In the farthest edge of the infirmary, beyond where the wounded soldiers were being treated- -if they could be treated- -sat a room apart from the others. It was larger than the others, and slightly more luxurious. It was one of several designed to be a private room, and for the entire history of Canterlot the most severe cases it had served were diplomats who had overindulged at the parties or experienced minor injuries while playing polo or other high-class sports.

Now, however, it contained two ponies- -one a patient, lying still in the excessively bright room, and the other sitting in a chair at her side.

Twilight ran her hoof through her teacher’s mane. Under normal circumstances, it was not solid, but rather a sort of multicolored vapor. In her present state, however, it had resolved into normal hair, just like that of any other pony. It was even rapidly losing its color.

Celestia herself had not moved since she had been brought in. She only stared at the ceiling, her eyes glassy and blank, her mouth slightly open with thin bubbles of blue material forming at its corners. At first this had unnerved Twilight to no end- -just looking at her blank, dead expression would continually drive her into fits of uncontrollable sobbing. She had tried to cover Celestia’s face, but the result had been far worse, giving the impression that she was truly gone.

Celestia had not been breathing when Twilight found her, and she had not taken a single breath since. She was limp and perfectly still. Arguably, there was no difference between her and a corpse- -but the doctors said she was still alive, somehow, still managing to fight the parasite within her.

Even if they had said otherwise, Twilight would still have never have left her side. In her heart, she hoped desperately that Celestia would wake up, that she would blink and turn her head, or even twitch slightly. In her mind, however, Twilight knew that even an alicorn- -even Celestia- -could only withstand do much.

“It will be okay,” whispered Twilight. “You’ll be okay.”

The sorrow started to well up inside her again. She tried to suppress it, to maintain her composure, but like all the times before she was not able. She broke down into quiet sobs, putting her face down on the white sheets that covered Celestia to a corner where the cloth was already saturated with her tears.

The others had come, and sometimes that had spoken, but Twilight had barely heard them. She knew they were trying to help, and she did not want to ignore them, but they just seemed so distant. It took all her strength to try to seem strong when they were present, and she found that she could not bring herself to speak to him- -either because it would break her concentration, or because she did not know what to say.

Twilight took Celestia’s hoof in her hand. It was so cold; despite the doctors’ best attempts, it was not possible to keep Celestia’s body temperature higher than room temperature.

“Why,” said Twilight. Speaking caused her own tears to fall into her mouth; they tasted salty. “Why would anypony do this to you?”

It was a question that she could not answer. Celestia had been like a second mother to Twilight, but even beyond that, she had always taken care of her subjects and of Equestria. She was always smiling, and showed nopony anything except kindness. She ruled without cruelty, even when she was forced to make the most difficult of decisions. She did not deserve this; Twilight simply could not comprehend why anypony would want to do this to her.

Which only made the question more confusing. Only the most depraved of monsters could have done this to such a beautiful pony- -but from Twilight’s own experience, Oblivion- -or D27- -was not that monster. She knew what he had done, and was fully aware of the destruction that had consumed Equestria, and of Celestia’s state- -but speaking to him revealed a different pony altogether. He was not mad with a thirst for power, or a true vendetta. He had showed forgiveness and kindness when he could, even when it cost him dearly- -and yet he had done this.

Twilight felt her eyes shift to the nightstand at Celestia’s side. There, next to a simple lamp and a set of flowers that had been brought by each of her friends, sat a small stone-like cube with a glowing core. Twilight’s friends had been too preoccupied with her to notice it, and the doctors had been too focused on Celestia to even question what it was. Twilight, however, had been acutely aware of its presence. In a way, it was maddening. She was aware of the Pegasus legend of Pandora’s box, and now fully understood how Pandora must have felt. Twilight had been given access to information, but told never to use it, unless she wanted to.

She could no longer help herself. Carefully, she picked up the box in her magic. It was surpsisingly heavy, just as the one she had held before- -the one Celestia had been so astonished to see.

Thinking about that memory, one where Celestia had been alive and speaking, and smiling, nearly drove Twilight back into another cycle of weeping. She managed to hold it back, however, by focusing on the box. Taking it between her hooves, she found that it could be shifted about, as though the sides of it were only partially linked by some kind of complex internal mechanism.

As she played with it, the box suddenly shifted automatically. Its shape became less cubic, and a port opened on one side. Twilight nearly dropped the cube in surprise, but instead turned the side with the hole toward her. She saw that it was not simply an opening, but rather a cone of empty space, leading to a point that connected to the glowing crystal suspended in the center.

The edge of the cone was grooved with a delicate spiral, and Twilight immediately understood what it was for. She actually paused for a moment, recalling what Oblivion had told her. He had warned her that this cube contained answers, but that it must never be used. For just a moment, Twilight moved to set the cube back on the table. As she did, though, she saw Celestia, her unbreathing body staring unseeingly at the white ceiling above her.

Twilight could not bear to live without some kind of answer; she could not withstand that she did not know why something this terrible had happened. She took the cube back in her hooves and, holding her breath, lowered her head and inserted her horn into slot that had been provided.

The tube clamped down painfully, and Twilight cried out- -only to realize that she was somewhere with no air. She seemed to be falling, through endless darkness. All around her were glowing cubes, suspended in the air, each one flashing with color and images. She had been somewhere like this before: when she had first become a Princess, she had ascended to a similar plane and walked through her own memories.

Twilight focused on that memory, and concentrated. She managed to slow her descent, and found herself standing still, floating among the cubes. There were so many of them- -thousands, if not tens of thousands, arranged as though they sat on individual shelves.

“Hello?” called Twilight. There was no response.

She approached the nearest of the cubes. All six of its facets seemed to be flashing rapidly with distorted images. Curious, Twilight reached out and touched it. The moment she did, she ceased to be Twilight Sparkle.

Spring Tide jumped through the fields, propelling herself over the tall grass. It was taller than she was in many places, so she had to jump to see where the wildflowers were growing. Her parents had, of course, warned her to stay away from the wild fields. They said that there were ticks and fleas and other biting things.

Those were things that Spring Tide did not like at all, but only the best flowers grew in the wild fields, and she needed to pick them. This was, after all, a special occasion.

She gasped as she looked down, and then squealed with delight. She had found a beautiful green wild calla growing beneath a tall shrub. The callas were always terribly hard to find, even when they were in season, and a green one was especially rare. Spring Tide picked it with the greatest care, using her mouth instead of her magic to be sure that the stem came apart properly. She was pleased to have found a green flower; green, after all, was her brother’s favorite color.

It had been a long time since she had seen her brother. In fact, she could hardly remember him, only of him playing with her when she could barely talk. Then he had gone away. Her parents had told her brother had gone to war, although Spring Tide did not know where exactly that meant. She was vaguely aware that “war” was not really a place, but rather a thing. At first, she had been terribly frightened and cried often. War, she knew, was what had taken one of her father’s legs and was the reason why her uncle was just a name on a stone in the quiet field outside of the village.

Despite her fear, Spring Mist had finally come back. He had returned dressed in his stunning military armor, and although he seemed tired, Spring Tide saw that he had the same smile that he had possessed when he was a younger stallion.

He had not come alone. Many soldiers had come. Spring Tide was distantly aware from the way the adults talked that the war had changed, and something was different. They were not fighting the scary winged monster ponies anymore, or the terrifying fluffy demons, or the evil bats. They were fighting something different, but exactly what, even Spring Mist did not know. He only said that the soldiers came to rest, and to resupply as best as they could, and to plan for a new battle in the war.

Spring Tide did not know if that meant he would stay or not, and she hoped he would. More than anything, she wanted him to take off that armor, to put it away and come back to them. He could work the fields, and practice the spells that made the crops grow or write books. Spring Tide did not think he would, though. He was just not one to give up on anything, or anypony.

