“Once more, I must ride with my knights.
To defend what was, and the dream of what might be.”

-King Arthur, in Excalibur

A glittering, beautiful city on a mountain. But the city was falling, its great towers shattering to ruin. Ponies across the land looked up and despaired, seeing its place taken by the whip-headed Doom. Those who saw it gibbered, fled and prayed. Some even rallied to fight back, but they mattered not. The chance for salvation had passed. The massive fiend raised one high, grasshopper-like leg and began striding down from the mountain to the defenseless world below.

Celestia – not that she remembered the name – barely opened her eyes. A grim dream, but it troubled her little. The city meant nothing. Maybe it did once, but not anymore.

She did not even know why the dream roused her, or how long she had been sleeping. It couldn’t have been long. If anything, she was even sleepier than before. Her cloudy, befuddled mind felt only annoyance at the interruption.

Seeing no reason to keep them open, Celestia closed her eyes. Within a second, she slept once more.

A desperate battle among a city’s gilded spires. Three alicorns flittered around the great fiend, pressing their exhausted magic against its ropey flesh. They were losing, and as they shared looks they could see it in each other’s eyes.

The purple one was the first to fall. One of the beast’s massive tendrils smashed her from the sky, leaving her with broken wings and ribs. She cried feebly on the ground, unthinking and unknowing as two friends stood above her. An orange earth pony and a yellow pegasus, without an ounce of magic between them. Nothing guarded the three but luck, and whatever Grace the world had left.

It had none. They flinched, but did not flee as the same tendril snapped towards them.

This time Celestia awoke with a gasp, bringing her long neck up to look around. A name was half-formed on her lips. Twi… Twi-something.

Immediately, her head drooped again. With the initial shock passed, she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

But even with the lids shut and her head lolling, she wondered. She couldn’t remember. But at the same time, she could. It was like trying to dredge a childhood memory: so hard to recall, yet so certainly a part of her. She knew that she knew.

Celestia clenched her teeth, trying to clear the cobwebs from her brain. The names, the reasons… they were in there somewhere.

No good. She was too tired. When sleep came again to her mind, she let it in.

The blue princess was fighting. Fighting so very hard, with the speed of wings and strength of magic. Veering around the seeking black tendrils, lashing out with bolts of blue lighting.

A dozen tendrils chased her, and with angelic grace she evaded each one. Dodging and tumbling through the air, always just the barest step ahead of danger. She was sweating, panting, yet striking back with every chance.

She fought alone against the fiend, and its every act was bent on slaying her. She dodged a hundred blows, yet there was always another on the last one’s heels. Her starry magic scored deep wounds into the beast’s rubbery hide, but it gave no sign of discomfort.

The mare’s tongue flapped from the side of her mouth. Her endurance was ending. She turned to disengage, and gasped; more tendrils had swung wide, blocking her retreat. Blue wings frantically tried to carry her past, but she had grown too slow. One of the smaller tendrils caught her back hoof, and two more wrapped around her chest.

They squeezed. Bones broke. The mare cried out – a garbled, deathly scream cut short.

“Luna!” Celestia’s head rose once more. This time she held it upwards, gazing out as though she could still see the dream.

Luna. Sister. She remembered that much.

They need me. She needs me. The thoughts were nearly lost in her bleary mind. Celestia could not even say who “they” were. Only that she was needed.

They always needed her. The ponies. Yes, they were the “they.” She was important to them, and to Luna, too.

Celestia’s head tilted downwards. Her mouth hung open and her eyes blinked slowly. Sleepier than ever, she felt her consciousness begin to fade even with her head still upright.

Her mind began closing. Her head sank further, and her thoughts became scattered, wispy things.

But her forehoof moved. Leaden though it felt, it slowly righted itself on the ground.

She was needed. She couldn’t sleep, she was needed.

The leg stretched, and its neighbor followed suit. Like she was doing a slow push-up. She held up her head and breathed sharply, trying to rouse her addled mind. Instead, the warm air reminded her. How nice it was, just to lie down and sleep…

No, she had to go back. She was Celestia. She remembered now. The thoughts were drowsy and distant, but she remembered it all.

They need her. They need her now, before those dreams become truth. Her back legs pushed, raising her body to the air. She wobbled like an infant, and her neck swayed as she forced it aloft.

She shook her head, hard as she could. The sleepiness weighed upon her, but she was awake. She righted her stance and stood tall, Princess Celestia once more.

Around her, the darkness seemed less absolute than before. Like it was painted black, rather than true nothingness.

Celestia’s mane flowed limply in a dozen strands. One drifted across her vision, and her eyes followed it. Rather than her normal colors, these strands held faded greens and pinks, almost lost to the greyness eating them. They hung lifelessly, each hair the thin, wiry mess of an old mare.

She gave a tiny, tired smile to the errant strand and brushed it from her face.

“Alright,” she said, keeping the smile raised. “It’s time to go back.”

The first step was hard. As she took it, a chill wind cut through the comforting warmth. A familiar ache gripped her wings, and she knew the rest would be no easier.

No help for it. Celestia took the second step. The air grew even colder, causing her to flinch back. Candle-smoke aches pressed in on her eyes, and a dull throb returned to the head. A shiver ran the breadth of her body, drawing a husky growl from her lips.

Yet the ground under her hooves remained warm. Pleasantly so, and she knew that if she lay down it would cover her like a blanket again.

It wouldn’t be giving up. Just a short rest.

Just for a moment.

A little nap.

No. A third step. Then a forth. Her head was arched high, as Celestia-like as she could be. Her pace became steady as she grew used to the cold. The little aches in her wings and head worsened, but they were merely the return of old friends. She would endure.

