I don’t think it’s going for subtlety. Princess Luna, do we know what its weakness might be? Or maybe its origin?”

“No and no,” Luna sighed. “Many dreams showed its victims giving resistance, but nothing they did seemed to matter. Nor do I know its source. It came from some reality far removed from our own, but that doesn’t tell us a weakness.”

“Do you know what it wants?” Celestia ventured.

Luna gave a humorless smirk and nodded, her voice laden with contempt. “You heard the thing speak. As dire as it all was to hear, the monster was teasing us. Calling us ‘playthings.’ It’s like an evil child, torturing insects for no reason but twisted amusement.”

“A child,” Twilight mused, frowning at the conclusion. “And we’re the insects.”

“No we are not.”

Celestia’s voice. They looked to her, knowing the next part would be encouragement. Mere words. Yet they waited anxiously for those words, knowing they came from Princess Celestia. She smiled distantly at their attention, seeing the cyan pegasus come to earth, and even the noisy pink one hold her breath. Cadence, too – she and Celestia were equals now, but that didn’t extend beyond the title.

They looked at her, and they saw Princess Celestia. Perfect and golden. She wouldn’t fail.

“It is a child,” Celestia announced, reproving her student’s doubt. “And I am an adult.”

Twilight’s orange friend cracked one hoof into the other, smiling angrily. “Ah reckon that makes us’ns the mean-ass babysitters.”

Celestia laughed measuredly at the joke, drawing a loaded glance from Luna. But the others were pleased. Shining and Cadence glanced to each other and smiled, quietly sharing their reassurance at the good humor. The orange one grinned and slapped hooves with Twilight, all six friends chattering at once.

The rainbow-haired pegasus was the first to break the levity, taking back to the air with agitated beats of her wings. “So we’re gonna kick its butt, I get that. But how do we find it?”

“Easily.”

The voice was neither loud nor angry, yet they flinched at its word. Though smooth and civil as ever, though devoid of its bird-laughs and buzzing throb, it was no less fearsome. Like the sound itself held a taste of the thing’s evil.

The ponies turned to the entrance and saw it, both less and more frightening than their visions. Here was no great mass of tendrils. Nor could it be a smooth deceiver, for they knew its danger. Here was merely the queer card player, with its dapper white clothes and black faceless head. It held a white cane, tapping the floor in slow beat with its steps.

They could feel it as well as see it. Like some sixth sense was screaming a warning, setting their primal fears on edge. Teeth bit lips and hooves pawed the ground as each pony fought down an instinctive panic.

It was more than fear of the battle to come, far more than the nightmares or the sight of the thing. Something very real scratched at their courage, and that thing was Evil. The purest, blackest evil, utter anathema to all they lived for. They felt its agelessness, its timelessness so great as to make even Celestia seem a newborn.

The words it spoke earlier echoed through their minds. Reason? There was none. How small they were, before the yawning infinity that was Evil! All their works and loves, glories and Harmony, all these things were a pinprick before the roiling blackness. The ponies’ two thousand years of history would be obliterated without a backwards glance, and everything they built and knew would be lost forever.

Such was the horrid screaming of their instincts as the thing drew closer with each tap of the cane. Their hearts raced and hooves shook as the panic rose to a fever pitch. The urge to flee became almost unbearable. To flee and leave the others to die, forsaking love and friendship for the useless, short-lived inventions they were.

“Click.”

A new sound came, interrupting the cane’s rhythmic stride. Celestia had taken a step down from her throne, setting a gold-shod hoof to the tiled floor. Then another step. And more, carrying her to stand before the others. Even Luna couldn’t bring herself to follow, shaken by the fearful whirlwind thrust upon her.

It did not show on Celestia’s face, but she felt it as sharply as any of them. The horrific certainty emanating from the beast was compounding with her bedroom fears – of not being up to the task, of being too worn and weak to meet the threat. That her perfection was an illusion, that “Princess Celestia” was nothing more than the short-lived words of a moribund race.

Yet the fear gripped her more weakly than the others. If the frightful instinct was a whirlwind, her mind was a gnarled oak: thick and unbending, even as it faced the apocalypse.