With her basket filled with flowers, she jumped through the grass on the way back to the village. She planned exactly what she would do when she got back: she would run to her house, and get the best vase that her family had. She would put the flowers into it, and take them to her brother and his friends. She would even save a few that she would give him later, so that he could give them to the pretty lieutenant that always seemed to follow him around.

She giggled thinking about it, and popped out of the tall grass on the top of the small hills overlooking her village. It was a simple town, built just half a mile from the sea. Normally, there were only around thirty ponies living there, but the number had swelled recently with all the soldires. There were so many that the town could not even hold them all. Instead, they had built small tents on the outer edge. There were hundreds of them, all walking busily, polishing their armor or tending fires, or helping the few among them who wore the black-and-red armor. Those ponies were very, very ill, and Spring Tide considered bringing them some of her flowers as well.

One of the unicorn soldiers below waved to her, and she waved back. As she did, though, she heard a sound high above. The looked up, and saw a strange rainbow. It did not look at all like a normal one; the colors were wrong. It also did not arc over the land as it should have- -rather, it seemed to be following something that was moving fast and glowing brightly.

Spring Tide watched as it seemed to slow over the center of her village. The soldiers below seemed agitated, and they started to move. Spring Tide did not even have time to question why.

A bolt of blinding light suddenly fell from the sky, impacting the center of the village. It expanded, and Spring Tide watched as the buildings and ponies standing near it were turned to dust. Then she saw nothing. She tried to scream as her eyes were burned from her skull and her skin torn off from the extreme heat, but no sound came out. She simply felt herself moving, falling sideways, driven back by the scalding heat and magic of the impact. Then she fell to the ground, and felt nothing else.

Twilight shifted, jumping to a new memory.

Long Till stood in the midst of a large crowd. Looming overhead, as well as surrounding him, were the strange, massive stones of the City of Ruin. According to legend, in ancient times, it had stood as a mighty Tower, an impossible feat of architecture. Nopony knew who had built it, but from the remaining base of the tower and the fragments where it had fallen, Long Till believed what most did- -that it had been made by the gods long before the first ponies.

It was said that the Tower had been the ancestral home of the unicorns, and from it they had reigned over the land for countless millennia- -until the legendary battle between the demigod Third Horn and Pegasus, when the first of the Pegasi had destroyed the Tower. Ever since, eternal, bloody wars had been raged over the remains of the site, but none had been able to claim it- -until just a year prior, when two alone had driven back the forces and claimed the City of Ruin as their home.

Now Long Till stood in the city, which had for so long been considered cursed, in the shadow of a great fragment taller than any structure ever built by ponies. He was in a large group, all standing at the base on which the Tower had once stood. There were many among them, many who Long Till had never thought he would ever see together. There were unicorns standing alongside Pegasi, as well as earth ponies like himself. Each one looked suspiciously at the others, as if expecting to be attacked by their hereditary, genetic enemies at any point, but all were far too afraid to run or to attempt to fight.

At the base of the Tower, a stage had been constructed on an ancient artificial cliff of stone. The top was clearly visible by all the ponies below, but was covered in a curtain suspended by magical means. From the sobbing that seemed to be coming from beneith it, Long Till already knew what was coming. He also knew that it was within his rights to turn away and leave- -but he found that he could not. He had to know, to see with his own eyes.

The crowd suddenly became agitated as an unusual light filled the sky. From the strange glowing sun descended an equally radiant figure. As she came into focus from above, the ponies below started to panic. The stories and rumors were true. Before them was a pony bearing the wings of a Pegasus and the horn of a unicorn. Her pristine white body was clad entirely in golden armor, and Long Till saw that she had somehow managed to pervert the most beautiful of metals into something horrifying. Her armor was ornate and grotesque, with strange, organic-like points and horns and motifs of pony skulls staring out with empty eyes.

The crowd was afraid, but they did not run. Instead, they fell to their knees and groveled in the mud beneath her. Many, especially those who were especially young, were crying as quietly as possible.

“My children,” said the Day-Goddess, smiling with a gaze that looked nearly motherly. “You have nothing to fear from us. Rejoice, for you are the chosen, and those who will dwell in everlasting piece beneath our motherly wings. Now rise, and look upon your goddess.”

The ponies obeyed. One thing that held true between all three represented races was that they were used to following orders from those more powerful than them, on pain of death or torture. The sight of the many-color maned goddess confirmed the other roomers that had terrified them, and they knew here power: it was said that she had, on her ascension, slaughtered the entire unicorn High Council, as well as the entire royal family, but that she had captured the Commander of the Pegasi alive and done unspeakable things to her. Seeing her now, not one among them doubted that it was well within her capacity.

“Rise,” she said, smiling, motioning with her gold-clad hoof. “You have nothing to fear from us.” Her expression grew serious. “But some do not learn. Some to not obey, and seek to undermine us.” She turned her horn toward the curtain, and it suddenly burst into flames and dissipated as fine ash into the wind.

The crowd gasped. Beneath it were ponies. There were eleven of them, divided into three groups. The farthest on the right was a group of three burrowing Pegasi. Few ponies had actually seen them up close, and they were revolting creatures, resembling ponies with elongated heads and tiny eyes, and bony, flightless wings that covered their backs like the shell of a beetle. All three were dark, mottled colors, as though their smooth coats were carved from stone. Many of the crowd gasped in disgust, but Long Till reacted with nothing but pity. He saw the marks on their bodies from where they had been beaten and branded, and saw their pain as they were exposed to light. He also saw that one of the two stallions among them took the mare in his forlegs, holding her close to him.

Beside the burrowing Pegasi were two earth ponies. One lay on his side, barely seeming to remain conscious. The other seemed to be the primary source of the weeping that Long Till had heard. Both of them showed signs of extended punishment, and it was quite possible that the more lackadaisical of the two was dying of sepsis.

The remaining six stood tall, with stern expressions on their faces. All six of them resembled earth ponies, but even though they had been shaved, the evidence of thick fluff on their bodies indicated that they were something entirely different. Six of them were young stallions, and the seventh- -the only one who’s coat was still mostly intact- -was an older mare.

Every pony on the stage was chained to it, not by iron but by barely perceptible magic. In the glint of the sun’s light, it was sometimes possible to see that the chains were connected to Celestia’s horn through narrow, intangible threads.

“These ponies, however,” said Celestia, smiling at her charges, “they have betrayed you. They have attempted to undermine our attempts to create a more beautiful, peaceful kingdom. All they wish is for hate and pain, while I offer them nothing but love and friendship.” She turned to the audience. “Well,” she said. “Which should I start with?”

“Please…” said an earth pony in the audience. “Please forgive them, my liege!”

“Perhaps we shall,” said Celestia. She turned her attention toward the pair of earth ponies. “Answer us,” she ordered. “Will you swear your undying allegiance to us, to the Princesses of the Sun and the Moon?”

The weeping earth pony looked up at Celestia, and then out at the crowd before her. “Yes,” she said. “Yes. Please, just don’t kill him!”

“Does he swear his allegiance to us?”

The sick pony looked upward at her, and for a moment his expression appeared steely- -but he had long since been broken. “I swear myself to you, my Princess,” he said with great difficulty.

“Then we grant you forgiveness,” said Celestia, smiling. The magical chains around their rear legs shattered into nothingness. “And we also give you this.” She lowered her horn to the weakened stallion, and he recoiled, expecting buring agony. Instead of pain, however, Celestia’s horn glowed with warm light, and his wounds were healed. As he stood, Celestia turned her attention to the mare, and her wounds were taken from her as well.

“Oh thank you, goddess,” said the mare, falling to Celestia’s hooves, kissing her golden, demonic horseshoes. “Thank you!”