She must have said so aloud, for a question came out from the darkness. “But why?”

Sombra’s voice. Celestia wasn’t even surprised.

“Because they need me.” Her words were soft. Celestia stopped, but her body remained facing away. Only her head turned to him as he stepped forward, perfectly visible despite the surrounding gloom.

“So?” he grumbled. Sombra slapped his hoof upwards, just as he always did when irate.

“So I’m going back,” Celestia said. Her old, worn smile was back in its place. “I’m needed.”

Sombra’s hoof swept back and forth, his voice carrying a frustrated growl. “Is that all? Celestia, why? You were happy!”

Celestia sniffed. “I’ll be happy when I’ve defeated the–”

“Spare me!”

The frustration on Sombra’s face turned to rage in an instant. The outburst stopped her, and he pressed his opening. “You’re a ‘good princess,’ yes, I get it. You’ve worn it on your fetlock for ten hundred years.”

“Ten hundred years of peace,” Celestia parried, controlling her voice to its serene norm.

“And that was good!” Sombra’s voice changed. He was raising his hoof again, but a pleading tinge had entered his words. “Great, even! You’ve done a thing never done on this planet. Maybe not ever! That’s enough, that’s good enough. They’ll have to find their own way. You can’t protect them forever.”

…Not forever?

No. Of course I can.

Celestia sighed and looked away. She stepped past without a word, and he made no move to follow.

After a few more paces, she turned her head back. Sombra was still there, eyes downcast. His frown twitched and he kicked the ground, looking for all the world like a rejected suitor.

The thought brought an old question to her mind, and she smiled weakly. “Sombra?”

He looked up, his face returning to its old sternness. “Hm?”

Celestia swallowed and went on, her dark eyes never drifting from his. “I want to know. When you… when you changed. When you became that red-horned monster and did so many terrible things. I want to know if that was really you. If…”

She sniffed wetly, though her glassy eyes remained fixed. “If the Sombra I loved had really betrayed me. Or if he loved me still, until that monster devoured him.”

Sombra grimaced. He turned his head from her, raising his nose. “Why ask me? You don’t even know what I really am. At best, I’m a dead ghost. At worst, a delusion. Either way, my words can hardly be taken as fact.”

“All the same, I would hear you tell me.” Celestia said it softly, meekly, through a tiny smile.

Sombra was silent for a moment. He glanced to and from her before settling his gaze away. His mouth worked, and he stuttered a few times before getting it out. “I…”

A final pause, then he looked back to her. His eyes were glossy, his lips turned to a frown far softer than their norm.

“I tried to become an alicorn.” He muttered, mouth twisting up in a wry smile. “To be your equal. Using demon magic. It didn’t go as planned, obviously.”

His voice grew stronger as he continued, his eyes looking back with wet-eyed clarity. “But yes, I loved you. I loved you so much. When the dark thing ripped me from my body and cast me aside, I had seconds to live. I spent them thinking of our first dance.”

Celestia’s gaze finally broke. She swept her head away, flinging tears to the ground. “I’m so sorry.”

“Well don’t pity me!” A sharp, uncharacteristic laugh belted from Sombra’s throat. He was smiling through his own tears, walking backwards away from her.

“You especially, don’t pity me,” he finished softly, disappearing into the dark. “I had what I longed for, and threw it away. We are the same.”

And then he was gone.

Celestia walked on. She wasn’t sleepy anymore, but a thousand little nits remained. Her wings ached. Her head hurt. Her back swayed like an old nag’s, pinching her spine whenever she tried to keep it straight.

But the pace sped. These were familiar pains, much as they weighed her down. Worse was the chill in her limbs. Worse than that was a growing weight in her head, seeming to pull it downwards. She was awake, but her limbs were so tired, and the ground warm on her hooves…

I could lie down. Just a short rest.

Celestia shook her head. No rest. She was needed. No matter what Sombra said. He talked of her being happy here. What nonsense! How could she be happy with Equestria under threat?

The space around her was grey now. Still, Celestia only saw the black figure as it drew close.

Nightmare Moon approached her head-on. It carried an indignant snarl on its lips, and shouted its challenge without ceremony. “Come on, Tia.”

It walked the last few paces and reached a hoof out to her. Celestia flinched, but there was no violence in the touch. Just a push on the shoulder.

“Look at you.” It went on, sounding more like an angry sister than a monster. Its brow was upturned as if in worry, and that loud, regal voice was devoid of humor. “You look awful, you feel awful, and you’re jumping back into it. For what?”

“The ponies,” Celestia said, smiling as best as she could.

“Ah, yes,” Nightmare Moon growled, its tone turning bitter. “The precious little ponies who never did you any favors.”

“They need me,” Celestia replied. Still serene, still smiling.

Nightmare Moon gave a harsh laugh and spun away. “They’ll always need you. They’ll always need somepony to make the nasty problems go away so they can get on with their meaningless lives. You’ve been their sucker, don’t you see? It’s time to do something for yourself for once.”

Star Swirl’s old words sprang to mind, and Celestia spoke them out. “It’s not about me.”

“The hell it isn’t,” Nightmare Moon snapped, turning back. “Tia, it is about you, and you know why? Because you’ve already given them everything. You don’t owe them. If anything, they owe you! So stop it with the goody two-hooves routine and take a load off. It’s nice here.”

“It’s cold,” Celestia said.