The world may end. That was true, but there were so many truths in her joyless reign that this one could not even excite her. She would manage it as well as she could, just like the countless others. Pay debts quickly. Judge with a mind towards harmony above legalese. Laugh at ponies’ jokes so they feel happy.

They would battle, her and the fiend. She would either win, or she would not. Only one would become truth, and Celestia feared nothing for the outcome.

She smiled thinly upon realizing this, wondering if she finally found her elusive perfection. To be so detached from it all… isn’t that the way the statue was? A plaster ideal, rather than a mare of lusts and fears?

Maybe this was a great day. Maybe she was finally perfect, just as she always should have been.

“What do we call you?” she asked the creature, both impatient to fight and reluctant to begin. It was electric, this feeling of ascendancy, and she savored it. Yes, Celestia was becoming perfect. She was leaving her childish, stupid feelings behind.

She almost laughed at her victory. This thing was terror incarnate, yet she was not afraid! What else was possibly there to fear? She had conquered it! She had conquered Sombra and Nightmare Moon, Rooke and her own damn reflection. None of them could possibly unnerve her again, not after she faced such a beast without flinching!

It stopped walking, turning its eyeless sight to her.

“I don’t have a ‘what.’” It chuckled in a pony’s voice. “‘Absalom’ is what the last ones called me. I like it, for the word means nothing else. But you may call me as you will.”

“Very well.” Celestia closed her eyes and nodded in brief acknowledgement. This was it. What would come, would come.

Her eyes opened, and even those behind her saw the shock brightness emerge. “I’ll call you, ‘Dust.’”

Whiteness and heat surrounded her, and Celestia struck. Blazing magic lanced from her horn, hitting the fiend in its head. The white derby turned to ash and it staggered backwards.

The light faded and Absalom stood, its fine suit in tatters. Its head tilted unnaturally to the right, and a hole appeared where its eyes should be. Like tearing rubber, the opening ripped smoothly from one end of the face to the other.

Celestia thought it was injured until she saw the teeth. The tear twisted upwards in a wide smile that stretched the width of the head, showing rows of jagged fangs. Another mouth formed at its chin, and more opened across the body, ripping the suit as easily as the skin.

Celestia made to fire again, but her younger sister moved first. Anxious both to prove herself and smite the foe, Luna’s attack forsook precision for power. Like a curving blade, her blue, star-flecked magic swept upwards before slamming down into the creature.

Absalom disappeared in the wave. Its arm ripped off and flew to the side, still clutching the white cane. When the attack ended, nothing else of the gangly form could be seen.

Of the ten ponies – four alicorns, a lover, and five very close friends – not one of them were so foolish as to think the fight over. The instinctive dread still gripped their hearts. And on the blasted tiles, Absalom’s shadow remained. Its long fingers reached up to where the hat still rested in blackened image.

It tipped the hat and grinned, white teeth shimmering from the shadow. The whole form then grew like spreading ink, widening and deepening and losing all consistency. There was no more hat, cane or fingers. Just a white-fanged mouth among the blackness. Then a dozen mouths, then a hundred.

Like a horrid geyser, it erupted. Floor tiles, then the ceiling exploded as a slimy, ropey black tendril sprouted in the blink of an eye. It soared up through the palace roof, a thousand mouths unleashing a cawing laughter as they writhed to the clouds.

Below, there was panic. Thousands of ponies, already shaken by nightmares and voices, looked up to see the evil thing rise from Canterlot Castle. They stared in horror, wondering if the palace's demise heralded their own.

Such thoughts were beyond the ten ponies. Indeed, two of them would fast contribute to the destruction. Shining and Cadence were the first to react, touching their horns in instinctive unity. Cadence’s love poured into Shining’s magic, and in an instant a pink shield interposed itself below the falling rubble. It expanded in the second instant, blowing over the neighboring walls and ceilings. Shining knew they would need room to maneuver, and their shared power made it so.