“Thank you,” said the stallion, bowing.

“You may join your compatriots, now,” said Celestia, smiling, motioning them toward a ramp downward into the crowd.

The two ponies stood, and bowed once more. Then they walked down the ramp- -the stallion pausing only to look back at the woolen ones, who only glared with profound rage back at him.

Celestia stepped to stage left, taking her position before the burrowing Pegasi.

“Please, goddess!” cried one of them, pulling himself across the ground. “Oh Divine Light! Oh beautiful one! I swear my undying allegienc to you as well! Please do not kill me! Just let me return to my- -”

Without hesitation, Celestia brought her hoof down on his back. The crowd gasped, because they heard the crack of his spine, and watched as his rear legs instantly became paralyzed.

“You three cannot be forgiven for your crimes against these ponies,” said Celestia coldly as the pony below her wept in pain and fear, even as she ground her hoof into him. “You have taken lives, and consumed the flesh of ponies- -and plotted against Princess Luna, who is but a child. Your genetic line is impure, and you will only breed dissent.”

“Please, Celestia,” said the other stallion, holding the sobbing mare. “Please- -”

Celestia lowered her horn, and he burst into screaming flame- -and then into ash. The mare cried out and seemed to try to collect the fragments of him, even as they turned to fine black dust.

“We are the purifying fire of the Sun,” said Celestia. She lowered her horn toward the broken Pegasus below her, and vaporized him as well. “Nothing impure shall withstand our glare. All that shall remain shall be pure, and righteous!” With her last shout, she converted the last of the Pegasus to dust.

“Yeah!” cried a voice from the crowd, standing on his hind legs. “Death to dissenters! Kill all those who- -”

His body burst into flames and ask, and those around him screamed as they felt the heat from his corpse on their bodies.

“How dare you?” cried Celestia. “Any who cheer for death and pain are the worst of impurities in our kingdom. Do you believe that we enjoy this? It brings us endless pain that, despite our best efforts, some still betray our kindness.”

As Celestia spoke, she turned her attention toward the remaining six ponies. Not one of them looked at her; their gaze was held straight forward, their expressions stone-like grimaces, not of fear, but of defiance.

“These six,” said Celestia. “They were soldiers. Valliant heroes, who fought against us with great courage. They are heroes amongst their kind. Let it be known that they are free to join us, if they choose to swear their loyalty to us.”

She turned to the first one. “Do you swear your allegiance to me?” she asked, holding her muzzle close to his ear.

“I shall never,” he said with a strange, erudite accent.

Celestia vaporized him. She stepped over his fluffy ashes to the next one. “Do you swear your allegiance to me?”

“I shall never,” he said. Celestia promptly killed him as she had the other. Long Till was forced to look away. He could feel tears welling in his eyes, knowing that he himself, as a militapony, had answered the opposite when Celestia had asked his entire unit. His bravery, he knew, would never match that of those who stood on the stage.

“Do you swear allegiance to me?” she asked to the third. He was smaller than the others, and was attempting to suppress his shaking. His eyes flicked to her, but then stared straight forward. He took a deep breath. “I shall never!”

Celestia took his life, and moved to the forth. “Do you swear your allegiance to me?”

“I shall never,” he said quietly, and was killed.

She finally came to the fifth stallion. His expression, like that of the others, was fully serious, that of the most noble of warriors- -and yet a single tear rolled down his face.

“Do you swear your allegiance to me?”

“I…shall…never!”

Celestia burned him to death without hesitation, and he dissipated without a sound. Celestia finally turned her attention to the last pony standing, the woolen mare, who stood apart from the others.

“Field Commander Soft-Orb,” she said, “you have just witnessed the death of your only children by my will, but their own choice.” She paused, hearing the gasps of the ponies below. Long Till himself, upon realizing the relationship of the mare to those six brave stallions, felt a sudden urge to vomit. “What have you to say?”

“I could not be more proud of my sons,” she said, staring directly into Celestia’s eyes. “They had the courage to die before their own mother with their honor intact, rather than swear their rights and souls to a tyrant.” She turned to the crowd. “Unlike many, who have forever sold their freedom for the sake of pointless half-lives as slaves to a false god!” She turned back to Celestia, and spit in her face. Celestia only smiled. “I will not dishonor my ancestors, or the spirits of my sons,” she said, just barely loud enough for the audience to hear.

“Field Commander Soft-Orb,” said Celestia. “Do you swear your eternal allegiance to us?”

“I shall nev- -”

She never had a chance to complete the sentence. There was a glint of gold as Celestia raised her wing, and as the golden blades bewtween her feathers emerged. With one swift motion she brought it down of Soft-Orb.

Soft-Orb’s eyes widened, and all that came out of her mouth was a low gurgle. Then, after a moment’s pause, her head dropped off her body and rolled off the stage into the screaming crowd. Blood spurted from her neck as Celestia pushed her over.

“Let this be a lesson!” bellowed Celestia to the crowd, instantly arresting the stampede away from the Field Commander’s head and its pale, still-staring eyes. “All who stand for love and peach shall have t hose things! But all those who stand for violence shall only meet violent deaths! Only I, Celestia, immortal goddess of the sun, may commit such acts, and consume the sin of the ponies for a better Equestria!” Behind her, the stage- -along with Soft-Orb’s body- -collapsed into flaming dust, leaving only the sterile stone cliff of the long-destroyed Tower behind her. “Now disperse,” she said, calmly. “Go to your homes. Be with your families. Love them, and cherish them, for that is what ponies are for.”

The crowd bowed one last time, and then began to quickly leave, not wanting to remain behind with Celestia. Long Till left with them, but knew that he would not be returning to his family. He knew that he could never face them, not after what he had done. After seeing what he had just seen, he knew that he had made a profound mistake. A mistake that he needed to rectify. At that moment, he promised that he would not be a coward- -and that if he died, it would be as those heroes on that stage had. He would never forget the name of Soft-Orb, and he would, he hoped, one day regain his own honor in the same way that she had never released hers.

Another shift. Silent Zephyr moved effortlessly through the central palace in the City of Ruins. Even with the somewhat heavy device around her midsection, she was still able to move with great efficiency, using her wings as necessary, souring through the darkness with the silence of a barn owl.

The unicorn magic seemed to be holding. Even during the rocky truce between the Pegasi and the horns, Silent Zephyr had never once thought that she would ever be using a device enchanted by a unicorn. Nor did she even think that prolonged invisibility was possible. Apparently, it was extremely rare for a unicorn to even be able to perform such spells. It had taken General Cotton-Swab a long, long time to find and recruit one that was even remotely able to perform the necessary enchantments, and longer still to find an engineer smart enough to construct a system to prolong the spell long enough for anypony other than the caster to make any use of it.

It certainly made Silent Zephyr’s job easier, even if she knew it was only a crutch. She had been infiltrating well-secured facilities for years, even when she was only a common thief. She could be silent and nearly invisible without a spell, and was quite proud of it.

She moved swiftly through the oddly tall, empty hallways of the mostly-abandoned Tower. It had taken some of her best manipulations to get through the spells surrounding the central palace without setting them off, but the challenge had only excited her. She could feel her wings pulsing with excitement as she raced through the corridors.

Suddenly, she felt a presence. She instinctively ducked into the lower shadows at the corner of an alcove, even though she was invisible. Then she put her body close to the ground and walked like a burrowing Pegasus, creeping silently across the floor.

The presence she had heard was a group of ponies, which was odd. Despite the size of the City of Ruin, it was almost entirely empty and eerily devoid of life. The castle itself did not even have gauds, and there seemed to be only a few gelding or mare servants present.

The ponies she saw were walking in a group. There were four of them. The two at the rear were both tall bat ponies in dark blue armor. Even at a distance, Silent Zephyr could see that, to her surprise and sudden interest, they were both fully intact specimens.