“Not on the ground.” Nightmare Moon tapped a hoof and smiled. A kindly smile, hiding its fangs. “You know how it feels. Like the air around you is warm like a heated blanket, soothing your body and letting you drift off. No more nightmares this time. Just sleep. You want to forget me, remember?” It gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Well you can. Isn’t that great?”

Celestia started walking again, past the other mare. “Why do you all want me to stay?”

“Because it felt good,” Nightmare Moon called after her, a note of pleading entering its voice. “All that weight was finally off your shoulders. Would it really be so selfish of you to stay? To be without pain, without damned regrets, for the first time in forever?”

Celestia was nothing if not patient, but the words pricked her anger. She turned her head back, fixing the dark sister with a glare.

The burst of anger waned as the ghost met her eyes. Nightmare Moon gazed back glumly, like a discarded friend.

Celestia grimaced, wishing this the old Nightmare instead. With its cruel taunts, at least she could bite back. But not with this one, this strange, earnest sibling.

“Sister, why do you want me to die?” Celestia asked, and she felt more assured for saying it out loud. As well-intentioned as these apparitions seemed, their roads led only one place. Her magic would slip with her memories, and all chance of coming back would be lost.

It would be death. She wouldn’t let this Nightmare trick her.

But why did it look so sad?

Nightmare Moon smiled weakly, and gently shook its head. “Because we know you.”

Celestia’s face fell from its challenging gaze. She shirked from the illusory sister and turned away, breathing out shakily. The ghost was wrong. It was wrong about her, and yet she felt so haunted. The air's chill brushed her heart, sending a shiver through her body.

Hunched low against the cold, Celestia began staggering off. She walked maybe seven steps before Nightmare Moon’s voice came out again.

“I’m not your sister.”

Celestia paused, raising her head a fraction. But she did not look.

Instead, she answered. “Yes you are. You never stopped being Luna.”

Silence tarried behind her. Celestia glanced back and saw Nightmare Moon still there, watching. With that sad, pitying smile on its face.

She couldn’t linger. Celestia turned away for the last time and resumed her trod, trying not to hear the words it called after her.

“You haven’t realized?” Nightmare Moon’s shout was echoed and quiet, as if heard from a great distance. “I’m not Luna, any more than he was Sombra.”

Celestia tried to focus. One step at a time. The encompassing grey was lightening even more, now like a foggy morning. She was almost there.

But thoughts of the conversation kept needling her mind. “Because we know you.”

“I’m not Luna, he’s not Sombra.”

Then her words with the Sombra-ghost had been wasted. The answers she sought, the reconciliation she dreamed of, would never come to pass. Ten thousand years from now she’d sigh and wonder, just as she always had. Was Sombra the stern king, or the red-horned monster? Or both?

No answers. Never any answers.

“Not true,” she said with a shallow breath. Celestia was exhausted. Her pace had slowed to a plod. Her head hung low, nose brushing the warmth beneath her.

There were some answers out there. Luna had returned, and told her all about Nightmare Moon. That was something.

Luna. Her sister, whatever that word meant.

But then what was the mare she spoke to just now? What was the Nightmare Moon who taunted her for so many years?

Maybe these questions were good for her. Anything to distract from how tired she felt. Her wings dragged on the ethereal ground, and Celestia accepted the warmth as their tips sunk low. Her whole body was so cold, so pained.

On, on. One step, then another.

She stumbled. She fell, pitching forward in a heap.

The landing was soft. It didn’t hurt at all, and the warmth wrapped her again. Head to hoof, and in her mind as well.

It was nice. She was sleepy.

Celestia stood. The warmth vanished, and she walked on.

When she stumbled again, she fell to the left. This time she didn’t hit the ground. A pony was standing on that side, and helped catch her with their back.

The black form remained still, with Celestia leaning against it for a moment. It was a unicorn, nearly as tall as the princess. A smooth, young hoof braced Celestia’s shoulder, helping her regain her balance.

Celestia looked, already knowing and dreading the sight. Rooke. Rooke the young mare, keeping her steadying hoof on the princess until she could stand again.

There was gentle worry on Rooke’s narrow mouth. Her grey eyes moved quickly, scanning Celestia’s face while the princess looked back.

The sight of her old friend nearly finished Celestia. She wanted – she needed – to collapse in Rooke’s hooves. To drop the shredded old mask and bawl like an infant. To let Rooke comfort her, wipe her tears, and gently, tenderly, lie down with her. Not even as a lover, but as the closest of friends. After so many ghosts, so many trials, Celestia’s heart was at its end.

But her will was not. Not yet. Celestia rallied her best smile and turned it to Rooke, warding the unspoken worry with confident assurance.

It wasn’t working. Celestia could see it with the deepening of Rooke’s frown, and the softening of her eyes. Maybe on a better day Celestia could have fooled her, but not here and now. She couldn’t muster the serene smile she carried for a thousand years, or even the softer, sadder one she kept for herself.

This smile was broken. A pained, ragged insult to its own face.

“Princess.” Rooke’s voice was quiet. The black hoof raised higher, brushing itself to Celestia’s cheek. “Lie down and rest. You deserve it.”

Different words than Nightmare Moon’s, but the same message. Celestia stepped back, slipping away from the touch.

“And abandon my ponies,” she said, accusation thick in the words.

“You’ve given them too much already,” Rooke pressed. “A thousand years of peace and order, carried the whole way on your own back.”

Celestia huffed, turning her head to the side. “So? What good would it all be, if everything I’ve worked for dies? If–”

A wet sob barked from her throat, interrupting her. Celestia shook her head hard and finished. “If I don’t leave anything behind? I might as well not have bothered.”