With two sweeps of their wings, Celestia and Luna took to the air. Twilight braced on the ground with her friends, her magic clicking the Elements of Harmony to their necks. The six took their traditional formation – a half-circle behind Twilight – and smiled with shared confidence. Already, faint threads of many colors were winding between them as the Elements began their magic.

The formation scattered as Absalom’s first claws emerged. One on each side of the tendril, raking bony fingers to the ground they were standing on. Celestia’s throne disintegrated as tree-sized claws slashed in vain at their retreating prey.

The second hand came down over the two earth ponies, but the Crystal royals were ready. A pink bubble of energy interposed itself, drawing a grunt of exertion from the pair as they deflected the blow. The shield dented and cracked, but held firm.

Absalom’s hand closed around the bubble, puncturing inwards with its five black claws. But the would-be victims had already scampered out of the way. Shining and Cadence let the shield crumble and threw their efforts at the other claw, slashing for Luna.

For a second, it looked like they might be too late. But they weren’t – the claw impaled their shield instead of the princess, and Luna used the moment to brace herself. At her shouted command, they dismissed the barrier and she struck back with all her might. A chaotic mesh of black energy and blue lightning shot from her horn, striking the massive hand on the palm. It reeled back, smoking.

The night princess leaned back and flapped her wings, letting them open the distance between her and the monster. It was still growing – taller and taller still, carrying the two claws up with it until they reached above the castle. They were the arms of the beast, she realized, as they reared back to strike again.

Luna chanced a glance upwards. Celestia was an orange glow above her, dodging and dueling with the tip of the tendril. She was trying to stab her horn to it and deal a decisive blow, with no magic lost from the distance. The tendril slapped back and forth to ward her away, and so the two maneuvered.

“Just shoot it, Tia!” Luna shouted the words, but she doubted they were heard. A plan was in her mind for the alicorns to attack relentlessly, overwhelming the creature and counting on their innate regeneration to see them through. But they needed to coordinate, and–

The swinging claws drew her attention, interrupting the thought. The first was a very near miss – the fingers and arm seemed to stretch with the blow, turning her comfortable dodge into a desperate lunge for safety.

She barely even saw the next swipe, as it missed by full meters. Celestia had tackled her from above, shoving them both below the swing.

“Tia!” Luna half-screamed in frustration. She had planned to block and counter, then lunge for the center mass.

Instead, Tia was being herself. “Tia, don’t baby me!”

Violence ended the conversation. Absalom’s tendril came down in a swinging arc, forcing them to dive further to avoid it. It swung again, driving them lower still and annihilating the North Tower in the back-swing.

Now on level with the ruined ceiling, the pair was blinded by a sudden contrail of every color. Twilight’s friends had rallied, and unleashed the Elements of Harmony.

Perhaps they had traded encouraging words beforehand, about love conquering all and such. But the outcome was bleak. Ponies blinked away the spots in their eyes to see Absalom still there, not even discomfited by the strike. It was instead the six young mares who were staggered, some of them falling down in their daze.

Twilight’s eyes were still huge and dark, as if some part of Harmony’s magic remained inside. She stared upwards at the towering monster, mouth working dumbly.

“That’s it,” the young princess squeaked, trembling in fresh horror. “Luna, Discord… they had some good in them. Some Harmony that the Elements could use. But this thing doesn’t. It doesn’t. It… it just laughed at us.”

“Focus, Twilight!” Luna roared, willing her voice to echo with regal strength. Twilight startled and blinked, snapping out of her shock.

Rainbow shook her head wildly, keeping her eyes on the monster. “But we’re useless without–”

The lovers’ shield appeared above them, blocking a fresh slam of the tendril. Only Cadence had seen it coming. But Shining felt the danger through her, and the pair acted.

“No you’re not,” Cadence said with the stern tenderness of a mother. “Channel the Harmony through Twilight. Let it feel your hope, your feelings for each other. Let it give you strength, rather than be shot off as a weapon.”

“And Twiley’s an alicorn,” Shining added in his forthright manner. “She might not have as much experience, but she’s got to be as powerful as any of them.”