Ahead of them was a third bat, a female with bright yellow eyes and a cutie mark of two asymmetrical crossed swords. Walking next to her was- -to Silent Zephyr’s even greater surprise- -a blue filly.

Curious, Silent Zephyr crept forward, getting as close as she dared. She nearly gasped when she saw that the deep-blue filly had both a pair of wings and a tiny, nubby horn. She was an alicorn, and since she was not the demon-goddess Celestia, it could only mean that she was the goddess of the moon, the child-princess Luna. That, in itself, was intriguing. Luna had made almost no public appearances since the two sisters had claimed the throne. Silent Zephyr had been aware that she was a child, but had not realized that she was so young.

“You will be having dinner with the chancellor of the earth pony senate tonight,” said the female bat. “My staff has prepared a selection of armors for you. I will take you to them after you have raised the moon. Afterword, you are scheduled to have a tactical meeting with our intelligence officers concerning the burrowing Pegasi forces in Subterna Four.”

“Will Tia be at the dinner?” said Luna, her voice squeaky and small.

“No,” said the female bat. “She will be dining alone tonight. However, she may yet attend the tactical meeting.

“Be sure to have the intelligence officers submit in writing this time,” said Luna, sounding a bit annoyed. “So that I can review their findings as necessary.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Silent Zephyr smiled at the precocious filly. Had it not been for that hideous spiral bone in her head, she would have been an adorable Pegasus. Still, Luna was a target, and Silent Zephyr drew her dancing-blade. She slowly fell in sync with the walking of the two rear bat gaurds, forcing her own hoofsteps to match hers. She planned what she would do: a simple stab in the back, halfway between the main and the wing joint; followed by a simple twist of the blade. Luna’s spine would snap, and she would die without a peep. The bats would not even know what happened.

She approached quickly, and passed between the two male bats. Bat-ponies were ugly, hideous perversions of Pegasus nature, but something about them was profoundly attractive to Silent Zephyr- -even the mare, in her own right. It seemed to be a rather unfortunate fetish genetically ingrained into most Pegasi.

After admiring the stallions for a moment, Silent Zephyr got back to business. She moved forward as gently as possible until she loomed over Luna. She was so small and seemed so innocent- -which meant that she would be easy to kill. Silent Zephyr lifted the blade.

The bat mare’s ears suddenly turned, reversing themselves. With one incredibly fast motion, she pushed Luna aside will simultaneously drawing a sword from under one wing into her mouth and lifting the other wing to reveal a small but powerful underwing sidearm.

Silent Zephyr barely dodged the blade in time; it passed exactly through where her neck had been moments before. The two stallions behind her jumped back surprised, and Silent Zephyr took their confusion as an opportunity. With the agility of a gymnast, she jumped between them and, once safely behind them, stood perfectly still.

The mare’s hideous yellow eyes flicked about the room, searching the darkness.

“What is it, Dark Ender?” asked Luna, trying to sound unafraid.

“I thought I heard something,” she said past the sword in her mouth. She did not lower her guard or her weapons, and continued to stare into the darkness, listening. Silent Zephyr trusted the invisibility spell with absolute confidence, but had not suspected that bats had such good hearing. A single motion would spell disaster. She could not fight three of the freaks at once, let alone an alicorn.

She felt a bead of sweat forming on her head, and held her breath. The falling of a single droplet would surely be loud enough for them to hear, and it would surely mean the hot and unpleasant gift of a fresh bullet.

To Silent Zephyr’s incrediable relief, however, the mare sheathed her sword and lowered her wing. “It must have been nothing,” she said. “Were you injured by my carelessness, your majesty?”

“No,” said Luna as they started walking again. “In fact, I thank you. All of you. You are always so nice to me.”

“We live by your grace, your highness,” said the mare. “And I live only to serve you.”

Silent Zephyr watched them go, and then sat down onto the floor. She realized how close she had come to death. There was no time for prolonged rest, though. Luna was only a secondary objective. Her primary purpose was to gather intelligence, specifically on Celestia.

So, she moved through the castle, moving toward where Celestia had likely located her throne room. One advantage to an enemy living in an ancient structure was that schematics of it were at least relatively common. The original throne room of the Horn dynasty had been destroyed during the First War millennia ago, but Silent Zephyr knew of several rooms that were large enough to suit the demon-goddess’s overinflated ego.

Within minutes she found such a room. She instantly knew that it was the right one: the door to it was massive and covered in gleaming, polished steel with an inlaid gold image of the sun that probably cost more than the entire fiefdom of Subter Four. Entering it alone, however, was impossible- -a task as simple as opening a door could prove fatal in the wrong circumstances; if Celestia truly was on the other side and saw any of the doors open- -whether they were the large one or smaller service doors- -she would immediately know that something was wrong. An invisibility spell, even a very good one, would not hold up to a check for pony lifesigns using magic- -nor would the thin leather that Silent Zephyr was wearing stand up to a bolt of Celestia’s magic.

So she waited. Approaching Luna had given her at least one advantage: she knew what she was watching for. After several minutes, she saw it: a light-gray gelding pushing a cart with an oversized, covered silver platter on it. He was delivering Celestia’s private meal.

Silent Zephyr followed him, something that was not at all difficult. He was not a freakish soldier like the bat mare that had been with Luna; he was a simple servant. He did not have the skills or abilities to detect an invisible pony trailing him, hiding her sound in the low creaking of his own cart and the sound of his hoofsteps in the empty halls.

He led her around the room to service entrance and pushed open the door. While he was pushing the cart through, Silent Zephyr took flight and passed directly over him, expertly missing his head by mere inches. He never even noticed.

The room inside defiantly belonged to Celestia. It was covered in golden stone and dark marble and lit with torches that filled it with bright, sunlight-like light. A set of steps on one side led to her ornate throne, which was surrounded by two metal murals cast from steel and gold, depicting the sun and sky. What Silent Zephyr found strange was that there were only images of the sun- -which implied that there was, somewhere, a separate throne room for little Luna. Or perhaps a this extremely luxurious set of accommodations was just Celestia’s private locale.

Silent Zephyr took flight and hid herself in shadows in one corner of the room. As she looked down, she saw that she was definitely in the right place. In the center of the room, an elaborate table had been set. Celestia herself, in minimalist gold armor, sat at the head of it alone, waiting patiently to be served.

The servant wheeled his cart over to the table and began removing courses of various items onto the table. To Silent Zephyr’s disgust, all of them were desserts. The idea of eating that many sweets for dinner made her ill.

“And the main course,” said the servant, placing the large covered plate before Celestia. With his hoof, he whisked off the lid, and Silent Zephyr barely suppressed a gasp of horror.

The plate did not contain a dessert, or even any real food. Instead, it contained a mare. She was bound and shaved, placed on the plate in a puddle of savory juices, which the servant promptly ladled over her even as she struggled against her bindings and tried to scream through the apple shoved in her mouth, and served with a delicate garnish.

Silent Zephyr recognized her, if not in name in image. She was one of several Resistance soldiers who had gone missing. She had reviewed their names and pictures of their faces before entering the castle- -but only distantly. She had been far more concerned with the schematics; she knew that most ponies that went into the castle never came back out.

“It looks delicious,” said Celestia, smiling.

“Thank you, your highness,” said the servant, bowing. It was quite possible that he was also the “cook” in this case. “Shall I have a similar dish brought to her young highness Luna as well?”

Celestia smiled and stared at him for a moment. Then, without losing her smile, her horn glowed. Before Silent Zephyr could blink, the servant was thrown against the nearest wall with an impossible force, nearly impacting Silent Zephyr on his way. When she looked up, she realized in horror that his legs were twisted at all the wrong angles. Every bone in his body had been shattered.