Rooke’s answer was fast, like she had already pondered the same. “You were never going to leave anything behind. You would die with Equestria, and it would die with you.”

“Neither will die.” Celestia said it as a harsh whisper. “I’ll return. Make things right.”

“And what then!?” Rooke snapped – a careworn, frustrated shout. “Live forever, hunched over your desk? Smiling your stupid little smile for the rubes, then turning around to argue with the dead?”

Celestia shook her head, eyes away. “It’s alright.”

“No it’s not,” Rooke insisted. “You hoped you were turning perfect, but you’re not. It’s not going to get better.”

“But it will get a great deal worse if I don’t return.”

“Not for you!” Rooke’s voice cracked with the words. “You can’t protect ponies from everything forever. There’s always going to be problems. So please: be selfish, just this once. I’ll…”

She sniffed loudly. The black unicorn smiled back to Celestia, trembling and red-eyed. “I’ll lie down with you. I know you’ll be scared for the ponies, so I’ll hold you tight until it all goes away.”

Silence fell. Celestia gazed for a moment, tempted and afraid.

The embrace, the sleep. The gentle voice, shushing her as she drifted off. Wanted. Needed.

Celestia bowed. “Thank you, Rooke.”

She righted her head and turned away. Step by step, she walked into the clearing fog.

A moment passed, and Rooke called after her. “Good luck, Princess!”

Celestia stopped. “You ask me to stay, then wish me luck as I leave?” Her confusion added an edge of indignation to the words. “What are you all, anyway?”

Silence. She looked, wondering if Rooke had chosen not to answer or simply vanished.

Rooke wasn’t there, but another was. Ten paces behind her stood a slim, white mare named Celestia, smiling back with battered comfort.

Celestia startled. She blinked, and the image was gone.

She looked for another few seconds. Her mind wondered if she really saw it, and what it meant, but she got nowhere. She was tired, and there was no time to waste. Celestia turned her head forwards and continued to walk.

Then, pressed by some instinct, she began to run.

No single moment brought Celestia back to the waking world. The soft, indistinct warmth beneath her hooves hardened slowly to marble tiles. Shapes became visible in the grey surroundings, clearer and more real with every blink.

Running the last distance chased away the chill, though her ill-used legs throbbed with exertion. She was no stronger than when she departed.

But Celestia kept running, letting her faded mane flail behind her. She didn’t even know what feeling sped her so. Not sisterly love, not tired duty.

She wondered, and had no answer. Yet still she ran, until the last grey wisp had vanished and she lived once more.

Celestia announced her return with an instant of destruction. She hurled an ancient lance, its rune-scribed shaft lost to the bright whiteness of her power.

Trottingham’s gift, from the Quincentennial. Five hundred years, and still it remained a lance fit for its owner. Potent and crackling, it struck from the ground, a bolt of lightning against the towering fiend that was Absalom.

Luna and the others were still there, fighting hard. Three alicorns and six brave friends, whose strength and courage had endured Celestia’s fall. They recoiled, blinded and buffeted as the sun-fueled lance exploded.

None of them saw it shatter. It was already too bright to behold in striking the creature, but as the ancient gift broke it unleashed a light to blind the world. Across Equestria, ponies covered their eyes against the moment that returned Celestia to the fray.

Absalom had no eyes, but a different pain was reserved for it. The shattering lance sent a thousand shards of metal into its brackish flesh, each impossibly sharp and hot as a star. They impaled and burned – cutting muscles, cooking blood, and silencing mouths. Such was their force that Absalom rocked back on its grasshopper legs and screamed with every mouth it had left.

Quiet as a statue, Celestia watched it stagger. A stone frown marked her face, standing amidst the ruined palace.

After a moment, a sigh escaped her. None of the shards had penetrated even halfway through the monster’s body. The fiend was wounded and nothing more.

It would recover. Her greatest blow had been in vain. Again.

Celestia’s gaze stayed upon it, her visage grim. Out of the corners of her eyes, she could see the ponies gather to her. They should have pressed the attack, but perhaps were dazed by her unexpected return. Or perhaps the answer was simpler – Luna landed unsteadily to the right, staggered and panting as she came to earth. Even with her eyes away, Celestia could smell the blood.

They were tired. Both from sorrow, and the sliding, failing battle.

Her gaze turned, and she looked to them. The mortals looked back with wide-eyed wonder, though they had their own wounds. The yellow pegasus walked with the earthbound races, her left wing mangled beyond reason. Flying masonry had struck the white unicorn hard, ripping her face and neck into grotesque parodies. She breathed softly through her mouth, one hoof clamped to a broken nose.

Pain marked their eyes, but it was nothing to the awe. They saw Celestia die… and here she was.

Twilight smiled warmly at her. Not that worshipful grin, but a smaller, contented one. She looked to her mentor expectantly, as did her brother and his wife.

Luna still panted for breath, her head lowered. She had carried the battle, shepherding and protecting the younger ponies. It took its toll in a dozen minor cuts and breaks across her body.

She raised her head after a moment and looked to Celestia. A small twist of the lips showed her relieved smile, though worry clouded it. They both knew this fight wasn’t over.

Seconds passed quietly between the ponies. Celestia knew she had to speak. She knew what she had to say, though she wondered if she could say it.

“I have returned,” she began. She said it loudly, strongly, her head raised. For the barest second, she was Princess Celestia. Save for Luna, the only Celestia they had ever known. Perfect. Invincible, even from death.

But she wasn’t that pony. Not anymore, if she ever was. Her head fell, the grayed mane collapsing to each side.