His logic was fallible, but Cadence ran with it. She brushed her nose against Twilight’s ear, giving her former charge a quick nuzzle. “Twilight, fight hard. All of you, keep faith in her. The Elements will do the rest.”

The older alicorns landed as she spoke, and Luna nodded at the words.

But Celestia’s eyes narrowed.

“You don’t know that,” she said reprovingly. Celestia stood tall, with an imperial tint in her voice that brooked no dissent. Twilight’s friends even bowed by instinct, though were jolted upright as another claw slammed against the lovers’ shield.

Twilight gave a weak smile, encouraged by her mentor’s control. “What’s the plan, Princess?”

Celestia needed no second bidding. “Twilight, take your friends and fall back. Same to you two.” She nodded towards Shining Armor and Cadence. “Luna, cover them. I’ll handle this.”

The others’ nods caught halfway down as Luna interjected. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Celestia was as surprised as any of them at the words, and matched eyes with Luna. Her own was a familiar expression – veiled annoyance at the younger sister’s antics. Luna’s face was far more open with its frustration.

While Celestia hesitated, Luna pressed the issue. “We need to work together.”

“Do we?” Celestia asked icily, then winced. That sounded impatient. Not perfect.

“Yes!” Luna shouted, anger flaring. She hated this. They should be planning and launching their next move, not debating the fool point while the others looked on like frightened children.

No choice. “Tia, there’s no need for you to go alone.”

“I’ve always been alone,” Celestia shot back.

“No you haven’t.”

Celestia huffed through her nose, glancing away. They both knew Luna was right. The two had shared much in their youth. Good times, bad times, and a love that was no longer requited.

Luna was right. But those times had passed long ago. Celestia sniffed and arched her nose, ending the debate. “I’m trying to protect you all. Now follow my orders.”

“You don’t order me!” Luna stood her ground, despairing at the fresh rift between them.

“Then support me at long range, but stay safe.” Celestia’s words were acid, offering poor compromise as she returned to the sky. Luna’s wings flared, ready to follow after.

A glance to the side arrested her flight. The others were milling uselessly, exchanging confused and worried looks. Only Cadence still watched the battle, planning the placement of her next shield.

“I mean, she’s right.” Rainbow gave a depressed sigh. “Seriously, what was our Plan B? Think good thoughts and hope something happens?”

“It was the best I could think of.” Cadence turned her head to them, matching the sigh. “I thought the Elements might be able to strengthen you somehow. It’s dumb, I know. We’ve never seen them work that way.“

“No, no, the theory’s sound.” Twilight patted Cadence on the shoulder, then used the hoof to pull her further from the tendril’s base. “But come on, let’s get out of–”

A gagged cry came from above. Heads shot up and Cadence gasped, realizing her distraction had been costly. Celestia had dueled with her horn again, but found herself matched against both claws and the slapping tendril. Two were dodged, but a sharpened thumb had caught her on the knee.

A small object fell to the ground. A white foreleg, that shattered wetly as it met the gilded tiles.

Celestia followed a moment later, winging earthwards in desperate dodge. She crashed in a heap before her student, sending dust and crumpled plaster up around her.

Twilight gagged, bile rising to her throat at the awful sight. Celestia’s right front leg was now a cracked and jagged piece of bone, sticking out from its cushion of muscle and fat. Shredded pieces fell to the ground as she twitched, letting the blood squirt from her wound with each beat of the heart.

A pathetic mewl came from Twilight’s throat. She had seen Celestia defeated, but never like this. Her loving, kindly mentor, so… maimed.

Twilight’s head swayed. Her vision blurred, and she welcomed the escape.

A stern voice cut through the horror, sounding only terse and annoyed. “I will be fine, Twilight. I am not so weak.”

Twilight blinked and looked again. Already, the bleeding had stopped. The jagged bone was now rounded, and perhaps an inch of the limb had grown back. With only a wince and a groan, Celestia rose to stand on her remaining legs.

Intellectually, Twilight knew she likely had the same power. But she beamed at her teacher, her faith restored. Princess Celestia had it under control, as always.