Still Celestia did not release him. She pulled him back with her magic, leaving a trail of blood across the stone floor. When he was back at her side, she poured magic into him. He cried out as his bones reset themselves, repairing and twisting with sickening cracks and clicks. When he was healed, Celestia dropped him to his knees on the floor.

“Never,” she hissed, no longer smiling. “Never even think about forcing my sister to experience such an atrocity. If she ever even learns of this, I will burn you alive and repair you as many times as it takes to destroy your mind to the point where even I cannot repair it.”

“Yes…your majesty,” said the gelding through his tears.

“Now leave me.”

The servant stood, shaking, and bowed. He took the now empty cart and wheeled it away. In a few seconds, he was gone, and Celestia was left alone with her meal.

“Now for you,” she said, smiling. Her dish tried to escape and recoil as Celestia gently ran her hoof down her meal’s back. She then pulled it back and licked off the gravy. “Ah,” she said. “So sweet. And so beautiful…”

The pony quivered and tried to pull back. Silent Zephyr wondered if she was somehow attached to the plate itself.

“Do not worry,” said Celestia. “I do not mean it in that way at all. I greatly preffer stallions over mares.” He sighed and put her had on one of her hooves, staring down at the shaved and basted pony before her. “Although, between you and me, it is rather unfortunate that all I keep is geldings. Of course, a necessary sacrifice. I do not trust stallions around my sister, aside from those bats she keeps with her- -and I know they would never hurt her. And I imagine they would ignore you. So I can assume, I suppose, that you have not been stuffed.” She reached down and pulled the apple out of the mare’s mouth.

The mare coughed. “You will never get any information out of me!” cried the pony. “I shall never betray the Revolution!”

“Really,” said Celestia, looking bored, picking up a fork in her magic and turning it over before her. “Please reconsider, if you will. I am not an unreasonable pony. In fact, you and I have reasonably similar goals. I would be happy to let you leave. In fact, I would love nothing more. I am a loving, caring goddess.”

“Buck you!”

The fork in Celestia’s magic suddenly lurched forward. The pony on the plate cried out as it pierced her flank. “Stop! Stop!” she cried, pulling away.

“Why should I?” said Celestia. “Do you know how much this hurts me? But it must be done. If you cannot help me, then all I can do is eat you.”

“You wouldn’t,” said the pony, suddenly seeming afraid, staring up at the bloody fork as Celestia lifted a long, serrated carving knife. “I’m…I’m raw…”

“Not for much longer.” Celestia lifted her gold-clad hoof, and it ignited with solar energy, the instantly heating until it was white-hot. “Hmm,” she said. “Your cutie mark is so beautiful. A lily, I believe? Perhaps I will start there…”

She moved her superheated hoof close to the pony’s rump, and Silent Zephyr held her breath. She had heard about Celestia’s power, and about how much devastation she had caused in just nine years of power- -but she had never imagined such depravity. Worse, there was nothing she could do. If she intervened, or even tried to, Celestia would know of her presence and surely kill her- -perhaps having her for dessert.

“No,” said the pony. “NO! PLEASE NO!”

“It is out of my control,” sighed Celestia, bringing her hoof close enough for the flesh on the pony’s rump to start to singe. The mare cried out in pane, but found she could not escape. To Silent Zephyr’s horror, she realized that the pony smelled delicious.

“I’ll talk!” she said at last. “Just let me live! Don’t eat me! For the love of the Madgod, please don’t eat me!”

Celestia took her hoof away and lowered the fork and carving knife. She breathed a sigh that almost sounded relieved. “Thank you,” she said.

“What do you want to hear,” said the pony through her tears. Silent Zephyr momentarily considered approaching and ending the traitor, but knew that doing so would betray her presence- -and knowing that she could never bring herself to do such a thing after what she had just witnessed.

“The cerorite,” said Celestia, leaning forward, her voice filled with seriousness. “I have two of the pieces. Your ‘movement’ has the third. Where is it?”

“It’s not here,” whined the pony. By the smell of things, she was now basted in something other than gravy alone. “It’s not here….”

“I know it is not here. If it was here, you and I would not be having this conversation.” She turned the plate with one great twist, forcing the pony to look her in the face. “What are you intending to use it for? To kill me? Or to attack Luna?”

“Kill you?” said the pony, confused. “No…I don’t understand it, but they are using it in a machine…”

“What manner of machine…”

“I don’t know…” she started sobbing. Celestia picked up the fork again, and the pony screamed in terror, further basting herself. “But I know what it does! It makes holes! Not in things, but in the air- -it goes to somewhere where we can’t breathe, with a black sky! The others- -the others already went through! I don’t know how to get there! Please Celestia, please, my goddess! Do not eat me!”

Celestia chuckled. “Of course…actually, that is rather brilliant of them. To use a an indestructible gemstone as the anchoring point. An object without magic as the tether to a spell. Nevertheless, you have given me enough.” Her magic cut the pony’s bindings, and she helped her off the table. “You have served me well. You will now be my personal guest. A guest of honor, even. Or, if you like, you may leave.”

“Really?”

“No.”

Celestia promptly reduced her to a small pile of glowing embers. She then sat back in her chair and pulled up a piece of soft, delicate cake. She wiped the blood off her fork and took a large bite. “It is too late for your kind to swear allegiance. You had your chance. Both of you.” She turned, her violet eyes staring directly at Silent Zephyr. “Oh yes, Silent Zephyr. I can see you. But you I will allow to live. Return to Cotton Swab in the Gloame. Tell him I am coming. But before you go…”

Her horn illuminated. There was no time for Silent Zephyr to dodge. She closed her eyes and felt a sharp surge of heat on her back- -followed by the sound of two soft objects falling to the stone floor on either side of her.

“For attempting to touch Luna,” she said. “But do not worry. From this moment, your time is limited. I will kill you. Just not right now. Perhaps after dessert…” She smiled with odd sincerity, and then went back to her cake.

All Silent Zephyr could do was run. She did not even have a chance to collect her severed wings, or to maintain the illusion of being undetected. She simply ran, as fast as she could, knowing that it was now all she could do.

Thunder roared through the sky, and Fluff-Ball looked up toward the sky. It was black to the point of opacity, but did not prevent light from shining on the land. Intense lightning passed through it, trailing slowly across the clouds, failing to dissipate until it formed massive electrical networks that seemed to recede to higher above, like the veins of great leaves of energy.

As he watched, the ground around him seemed to shake. The small magnetic pebbles on the surface of the unearthly rocky land began to jitter and then rise, flying slowly upward into the toxic skies overhead.

“It even rains backward here,” said his brother, Poof-Ball, who marched beside him. His voice sounded strange through the filter mask he wore.

Fluff-Ball did not respond. He did not want his twin to know that he was afraid. This place was wrong. Physically, it was dangerous- -but the deformities of this world went far beyond that. Every strange, fungoid tree and odd motion of unseen things in the brush beneath the infected-looking sky was like a hammer falling upon his finely tuned warrior’s instincts. It was impossible to place what was truly wrong with the place, only that it was not a place meant for ponies.

This was the only place left for them, though. Exmoor had fallen, and his people were now without a homeland. Through the machinations of their leader, the great General Cotton-Swab, the last of the Exmoori as well as the United Resistance Army had managed to escape Equestria, fleeing to a region that the demon-goddess Celestia could never reach.

He looked behind him. Through the stone or metal trees, he could see the countless thousands marching through the underbrush. Unicorns, Pegasi- -both flighted and burrowing- -earth ponies, as well as the remainder of the Fluff-Ball’s own kind now wandered this cursed dimension, searching out a place to found a new Exmoor.