“And I…”

This was it. She peeked out from between her locks, eyes begging forgiveness for her failure, for what must be said. The others’ smiles were gone, their faces distraught at seeing her so.

Celestia’s head sunk lower still, turning her gaze to the ground.

“I cannot… do this alone.”

Silence fell again. Ponies shuffled and looked to each other for answers.

Except for Luna. After only a second’s pause, she limped forward. Celestia felt her sister’s neck descend over her own, felt her soft nose nuzzle the faded mane.

“You never had to.”

Celestia gulped hard, swallowing her emotion before it could erupt. Four words from Luna’s mouth, yet they held so much within them. Acceptance. Forgiveness. Understanding. Celestia felt like she would melt or burst, and she wasn’t sure which. She didn’t understand it at all, but she wanted Luna to stay.

Luna. Sister.

Eyes widened as realization dawned. That word means this!

The ground shook beneath their hooves, and a crash sounded not far away. Absalom had regained its footing.

They were out of time. “We must act,” Celestia said with resignation, withdrawing from Luna’s nuzzle.

“Then we shall,” Luna answered. She smiled – not with great confidence, but with greater heart. “We’ll do this just like we did with Sombra.”

“What–”

Celestia caught her words as Luna turned to fly, but it was too late. Luna heard, they all heard, so there was nothing to do but finish.

She looked away. “What did we do with Sombra?” Celestia asked, flushing with the question. She forgot, and everypony saw it. Forgetful. Senile.

Tired. Hurting.

Rooke was right. It doesn’t get better.

The night princess paused and blinked, an instant of surprise on her face.

Of course she’s surprised. Celestia’s thoughts growled in her mind. A stupid, obvious question from a worn-out hag who should’ve just–

Luna’s words cut the thought short. “We have numbers. Whoever Absalom is attacking does nothing but defend. Everypony else throws everything into offense. The monster will eventually turn its attention to another, but then that pony will defend, and the former defender will strike.”

“It’s not Sombra,” Celestia warned, pushing her bitter musings away. “It can fight two as easily as one.”

“Heh,” Twilight smirked. “Then it’s a good thing we’ve got four.”

Cadence was less enthusiastic. She kicked at the ground, glancing back to Shining Armor. “Shiny and I do shields a lot better than anything. Maybe we just concentrate on protecting you all?”

“No,” Luna said. “Do what you can. Throw it all in. Twilight, Tia and I are strong enough to defend ourselves if we focus.”

“What about the rest?” Celestia asked, gesturing to the mortal ponies.

“I can protect mine.” Cadence wrapped a wing around Shining Armor, and the two shared a nuzzle. “I need him, anyway, to amplify my magic.”

“And I wouldn’t leave if you told me,” Shining added.

The orange earth pony nodded, stern grimace on her face. “We ain’t going nowhere, neither. We got Twi’s back.”

Even the wounded friends stood taller at her words. Thin rainbows wisped between their necklaces and Twilight, and the young princess seemed stronger for it. Her horn glowed, and the purple aura shimmered with many colors at its edge.

The Elements of Harmony. Always full of surprises.

Twilight smiled to Celestia. A student’s smile, proud beyond words at finding something her beloved teacher didn’t know.

Celestia smiled back, but it was dead inside. Defeat still loomed. They might all fall to the beautiful darkness, and what then? Celestia doubted she could drag herself back a second time, and the young alicorns were weak and uncertain. Luna might have the strength to return, but she could never overpower the creature alone. Failure here would be failure forever.

And if they won? A thousand, thousand more years of sore wings and candle-smoke eyes.

Twilight didn’t see all that behind the smile. That was good, for there was no time for questions.

The ground shook again as Absalom stepped forwards. Four alicorns spread their wings and rose, returning to the fray.

The ancient years made it fuzzy, but Luna’s words jogged Celestia’s memory of the battle with Sombra. The “shieldmare,” as they called the defender, had to paradoxically be aggressive to the point of folly. She needed to be in the enemy’s face, presenting too tempting and threatening a target to ignore. It took discipline and strength, two things Celestia held in abundance.

She dropped like a meteor upon the monster, just as she did before. This time, though, she arrested her motion to dodge a blocking tendril. Absalom countered immediately, raking upwards with a claw and swinging more tendrils down from above. Celestia weaved around the obstacles, foregoing her attack in favor of evasion.

The other hand reached up, a bloody stump where its claws should be. A reminder of her earlier wounds against it, and Celestia’s heart soared at the sight. Bitterly strong though the fiend might be, its injuries didn’t vanish completely. Perhaps enough wounds, with enough strength…

She swerved around the hand, letting her mind narrow to violent instinct. She could strike the mangled claw as it passed by… but no, she had to focus. The shieldmare was not to attack, not even for obvious targets. Otherwise there would be no difference from earlier: four alicorns flying willy-nilly, striking and defending with no plan between them.

This would fare better. Already the other three had launched their first attacks: purple, blue, and pink beams, cutting along Absalom’s massive hide. No telling damage, at least not yet. But they would strike again, harder, with time to channel their strongest spells.

A good plan.

Luna’s plan.

The thought broke Celestia’s concentration. She came up with this. If we win, it’ll be because of her.

Such a strange thought. Another pony, even her sister, being so important. Being the pony with the idea, the responsibility. Not Celestia, but Luna.

Celestia didn’t know what to think, but the next second a swooping tendril chased it from her mind. Then another, and a third sneaking up from beneath. Absalom was focused on her, lunging for the seemingly foolish mare who loitered within reach. A few errant tendrils slapped at the other alicorns, but they dodged away and were not pursued.