“Tia…” Luna said worriedly. She saw the worshiping look in Twilight’s eyes and hoped to death Celestia didn’t.

Celestia didn’t notice, and she didn’t hear. Her attention was on the foe.

So massive. The tendril’s growing had slowed, but hadn’t stopped. Maybe it never would.

For one second, Celestia’s courage departed in a violent shudder. She wasn’t ageless, like this thing was. She was just old. Her wings cramped from exertion. The wound was grinding in its pain. Even her horn throbbed from the channeled power. Magic was a muscle, just like those wings, and she well-knew that hers was a withered remnant. Long years of peace had doused her fiery strength to a candle of its former glory.

Yet even that candle could burn the world.

The shudder ended. She was Princess Celestia again. Old, yes, but there was strength in that weathered age. Youthful adrenaline had been replaced by a proud willingness to suffer and strike. She ignored the pain. She would ignore all the pain to come.

Celestia caught the look Twilight was giving her, and nodded. Yes. I’ll protect you.

I am Princess Celestia. And that still counts for something.

“All of you, retreat.” A distracted order, and she was aloft.

This time, Luna waited a fast second before speaking. Long enough for Celestia to pass out of earshot.

“Cadence, Shining. Cover Tia. I’m going to hit it low.”

Eight heads snapped towards her, and Shining offered a dull protest. “But she said–”

“Damn it, Prince,” Luna snarled, shaking her head wildly. They had no time for this. “You all can think for yourselves! She needs us, whether she admits it or not.”

“But the Elements–” Rainbow began.

“Make it work!” Luna’s frustrated roar marked her return to the air. No time. She’d just have to hope they followed her lead.

The sprouting had ended. Absalom’s legs rose from the ground – clawed and bent sharply like a grasshopper’s. It stood tall above the palace, silhouetted by the rising sun. Huge and horrible. A monster of darkest nightmares, a monster to end the world.

Before it, invisible within her white shield, Celestia flew.

She was tired. She was afraid. She was so afraid, and she hated it.

She clung hard to that hate, willing it upwards to mask her fear. She called it forth in searing orange lances at her foe. Scorching the hands that grasped for her, and the tendril-head that whipped.

Princess Celestia. Perfect, shining, golden.

It was a lie. She was weak, and she was fearful. She was a madmare who talked with the dead. She would never be perfect, never be free of them. A thousand years from now, Sombra would still haunt her. With Rooke, Nightmare Moon, and all the rest waiting in the wings.

To an observer, to Twilight’s worshipful eyes, she was at the apex of her glory. Swift and agile, deftly avoiding every blow and returning with her own. She scorched and burned, blasting away chunks of the oily flesh with its laughing mouths. They giggled, they taunted, and the only response was her grim silence and fiery magic. It was evil, mighty, but she was Celestia!

…She was tired.

A massive hand struck her, but Celestia curled inwards, dexterously avoiding the seeking claws. Mouths within the palm opened themselves to bite, but in her curl Celestia had led with the sun-charged horn. She exploded out the other side of the hand, dealing Absalom its first telling wound of the battle. There was too little left of the palm to support its claws. The remaining flesh ripped apart and the digits tumbled, crashing to the city below. A million mouths screamed in unison as the creature jerked what was left of its hand backwards.

Its blood washed over Celestia, and for a second all thought was driven from her mind. It was black and oily, splattering across her flesh and drawing smoke where it touched.

Her mouth shot open in a sudden gag, hatefully letting the black blood hit her tongue and lips. It burned. And it froze. And every other awful sensation she could imagine was set on fire. Sting, pierce, itch, ache, cramp, rend, stab, stab, stab all over. The fluid clung, seeping to her scalp and eyes, drooling to her privates and hooves. It even curled up into her wound, entering her blood through the still-open stump.

Her great will collapsed, and Celestia added her own to the screaming mouths. Stab, stab, stab all over…

“Tia!”

That voice. She was in so much pain that she couldn’t even see, yet she knew the voice.

“Luna, get back!” Celestia accelerated, winging away some of the blood. It helped. She hurt, but she could focus. She could push it to the back of her mind.