Their exact motivation varied. Many sought only to use this realm as a base of operations. Their intention was the use the Violet Crystal to return to Equestria once they were stronger, when their armies were more powerful, to return once again and take back what had been stolen from them. Others, however- -especially those who traveled with children- -instead sought to start a new life in the far realm, where the air alone could kill with a single breath.

Fluff-Ball himself did not know where he stood between the two positions. More than anything, he was tired of the fighting. He could not bear the thought of dishonor or surrender- -even though he knew that with his coat, Celestia would not have accepted it anyway- -but he did not want to kill anymore, or to watch his friends die.

At the same time, he knew that this place was not meant for them. It was too toxic, to strange, and too dead. It reeked of something that no pony should ever mettle with. This Gloame was not place to raise a family.

What he did know was that his heart burned with hatred. It was directed toward only one being- -the Overlord Celestia. Tens of thousands of his own people had been slain by her- -as well as those of the other races, individuals of whom Fluff-Ball now viewed as comrades who he would die for.

Defeat alone would not have been so bad if the fight had been fair. To fight a long, hard battle and die with a sword or mace in one’s hand was the greatest glory that his kind could ever desire. Celestia did not allow for such things, though. She did not fight like a pony: she did not form armies, and stood with no brothers of arms. She fought alone, raining unstoppable solar death from above, or, rarely, trailed by her tiny filly sister, the blue alicorn Luna, who carried in her wake the insanity and disease of the moon. To stand against them was impossible, and all who they felled suffered the insult of being defeated with such horrible ease.

“Brother, on our left,” said Poof-Ball, motioning for them to move to the side. As they did, Fluff-Ball looked upward. Lumbering past him in the opposite direction was one of the stone giants. It stood taller than the trees, but moved amongst them with instinctive ease, the various parts of its body disconnecting and reforming as necessary while its three pointed stone legs carried it forward.

The giants deeply unnerved Fluff-Ball, and although they did not appear dangerous, he had heard the unicorns whispering about them. They said that they were something called “go-lems”, and some among them believed that they were the product of a wizard’s spell. The very idea of a wizard inhabiting this apocalyptic environment was terrifying to Fluff-Ball; whatever sentient creature that chose to inhabit such a place was either terribly fearsome or devastatingly insane.

“By Fluffle,” said Poof-Ball in awe. “The majesty of such a creature…imagine what its capacity would be in the midst of battle…”

Fluff-Ball did not want to. Even if the giants were not dangerous, they were not safe be around either. Several days earlier, they had passed a kind of low swampy area and discovered something reminiscent of a castle- -or at least, that was the general consensus among the ponies of the Resistance. Pegasi scouts had been dispatched to explore, and returned with stories of a strange structure carved from rocks that seemed to follow no logical form of sane architecture- -it was said to be filled with oddly sloping floors and rooms with excessive numbers of walls, and passages that could only be used by those who could fly.

General Cotton Swab had declared that it would be their place of occupation, the new home, and a potential location for New Exmoor. As it turned out, however, the strange system was filled with an abnormal number of stone giants. They did not seem to react to the excursion by the Pegasi, or even by the first walking ponies to enter. As more came, however, they became highly agitated.

Many among the Resistance were willing to fight them, but then something unexpected happened. As soon as the heavy machinery- -artillery, tanks, heavy machine guns, reactors, bombs, and aircraft pulled from Equestria- -was pulled toward the location, the giants immediately descended upon it. They tore apart the machines, disassembling them with expert care and carrying the pieces back to the castle. The ponies had attempted to defend their precious equipment, but their weapons and magic had little if any effect on the giants. Eventually, it was decided that attempting to lay siege would be unwise, and the army continued onward into the toxic wilderness.

“Brother,” said Fluff-Ball. “Do you sense anything…strange about this place?”

“I sense that it is dangerous, indeed,” said Poof-Ball. Oddly, he was smiling, his mouth being visible through the transparent parts of his breathing apparatus. “But danger is not so bad, I think. A place for the strong, where a life can be cut out through work and sacrifice. A place for only true warriors to dwell. Poetic, is it not?”

“If we preferred danger, we ought to have remained in Equestria.”

“No, no. The danger is different. Not from a tyrant, but from the only tyrant we must respect. That of nature, and of the trials of life.”

“This place contains no true nature.”

“Cheer up, brother! Recall that we are led by the greatest among us. Recall that, for once in so long, the ponies of Equestria stand without race- -save for the accursed gohh- -together, against a common enemy.”

“Brother,” said Fluff-Ball in awe, “how do you retain such optimism?”

“By resolve alone, of course.”

Fluff-Ball wished that he could have such resolve. Even during the war, even when he had been just a colt slaying Pegasi and earth ponies on the battlefield, he never had the resolve of Poof-Ball. Of the two of them, only Poof-Ball was the true warrior. If it had not been for him, Fluff-Ball would long ago have fallen, either in battle or to the mental corrosion of a life spent in constant battle. His brother was the only thing that allowed him to survive, and to continue. Even in the Gloame, he would follow his brother until death.

They walked in silence for several minutes, listening to the sound of the hooffalls of the fellow soldiers around them, and from each other. Then Poof-Ball interrupted the quiet.

“Brother, look there!” he ran forward, bounding over the thick sideways trunks of the trees around them.

“Poof-Ball, weight!” cried Fluff-Ball, walking around the roots or squeezing his body between them. Despite his thick coat, his actual body was slightly smaller than that of an earth pony, allowing him to fit through spaces that would, to an observer, appear impossible for him to fit through.

“There you are,” said Poof-Ball. As Fluff-Ball approached, he saw his brother focused on something on the ground.

“What is it?” asked Fluff-Ball, panting.

“See for yourself,” he said, stepping aside.

Fluff-Ball gasped. There, on the ground, was a tiny dark-colored stain containing two tiny, glowing eyes. It seemed to be moving or shifting, as though it were a shadow cast by water- -but Fluff-Ball could see no source of light to cast a shadow, let alone the object that was casting it.

“I think it is alive,” said Poof-Ball. Almost in response, the shadow moved toward him slowly, its wide, luminescent eyes staring up at him.

“Leave it alone,” said Fluff-Ball. “Come. We need to return to formation.”

“In a moment,” said Poof-Ball. “They will surely not miss us for a short trip. Besides, this could be useful intelligence.” He reached out his hoof toward the creature. It was barely as wide as the hoof was, but did not seem to recoil. If anything, it seemed to move forward slowly, as if it wanted to be crushed underhoof.

“No, you fools!” cried a voice from behind them. Fluff-Ball heard galloping. “Get away from it!”

Poof-Ball did not listen. He lowered his hoof, and seemed to touch the creature. He suddenly cried out, pulling his hoof back. Fluff-Ball looked down in horror at his brother’s foreleg: a significant part of flesh had been removed, and blood was pouring from it readily.

Fluff-Ball watched as Poof-Ball stared at the wound, not in pain but in surprise. Then Poof-Ball turned to his brother, and opened his mouth as if to speak. Words did not come, though. Instead his eyes only widened, and Fluff-Ball was vaguely aware of an inky shadow suddenly appearing below his brother.

Poof-Ball suddenly cried out as he was slammed to the ground, pulled down by an unseen force. He seemed to lay on the ground for a moment, unable to rise, but then, as he screamed, was dragged sideways toward the brush, leaving behind thick trail of blood that rapidly vanished, as though it were being absorbed into the ground itself- -or wiped away by an unseen cloth.

Fluff-Ball drew his gun, but could not see what to fire at.

“Brother!” screamed Poof-Ball. “Help me!”

“Hold on!” cried Fluff-Ball, holstering his weapon. He leapt forward after his brother, intending to grab him and pull him back, only to feel a sudden impact on his side as a pony tackled him to the ground.