Now came the hard part of the shieldmare’s task: to stay within reach, yet to endure without flinching. If she drew back it would turn to the others, and that she would not allow. She had failed enough today.

This she could do. This she would do, no matter the cost.

Claws slashed and tendrils grasped. A dozen of them, twisting around each other to strike from every angle. Celestia dared not dodge outwards, so she instead went straight towards the beast. Then she veered out and back, then forwards again. Never straying out of reach, never with a second to spare.

The air around was choked with Absalom’s limbs, causing each dodge to carry her to a different danger. The tendrils grew so thickly around that she began kicking off one to avoid another, causing them to clap and tangle around her.

It was inevitable that some struck home. A claw stabbed her, piercing into her aura’s shield. Yet with no magic wasted on offense, Celestia’s guard proved up to the task. It weakened and cracked, but held firm. The claw’s force knocked her to the side instead of impaling her.

She tumbled in the air. Before she could re-orient herself, a tendril connected from her right. Again, the shield took the worst of it. But Celestia groaned with pain, feeling ribs crack as she sailed outwards.

She flew back in, not even taking the time to right herself in the air. A claw greeted her, ready to slash again at the unbalanced princess.

But it flinched, and Celestia soared past. Looking down, she saw a massive wave of light blue, curved from its source at Cadence’s horn. It had cut into Absalom like a scimitar, causing black blood to drip down its length.

Mouths hissed, yet the claws snapped for Celestia once more. The pause gave her time to recover, and she dodged easily – an obnoxious white fly, buzzing in its face and refusing to die.

It hissed again as Luna struck. She fired with precision, aiming a flat line of magic to the wound opened by Cadence. By luck or design, Absalom shifted its legs and the beam hit several meters above the target. Yet the focused magic gouged its own hole, narrow and deep.

Where Cadence’s blow unleashed blood like a seeping waterfall, this one brought it like a geyser. A few drops flecked Luna’s wings, burning away feathers. She flinched, but circled around for another strike.

Great legs crushed the old Sun Court as Absalom staggered backwards, its claws splayed at its side. It seemed more surprised than injured – its wounds were small or shallow, and its danger not at all contained. The dozen tendrils at its head stood deadly as ever, but waved slowly above the body as it paused, ceding the initiative.

While Luna came out of her tumble, Celestia surged forwards. She saw Cadence beneath her, flying even faster to strike at the legs. The young princess was beating her wings hard, speeding the journey with her own and her lover’s soaring hopes. A dozen minor wounds against Absalom had not cheered their hearts like that single moment of pause. Within nine minds had been birthed a wild, hopeful belief that the fiend was hesitating. That perhaps a tiny seed of doubt had been planted in its unfathomable brain.

The resurgent hope did not take hold of Celestia. Adrenaline sped her wings, but no passion burned within them. The small part of her mind that drifted from the battle turned only to the warm darkness she had left behind. To the ghosts within, and the words they spoke.

She came again before Absalom, feeling a twinge of relief that she had no time to spare for those musings. The fiend had righted itself and lashed out, bringing her every thought back to the unfinished battle.

As she dodged, Celestia saw Twilight striking from above while Cadence went low. Twilight – the weakest princess, yet the strongest in many ways. Five ribbon-thin lines of magic strung loosely from her crown to the ground below them. Each was a single color, matching those of the other Elements of Harmony. Red, orange, purple, pink, and blue – five strings of magic, connecting the friends in ways nopony understood.

The gem in Twilight’s crown had become shock-white where the ribbons met. She didn’t so much fire the energy as she pitched it, letting small, pulsating white balls fling out from the crown at curving angles. Some even missed the gargantuan monster as Twilight wrestled with the strange magic, but those that struck exploded like bombs. The blows were not great ones, but they were strong enough to harm the flesh. And while the other alicorns needed to collect themselves for each attack, Twilight was hurling her wobbly magic with only seconds between shots. She dive-bombed Absalom, letting her will-fueled power strafe the nest of tendrils at its head.

Celestia dodged another distracted claw. She glanced up quickly and dove to the side, anticipating the tendrils to slap again from above.

None were seen. She looked frantically to the sides and ground, wondering if somehow they outmaneuvered her. Only when she looked up again did she see them, stretching skywards to where Twilight flew. The young mare arrested her dive, eyes wide as the tendrils spiraled towards her.

Celestia had lost the fiend’s attention. This kept with Luna’s plan, but its flaws became obvious with Twilight’s first panicked dodge. Crying out in fear, she tumbled around the first two blows with all the grace of a falling stone.

A clumsy flier. A poor shieldmare. Celestia winged upwards, determined to interpose herself. To hell with Luna’s plan, Twilight was doomed on her own.

It was too late. Twilight’s unskilled dodges were nothing to the mass of ropey limbs reaching up for her. Two were avoided. One caught the tip of her wing, causing her to spin out in the air. Four more closed in before Celestia crossed even half the distance.

Still unbalanced, still dizzy, Twilight never saw the first tendril strike. It curved around before closing, seeking to wrap the helpless princess around the chest. Then it would squeeze, and–

It stopped. Rubbery flesh bulged as something unyielding caught the tendril.

A thin, blue ribbon. A tiny thing, tracing back to the star on Twilight’s crown, then all the way down to a pink mare’s necklace. Four other lines of magic did their own part, grappling with four other tendrils.

The young princess righted herself. Her eyes met Celestia’s, but only for an instant. Twilight’s face formed a half-smile, the mind within surprised and pleased with its new power. She hovered in the air, tauntingly flying down to let the claws reach for her. They lunged for the bait, and caught only her ribbons.