Go away! I can handle this.

She was too busy to say it. She dodged and sped still faster. Too late did her blurry vision warn her of the descending tendril.

It never connected. A pink shield flared to life above her, blocking the strike.

Cadence, Shining, you too? Go away!

Don’t protect me. It cannot kill me.

I am Celestia.

Tears smoked from her eyes. She spun up and around the creature, sending another sun-bolt to the tip of its tendril.

You shouldn’t have to do this. It should be me.

A sharp cry sounded as the stump-claw battered Luna. Some of its blood spattered to the blue-feathered wings, sending her careening backwards in sudden agony.

I’m sorry. If I was perfect, you wouldn’t be in pain. But I’ll never be perfect. I’ll keep making idiot mistakes. I’ll keep having these idiot feelings.

I tried so hard to be perfect. What am I missing? What am I doing wrong?

When Cadence blocked the whipping head a second time, it changed. Absalom’s one tendril split into a dozen with an awful tear. It seemed more self-mutilation than metamorphosis – bulbous flesh could be seen beneath, and its awful blood rained down on the ponies below. Cadence screamed in pain at the oily splash, and the dozen tendrils lunged for her.

Purple magic flared, and she vanished just before they connected.

Even you, Twilight?

No. Run, all of you. Else you’ll die.

Let me take this. All the pain. I can take it.

I am Celestia. I won’t die. Tartarus rejected me.

Forsaking all subtlety and maneuver, Celestia descended towards the creature’s center like a comet. The stump-hand slapped her away, and all she did was scorch its wrist.

One of the tendrils had enwrapped Luna, and was biting at her with a dozen mouths. But the night princess shook free, using the close-quarters to stab her horn and unleash a spell within its body. The tendril exploded, and Luna winged away.

Damn it Luna, you’ll die! You need to leave this to me.

I’ll never die. The judge said it, I don’t get to die.

Celestia was tired. Every flap of the wings brought a fresh hell. She could feel the black oil climb through her blood from the open wound. It reached her heart, and set it afire.

She didn’t scream. The ponies mustn’t hear her scream.

She ascended above the creature, preparing to strike as a meteor once more. It was all she could think to do. Attack with every ounce of strength, leaving nothing for maneuver or defense.

Sped by her magic, the white comet once more made its unsubtle assault. This time the creature was distracted, its claw scratching a purple shield that appeared before Cadence.

Celestia connected at the middle of Absalom’s height. Such was her force that a white shockwave shot out from the impact, knocking the airborne ponies backwards. The monster staggered, bending its massive frame to almost a right angle as it absorbed the blow.

Rancid flesh and gibbering mouths exploded at her aura’s touch. Even its blood boiled to nothing before hitting Celestia, caught by the full force of her magic.

The creature was so tall, it was easy to forget it was thick as well. Celestia stabbed deep within it in her charge, using herself as a fiery lance. The daylight vanished behind her, and all she saw was the flame and the foe.

Even here, there were mouths. On every new patch of flesh that became exposed, they laughed and snapped at her.

No matter. She was too fast, and her aura too hot, for them to be a danger.

But she was slowing. The beast had mystic strength of its own, and the going grew harder and harder. The black blood was still burning within her chest. With every flinch, with every breathy gasp of pain, she could feel her aura lessen.

All the same, she had strength – great strength – as she came to Absalom’s heart.

There was no chamber for it. Another layer of fat and mouths burned away, and there laid the beating mound. The black vessels were as serpentine coils, twisting around each other and thrumming with a steady pace.

Celestia could only see a fragment of it, at the end of her scorched tunnel. But she knew what it was. And she knew that what came next would hurt, though the thought didn’t slow her. The battered, weakened remnant of her aura focused to the size of a needle and shot to the heart.

With the defense gone, more pain arrived. The blood dripped down onto her. The mouths puckered forth from their fleshy mounts, biting with rapier teeth into her wings and legs.

Her brilliant white spark struck the heart, and their magic touched. Celestia knew an instant of strange awareness, seeing Absalom stand before her as the tall biped once more.