“HELP ME!” screamed Poof-Ball, and Fluff-Ball could feel the pain in his voice as he was dragged into darkness. He struggled under the pony holding him down, trying to reach out.

“Brother!” he cried.

“No! Let me go! Don’t- -” then there was only screaming. It only lasted for a moment; from the darkness came a fine red mist and sudden puff of hair, both of which dissolved rapidly in the darkened air.

“Brother!” screamed Fluff-Ball. “Let me go! I have to save him!”

“There is nothing you can do for him now!” said the pony above him.

From the darkness, the shadows asserted to move again. This time they were reaching outward toward Fluff-Ball and the mare holding him back.

A glow of powerful green magic surged forward, striking the shadow and then forming an expanding, charged circle. The shadows were driven backward, and Fluff-Ball cried out in despair as the green light met where his brother lay. All that was left was a skeleton, its breathing apparatus and weapons still intact, Poof-Ball’s mouth still open in a horrible scream.

The shadows poured out and separated, and stood just beyond the rim of the spell. There were hundreds of them, all staring with unblinking, expressionless white eyes. There were so many eyes, all watching from the forest, waiting- -for more blood, and more meat.

“Brother!” sobbed Fluff-Ball. With a surge of strength, he extricated himself from the mare holding him back and stumbled forward. He took up his twin’s bones in his forelegs, and they collapsed back onto the ground, his skull rolling apart from the rest, the jaw dislocation.

“No no no,” he cried, holding the bones close. “It was to be me! Me! I was to be the first to go, not you!”

He turned to the mare who had stopped him, not in thankfulness but in anger. It was her fault that he had not been able to reach his brother in time- -it was she who had let him die. When he saw her, though, he gasped as he realized who she was.

The unicorn behind him, her horn still glowing with the shield spell, was a badly scarred, with the entire front three quarters of her body covered in the remains of grotesque burns. Even her eyes were gone, replaced with a pair of unblinking cybernetic prosthetics. The only part of her that remained was her cutie mark- -a single green calla lily blossom.

“Commander Blood Tide,” said Fluff-Ball, instinctively standing and saluting. There was not a pony in the Resistance who did not know of Blood Tide, the most powerful of all their wizards, one of just a few who were considered strong enough to stand beside Cotton-Swab himself on the field of battle.

“There was nothing you could do for him,” she said, her voice gruff with the scars that extended deep into her lungs. “Nor that I could do. Once the shadows take hold of a pony, there is no escape.”

“But he- -he was my brother…he was all I had left…”

“And he is not dead. All you can do is…” She trailed off as a device in her equipment belt began to click rapidly. Fluff-Ball’s did as well, as did Poof-Ball’s, even though the leather of his under-fluff belts had been completely destroyed and the device now sat next to his remains.

“We have to go, soldier,” said Blood Tide. A bolt of her magic separated from her spell and took hold of Full-Ball’s foreleg, pulling him toward her.

“But my brother- -I can’t leave him!”

“He is dead! You heard the counter- -a storm is coming. We need to get under a shield now, unless you want to join him!”

“No,” said Fluff-Ball. Mentally, he considered it for just a moment- -but he knew that such a thing was unspeakable. It would be the greatest insult to Poof-Ball, to give up like that, and to his ancestors. “Just, please.”

Blood Tide nodded. She released him. “Just hurry.”

Fluff-Ball nodded, and dropped to his knees. He put his front hooves together and bowed to his brother. There was no time for a proper burial, so a shortened version of the farewell prayer would have to do.

“Brother,” he said. “I shall carry on in this world as you move to the next. May your forever-sleep be restful.”

He stood, and allowed Blood Tide to lead him away. As he ran toward where the unicorns were assembling the shield spells and the earth pony engineers were unfurling the shield-foil, he went with an aspect that he had not before had. Now, he knew what he needed to do. He had chosen, and this place, he decided, was no place for ponies. Celestia would pay for having forced them here. They would wait, but they would return. They would be the ones to reclaim Equestria, for freedom and honor.

Perhaps seeing the death of his brother had changed him, or perhaps his brother’s energy had merged back into Fluff-Ball where it had originally been separated between them in their mother’s womb. He knew now, though, that he most definitely had found his resolve.

The shifts began to grow faster. Twilight felt herself falling through memories faster and faster, passing through thousands of them. She saw so much, far more than she ever wanted. She saw their lives, and what they had seen, and the horrors of their era.

All of them led to a singular conclusion, though. Every single memory chain, every life that Twilight was forced to live- -they all concluded beneath the skies of the Gloame, all seeing the same thing from different angles. They heard an explosion, then saw a blinding light as a pony rose above their caravan of tens of thousands. In that light, they saw the silhouette of a pony, one clad in pure white war-armor, one who bore both wings and a horn. Then there was pain- -followed by nothing. They all died at exactly the same time. In one stroke, Celestia had ended them all.

Twilight cried out, but there was no air. There was barely even a Twilight anymore- -but she felt herself precipitated from the endless halls of cubes and fall to a floor below. For a moment she sat against the ephemeral, imaginary plane, breathing hard even though she knew that there was no real atmosphere. Her mind was trying to heal, processing the memories of so many lives, organizing them and storing them deep in her memory. Many were fading, disappearing, but many things she would not be able to ever forget.

Slowly, after what felt like an eternity, she stood. As she did, she found that she was not alone. She was standing across form a pony. He was highly ordinary; his form was that of an ordinary earth pony stallion, with a coat only slightly darker than Rainbow Dash’s. He had an ordinary blue mane and blue tail, and a set of colorless but ordinary eyes. Everything about him was normal, save for his cutie mark- -on each of his flanks was the image of an equilateral triangle.

“Twilight Sparkle,” he said in D27’s voice. “Firstly, I apologize for my current appearance. Normally, this interface would show a representation of the user. As I have no definite body, however, it cannot render me; it will likely attempt to display an idealized version of myself, which will no doubt be some horrible mass of shifting, amorphous flesh and bone, or perhaps an abomination of crystal. Please, just look away, and try not to be frightened.” He turned to where he seemed to expect her to be. From his motion and the way he spoke, Twilight could tell that this was some kind of recording.

“In her own time, Celestia was a tyrant,” said D27, his voice heavy. “A brutal murderer, a conqueror of lands. Does this excuse my actions, for killing her? No. Of course not. Nothing can excuse that. Whatever she once was, she is not now. So why did I give these memories to you? I suppose, because I can’t be the only one to have them. I see them constantly. I live them every second. But what use is a mindless weapon knowing of their lives? What purpose would that serve? No. A pony must know. And a pony must learn.”

He raised one of his hoofs, and a blue cube appeared over it, the same color as his coat. “This is the last memory. I kept it separate, because accessing this one is a separate choice. These are mine. Or, at least, what is left of them. These will explain my actions. You may take them, or not. It does not matter. You are inconsequential to my plans, and my ‘life’ is inconsequential to you. If you would rather leave…”

A door appeared in the darkness. It looked oddly similar to the one on Celestia’s hospital room.

Twilight stared at the door for a moment, and then approached D27’s avatar. It looked nothing like his true form- -it only looked like a pony. Then, without hesitation, Twilight took the cube.

She was immediately immersed in a mind that was far more turbulent than the minds she had contained before. Through D27’s eyes, she saw his life in pieces. She saw Trihorns and Draconians, cerorians and ponies, including one who, despite her grayness, had the most soulful eyes imaginable. Twilight saw the horror of a true Choggoth, and the Finallity Core, and comprehended what it was. She saw it open, and watched as base and roots of a great crystal tree emerged into ancient Equestria- -and she saw what D27 did to stop it.

His life became clear to her, and like the others, became part of her. Within it, she saw the fear, the pain, the desperation- -the reasons why he had to kill Celestia.