Cadence slashed and Luna fired again. Celestia blinked, and shook her head. She wanted to take Twilight’s place, but that would be the wrong move. It would trip them both up, and Absalom might realize she was just a distraction.

Twilight would endure. She had to.

The best way to take her place would be to punish the fiend for its drifting attention. Celestia drove forwards, focusing her magic into the horn. It glowed white-hot as she sailed close, drawing to Absalom’s bulk without slowing.

It was time to attack with abandon, without letting even common sense get in the way. Celestia’s horn plunged into the ropey flesh, so quickly that her head rammed it the instant before the spell fired.

The explosion of heat erupted within Absalom, hurling the stunned princess back by the force of her own spell. She let it carry her, knowing she raced the blood as it sped to the sky.

Stars danced in her vision, her thoughts shaken by the impact on her skull. But the damage was done, and the mouths screamed once more. A crater had formed on its massive bulk, and a second later a new blue sword from Cadence cut into it. Its wounds were closing, but not fast enough to keep pace with the assault.

This was working. These were the kind of blows that were needed – not dueling beams, but powerful, savage spells from horns that had time to channel them.

But to buy that time, much was demanded of the shieldmare. Twilight had lasted many precious seconds with her friends’ help, but inexperience was swiftly making her pay. She flinched at every close call, and staggered under hits that her alicorn body could endure easily. These kept her off balance, making each guard clumsier than the last.

Five defiant ribbons warded off five tendrils, but another finally connected from above with all its might. The air broke with the sound of a whiplash, and Twilight dropped.

Twenty stories she plummeted, crashing to a shattered hallway – broken, senseless, but alive. Her magic had taken the worst, both of the strike and the fall.

But her aura had fled with her consciousness, and the precious crown was knocked away. Absalom reared back the same tendril and lashed again, aiming squarely for the fallen princess. It leaned into the blow, mouths silent, moving with ruthless speed.

Luna was on the wrong side of the creature. Celestia, too far away. Cadence had just cut into a monstrous leg, and never even noticed until the blow swung.

Scant meters above Twilight, a pink shield appeared. Shining Armor stood by his sister, gambling all on the hasty guard.

A ward that once threw back an army of changelings was not enough to stop Absalom. The shield vanished under the impossible blow, arresting it only for the barest of seconds. His magic’s annihilation drove feedback into Shining’s horn, causing it to smoke and crack. His neck jerked, his eyes rolled back, and he fell alongside his sister.

Yet that bare second robbed the tendril of its momentum. It did not crush them, but only brushed the fallen forms as Absalom raised it for another swing.

Celestia and Luna both fired beams of magic, trading power for speed. But the thing would not be distracted; not now, with blood in the air, and doubt in its mind.

The tendril fell – a slimy, gibbering reaper’s scythe.

This time it was a pale blue magic that rose against. The new shield cracked as the tendril connected, glaring white at the impact. Cadence had taken Shining’s place, abandoning her attack to guard the unconscious siblings.

Another blow struck. More cracks formed in the shield. Cadence stood firm, horn aglow and face drenched with sweat.

She glared to the creature, the only counter she could muster. Another strike fell upon her, and then another.

The broken-faced white unicorn ran to her side, channeling her own magic into the defense. It was feeble, untrained. Worthless, but there was nothing else for it. Five tendrils hammered the shield with the speed of darkness, rearing and striking with wild, frantic strength.

Absalom knew – the alien mind knew the shield wouldn’t last long.

It was right. Cadence was half as strong without Shining Armor, and she could not dodge without forsaking the pair. She was no shieldmare here, but a breached, falling fortress.

Celestia flew upwards, away from them. Her mind flew faster, grasping for a plan.

The chance was slipping. The wounds the ponies scored meant nothing without a means to drive it home. With Cadence pinned, other tendrils were swinging for Celestia and Luna. The attacks were distracted, but distracting. Neither princess could strike their hardest while bobbing and weaving.

A minute, maybe two, and Cadence would fall. Crushed to paste along with Twilight, leaving the beast against half as many foes. It could easily fend off the two sisters as it healed. And then the only choice would be to die against it, or flee to witness the End.

In a minute, maybe two, it would be too late.

So Celestia acted now, in Absalom’s last moment of distraction. When she stopped her ascent, she was high above the vanishing hope beneath.

One strike. Like a falling star, straight to its black heart.

Just like the last time. She failed then, but perhaps Absalom was weakened.

Celestia turned in the air, pointing her horn downwards for the charge. Bright power surrounded her, and she struck.

Again, she pierced like a spear into the putrid flesh. Blood and brackish fat boiled to nothing as she passed from the sunlight, stabbing deeper and deeper.

Déjà vu gripped her, grim for the memory of failure. Just as the last time, she burned and rent layers of mouths and flesh. She felt her aura fade again, diminishing as the blow expended itself on the protective fat.

She heard the heart before she saw it. The echoed, dull beating, causing the tunnel to spasm as she drew near. Unlike last time, Celestia drew close enough to touch it. She laid eyes on the knotted black mass, and her mind flared with the thought that this would go differently. She would slay it. Her return was not in vain.

With her speed fading, Celestia did not so much stab the heart as she fell to it. Feeling her momentum falter, her aura dim, she reached out with her hoof and channeled into it every scrap of magic she could muster.

She touched the throbbing coils, and unleashed the blow.

As before, pressing her magic to the heart brought a moment of strange awareness. Celestia blinked, and the monstrous body around her vanished into blackness. Her outstretched hoof touched not a massive heart, but the chest of the strange man that was Absalom.