There was no time for any exchange of ideas. No time for taunts or shouts of defiance. All that happened in that instant was another tearing of its rubbery face, creating a mouth that grinned.

The instant ended. A deep wound was blown in the heart, and its blood shot out like a fire hose. The awful tide engulfed Celestia, sending her careening back until she slammed into flesh.

The tunnel had closed behind her. Absalom’s body was already knitting back together. The rising pressure kept her pinned to the edge, helpless against the chewing mouths.

The pain stopped. Maybe the wicked blood had burned out her senses. It washed her lungs through the open mouth, and seeped in through the bites in her flesh. She could only distantly feel an ear rip off, and holes be chewed in her wings and belly.

Yet outweighing these dull sensations was the heartbeat. Not hers, but Absalom’s, echoing rhythmically through the submerged, sealed cavern.

She failed. It was a dazed and sleepy thought. Like she was dreaming it all.

The cavern abruptly contracted, forcing her body into motion. Dimly, Celestia wondered at it before realizing she was moving away from the heart. Absalom’s flesh was squeezing her out like a splinter.

I can’t defeat it.

Her thoughts were clear, but numb. She had no emotion to give them. They were just words. Just facts.

I’m going to die. Right now, I’m dying. Princess Celestia is about to die.

Strange, but she didn’t even feel her usual pains. No headache, no wing cramps. Even the evil blood no longer hurt her.

This is dying? It’s kind of–

She saw the blue sky. And then she saw the ruined castle, a mile below.

With a wet squelch, the wound closed, shoving her out to the air.

Her limp body made no move to correct the fall. She faintly heard a voice scream, and another bark a command. Twilight’s yellow friend and her blue one flew beneath Celestia, each with hooves outstretched to catch her.

They didn’t know about Absalom’s blood. They touched her soaked body and recoiled, limbs blazing with the awful pain. Celesta fell past them, tumbling as she went.

She saw them give chase. Even knowing the blood’s pain, they dove for her.

They were good ponies. She gave them a placid smile.

Then they vanished. Celestia numbly felt the space shift beneath her, and realized she had been teleported. Twilight’s purple aura shimmered, easing Celestia the last few feet to the ground.

“Tia!” Luna’s voice came out like breaking glass. She landed next to Celestia, eyes wide and wet. Desperate grief was written on her face.

For me?

No need, Luna. I feel good.

Celestia rose from the ground. Ponies gasped – not in relief, but horror. They saw what Celestia didn’t. The black blood that flooded her was sloughing off, and only more of it lay beneath. As if it had already melted everything inside. Her white coat was sliding down like a rotten rag, with only bone and black underneath.

Yet she rose, not even glancing to her vanishing flesh.

Tia turned a slow head to her sister. And she smiled – a simple smile, straight from the heart.

A second passed and there was no smile. Just a leering skeleton, that stood for another instant before crumbling to the ground. The bones clacked wetly in the pooling black, followed by Celestia’s crown and necklace.

Twilight screamed. Her face contorted in wild grief, her faith crushed in its zenith. She tried to leap to Celestia’s bones, but Rainbow shouted a warning and Applejack held her back. The blood would burn her as surely as her mentor.

Luna only saw that in the corner of her eye. She didn’t see where Shining and Cadence went, and she didn’t care to look.

It was a strange fury that gripped her heart, that sent her to headlong charge against Absalom. Her mind turned to how much she had wanted this battle. Where she was supposed to impress Tia, and the two would be sisters again. Her rage was as much for herself as the fiend.

Tia… she was mad at Tia as well. Luna had tried so hard to make her smile, and this brought it out? Tia finally smiled for this?

Luna pitied her. And she hated her. Hated that Tia had felt like that. Hated that it might end today. That their parting was final, and all Luna’s hopes of reclaiming their old love were in vain.

“Come back, Tia.” Luna whispered the words. She tried to keep her anger hot, tried to channel it into her strike. But the blue lightning only scorched Absalom’s hide, and its many mouths grinned.

It was dark here. Wherever “here” was.