The white suit was in tatters, the fine cane dropped to the ground. Absalom had braced its lanky legs against her blow, and its clothes exploded away where she touched. Black, rubbery skin roasted beneath her hoof, and a pained hiss came out where its mouth should be.

Celestia released the breath she was holding, letting the last of the white fire leak out from her.

Déjà vu. The greatest blow she could muster.

A soft, resigned frown came to her face as the hiss turned to a chuckle. She hurt the fiend. She hurt it badly. But it survived, and they both knew she would not get another chance.

Absalom’s hand rose, and settled itself atop the powerless hoof. Long fingers stroked her fetlock, holding within them the promise of a painful, rending death.

The fiend spoke, smooth and cultured as the darkness rippled behind it. “There’s this saying, on another world. I wonder if you have one like it? ‘A day late, and a dollar shor–’”

Blue power flared behind Absalom, and a sudden, squelching crunch of breaking ribs tore through the words. Luna appeared behind it, her own hoof punching forwards. This one crushed so far through the suited back that it met Celestia’s on the other side.

Absalom gave a stilted groan. Over its shoulder, the sisters’ eyes met with looks of shock. Too stunned to celebrate, their minds raced, piecing together the events.

They had reached the same conclusion: one chance, before Cadence fell. An all-out attack, plunging deep inside the thing. Celestia a hair faster, but neither noticing the other.

In its wounded state, Absalom barely endured the first attack. Its great, evil strength was at its limit, yet remained enough to stop Celestia’s final effort.

But for Luna’s, there was nothing left.

“You,” Celestia breathed, still amazed.

Luna shook her head. “Us.”

The darkness around them began to fade, dripping away as though dirt on a rainy window. They were inside the creature. In the cavity where its heart used to be, before Luna blasted it to nothingness.

The blood was gone. The mouths and flesh were drying, calcifying. Falling apart like a statue of ash, letting the sunlight begin to shine through.

The same fate was befalling Absalom’s avatar. As its suit and body crumbled, it gave a second, softer groan.

To Celestia’s ears, it sounded... relieved. A gentle sigh. A release.

Grief leaped to her face, not unnoticed by Luna. Celestia’s mouth contorted as she watched the creature die.

To fade. To leave it all and rest.

You monsters. Why you? Why you and never–

Absalom worked its jaw, uttering its last words. “You know…”

Perhaps a final taunt, or words of confession. Celestia didn't care.

“Stop,” she cut it off in a broken voice. “Just stop.”

“You’ve done enough.”

No sooner did the creature fall than cleanup began. Emergency crews scoured the shattered palace, and within hours they cheerfully reported that nopony died in the battle. Guards and staff had fled as the beast took form, though many were injured by flying debris. All told, the whole affair made for an easy story: a monster had attacked Equestia, and been defeated like all the others.

And so, as was the way of ponies, they partied. They started at midday, and showed no signs of slowing as the evening’s shadows grew long. Fireworks exploded above Canterlot, and in cities across Equestria. Households everywhere produced cake, wine, anything to share with their neighbors in spontaneous outpourings of relief and joy.

Twilight awoke in the hospital, as did her brother. They urged Cadence and the others to go out and enjoy the festivities, and naturally, the request was not even considered. The eight friends celebrated together, holding hooves and embracing around hospital beds.

Celestia did not join them, and she did not send word. Her “friendship” with Twilight was a distant one, and her absence was not missed.

Half the palace had been destroyed in the fighting, but Celestia’s quarters were among those spared. She sat on the edge of her bed, keeping her eyes to the floor. A hoof on each side balanced her upright as she hunched her neck over to stare.

She did not answer when a knock sounded at the door. Nor did she raise her head as it opened.

“May I come in?” Luna asked, standing in the doorway.

“Yes.” A single word from Celestia’s mouth. The only proof she was listening, as she did not look up.

Luna sat down beside her. The velvet sheets creased beneath her tail, but evened before they reached Celestia. There was room for another pony to sit between them.

Tia needed space. Something had changed. Something was broken, or had always been broken and only now realized.

This, Luna guessed. Tia needed space, but the younger sister could still be there for her.

They perched – together, yet apart. The only sound came from the rhythmic ticking of the clock, and the muffled celebration from the streets below.

Minutes passed, one after the other. When an hour had gone by, Luna spoke again. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Celestia said. So Luna stayed, and two more hours passed in silence.

Luna glanced to her sister now and then, never seeing a trace of movement. Just the dull, defeated stare to the ground.

The silence was maddening, but Luna carried it with patience. She wanted to embrace her sister. She wanted Celestia to tell her of the death and return, and everything else that happened over the thousand years.

Celestia would not, would never. Out of habit and pride, she hid her wounds from the world.

But the wounds were bleeding now, and could be hidden no longer. Least of all from Luna.

It could not be rushed. Day turned to night, shifted through wordless magic they summoned without motion. The sounds of celebration went on, as did the clock’s steady tick.

“I…” Celestia began, but she carried it no further.

Another hour passed. Fireworks danced across the nighttime sky, adding their whistles and pops to the background noises.

In the light of those fireworks, the words were spoken. “I did not… want to come back.”

Luna looked to her sister. Celestia was not crying, not even now. But her head bowed in defeat, and her eyes were red and puffy as they stared to the floor.

There was nothing else to say. Luna slid closer, and wrapped her hooves around Celestia’s shoulders.

Celestia did not return the hug, and that was alright. They sat there, mute sisters, as the night passed around them.

Author's Notes:

Thanks for reading.

(Also, the good Mech has bequeathed this story another piece of fanart. Viewed here.)