Celestia stood, though she didn’t remember getting up. Nor did she know what she was standing on, for there seemed nothing else here but her. Just darkness, without even a floor beneath.

She took a step forward. No ground, but at least she could walk.

Her head lolled to one side as she took a second step. It felt heavy. Too heavy to keep upright.

Heavy… tired…

Sleep claimed her for an instant, and she jerked her head back up. Celestia was aware. She remembered, though the memories were confused and uncertain. They were fighting something large, her and Luna. And Twilight was there, as were her brother and Cadence. And Twilight’s friends.

Something large, something evil… a yawn interrupted her thoughts. Celestia couldn’t remember the details. Was it large like a tree, or a mountain? It was probably more the latter, since it took her leg with just one claw.

The thought made her glance down. All four hooves were there. For whatever it was worth, she was whole.

…No she wasn’t. She remembered the acidic blood. It devoured her until nothing remained.

Nothing but a skeleton. She was dead.

Princess Celestia had died.

She lifted her head, fighting the drowsy weight around her neck. She tried to growl in defiance, but it came out a bleary garble. It was all so muddled, but Celestia knew she had to go back. Because…

Because…

The dead princess shook her head. There were reasons. She knew there were reasons.

She scrunched her eyes closed, hissing through her teeth. Trying to remember. There was a flag, and a city on a mountain. They were hers, whatever they were called. Was that why? Did they call her back?

Celestia stumbled a third step, wobbling and groaning. No, neither of them beckoned her. The flag and the city… she remembered they hurt. The candle smoke stung her eyes as she toiled into the night. Sore eyes, and for some reason she remembered sore wings. And a sore back, from always sitting upright in the throne.

But there was more than the city, wasn’t there? Celestia breathed out through pursed lips, looking upwards as she wondered.

Faces. She could remember faces. Ponies.

Too many to count. Too many to care for. Old faces, young faces, and young-turned-old faces.

There was a deep-blue mare. An alicorn, and she felt familiar. Luna. But it was a face and a name, with only the barest threads of memory connecting them. Celestia didn’t recall anything else. Maybe she wasn’t even right.

She shivered. It frightened her, all this forgetting. She knew she had to go back. But why?

Celestia blinked, a new thought emerging. Maybe there was no “why.”

Why? And why should I? To her befuddled mind, it was a valid question. It was nice here. The air was warm like a quilt blanket, soothing away her aches. She knew she’d forgotten so much already, but that felt good! Why remember? She could vaguely recall how bad it was. How sick and sore and tired she was.

Maybe she forgot the reason. Maybe there wasn’t one. Celestia didn’t care. As sleepy as she was, she felt so light. She felt relieved, and only grew more so as the memories faded. They were slipping away like water between her hooves, and she stopped trying to keep them in.

Twilight Sparkle? Red pony, blue pony, she didn’t know any more.

Luna? Was that a pony or a city?

Celestia?

She shoved the name away, even tried to convince herself that it was another. Of course she wasn’t Celestia. Celestia was perfect, immortal.

Celestia…

The word itself faded. She threw her head back and laughed. Three short “Ha’s,” with the last one trailing off.

She grinned. She had won. She couldn’t remember what she won, but it made her happy.

After the laughs, she yawned and staggered a step backwards. She was sleepy. And why not sleep? If she was needed, if she had a reason to return, that was too bad. She was dead, and could do nothing more.

“You’re lying.” The voice whispered once in the dark, and Celestia didn’t recognize it as her own. She ignored it. She didn’t know what she was lying about, and in another moment she forgot it ever spoke.

Smiling, she curled her legs and settled herself. There was no floor, but a strange weightlessness let her lie down. The warm air embraced her, soothing out the last of the pains and thoughts.

Celestia chuckled once more, turned to her side, and faded to peaceful slumber.

Author's Notes:

I am humbled and grateful that the general response to the last chapter was, "It sucks, but I still believe in you, man." It is very gratifying as an author to have built that degree of goodwill, and I shall endeavor not to disappoint.

I'll also try to get the next one up asap.