She also saw his life in Ponyville. His confusion, his fear. Then three fillies showed him kindness. She felt the taste of apples, and a dance with Pinkie Pie in an ancient castle, and saw as D27’s heart was filled hope- -until it was replaced with only anger and pain when the offer of friendship turned out to be a ploy to ensure his demise, even as he was only trying to protect those around him.

Twilight snapped back to the white hospital room, the cube disconnecting from her horn. And falling into her lap, returning to its cubic shape. Twilight found that she was soaked- -not just in tears, now, but in sweat. She shivered; her hair had been falling out in clumps recently, and she was forced to wrap her wings around herself to stay warm.

Celestia was still where she had been. She had not moved in the slightest, or even blink. She simply stared upward blindly.

“Oh Celestia,” said Twilight, tears welling in her eyes. She had to look away. Just seeing Celestia made the memories come back- -and when they did, Twilight understood why D27 had begged her not to use the cube. Where she had once seen a loving mother figure, she now saw a monstrous dictator. “Why? Why did you do it?”

“She did what she had to,” said a vaguely familiar voice beside Twilight. Twilight turned, and froze as she found herself staring into the eyes of Nightmare Moon.

“Y- -you,” said Twilight, finding herself suddenly unable to move. She found that the use of the cube had exhausted her.

“Did your mother not teach you never to stick your horn in places that it does not belong?” said Nightmare Moon, picking up the cube in her black-colored magic. To Twilight’s surprise and confusion, Nightmare Moon was dressed far differently than the last time they had met. Instead of a silver harness and boots, she now wore a delicate silver cuirass, one decorated with intricate designs. Her rear was covered in something like a robe or dress that clearly- -and impossibly- -looked like something Rarity had designed. On her head, she wore a strange kind of helmet, one contained a hole for her horn but also two spikes- -one farther in front of her horn, and behind it. As Twilight’s fragmented, recovering mind slowly turned, she realized that in this state, with those eyes and that bizarre crown, Nightmare Moon looked almost exactly like a smaller, thinner version of a trihorn mare.

The cube shifted in her grasp, and it split, expanding outward with an impossible change in mass. Blue images appeared around it, displaying symbols in Draconian. “As I suspected,” she said. “He filled it almost completely. You are extremely lucky that you are an alicorn. If a unicorn had attempted to read this as you just did, he would have been driven mad instantly. I can only hope that Oblivion knew that fact.”

“Nightmare…Nightmare Moon…” said Twilight. She jumped out of her chair and raised her horn, but just summoning enough magic to make it glow made her dizzy and nearly caused her to faint.

“If you must know,” said Nightmare Moon, “it nearly destroyed her.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I was there. And so was Luna. Toward the end of the First Era, Celestia collapsed into despondency. She suffered greatly. Luna was forced to take the throne, and I alongside her. Luna, at least, had me to do protect her from the things no pony should have had to face. She, however…she did not.”

Twilight Looked to Celestia as Nightmare Moon walked to the foot of Celestia’s bed. “I abhor her actions. It may not seem it, but I loathe violence and conflict. In life…so to speak…I only wanted to be left alone, to pursue my path and ensure my survival. But I can understand. This land of yours was built by her. She suffered and sacrificed to make her vision of a more perfect world a reality. I suppose I can find it within myself to admire that.”

“How can you know?”

“Because I was there. Not just in her time. So long before. I saw endless war. I saw myself and my beloved hosts murdered time and time again. From the time my first father destroyed the Citadel to the time of Luna…not until Celestia did this land have the peace it deserved.”

Twilight looked up at Nightmare Moon, into her eyes. They were not like the eyes she had seen the last time she had fought Nightmare Moon. Aside from never blinking, they held no hate or anger. They were indifferent to the world, but somehow sincere and genuine.

“How are you here?” demanded Twilight, still maintaining her defensive stance. “I defeated you…we defeated you, with the Elements of Harmony. You can’t be here!”

“And yet I am,” said Nightmare Moon, staring directly into Twilight’s eyes, leaning forward and smiling with her pointed teeth. Only in D27’s memories had contained as realistic an image of a trihorn. “Because you, Cadence, and Luna were all too weak, and Celstia too incompetent. Equestria is mine now. And I intend to keep it alive.”

“You’ll never succeed!” cried Twilight.

“Show some respect,” said Nightmare Moon. “This is a hospital.”

Twilight’s mind was racing. She did not understand how this could have happen. Nightmare Moon was standing before her, fully resurrected- -something that she knew was impossible, or should have been impossible. Twilight could not think of what to do, but she knew that she had to defend Celestia at all costs.

“Luna,” she said. “Luna, you have to listen to me. I know you’re in there- -”

“I am not Luna,” snapped Nightmare Moon. “It was you who made sure of that, after all. You thought you were curing Luna of me…but you really cured me of her. Do not try to appeal to her. I find it tiresome. This is not the time for her.”

“I won’t let you hurt her!” cried Twilight. She had realized that she had not chance at defeating Nightmare Moon, not without the Elements of Harmony. All she could do instead was throw herself over Celestia’s body.

“I did not come to hurt her,” said Nightmare Moon, sounding annoyed. “I came to send her back to the sun.”

“No!” cried Twilight. “I won’t let you!” She summoned all of her energy into her horn, and fired it at Nightmare Moon. All that came out was a thin ball of static that resembled purple cotton. It slowly drifted across the room and struck Nightmare Moon in the shoulder, doing exactly as much damage as a ball of non-magical cotton would. “You’ll have to send me to!”

“Even if that were possible- -and it is not- -you would be killed instantly. The sun is as hot as the moon is colt…so very cold…” She looked up at Twilight, and her expression hardened. “I can see into her mind. She is not unconscious.”

“Not…” said Twilight, looking at Celestia’s face. Twilight shivered, realizing that she was lying on what was essentially a pony corpse.

“No. She is in unimaginable pain right now. I need to send her back.”

“How could you do that to your own sister?”

“She is not my sister. Nor is she really Luna’s, either. You misunderstand me. As alicorns, our bodies are made of flesh, but matter is charged with and interchangeable with energy. It is the reason why we age so slowly, and the reason why we can never bear children.”

“Wait- -what?”

“Yes,” sighed Nightmare Moon. “I had honestly assumed that you knew that when you activated Starswirl’s dark spell. You are sterile. As is Luna, and Celestia. Even Cadence. Why do you think Celestia never once had a foal in five thousand years?”

“I…” Twilight looked down at herself. She had always assumed, at least at some level, that she would one day have foals- -and, more importantly, that she would have nieces and nephews. “No!” she said, clinging more tightly to Celestia. “You’re lying!”

“The point is that only her matter can be seamlessly meshed with the sun, as only Luna’s can be meshed with the moon. The parasite within her is not of her. It will be destroyed in the solar blaze.”

“And you will be left to rule Equestria,” spat Twilight.

“I already rule Equestria,” said Nightmare Moon, frowning. “Princess Cadence stands at my side, as do your friends. Did you not receive the transmission? Or where you too busy wasting tears on a that skin-shell you are so intent on protecting?”

“Don’t talk about her like that!” cried Twilight. Her anger was beginning to overpower her sadness. “I love her, like she was my own mother! She taught me about magic, and about friendship- -”

“And she slaughtered several million ponies single hoofedly over the course of three hundred years.”

“I don’t care!” screamed Twilight, squeezing Celestia tighter. “I don’t care! I won’t let you take her, and I will never swear my allegiance to you!”

Nightmare Moon actually blinked for once, with surprise. “Is that what you think I am asking you for?”

“What else would you want?”

“Certainly not your loyalty. I do not desire it. Nor do I desire your love, or adoration, or friendship. You are meant to hate me, and I am meant to be hated and feared because I really do not care. I am not asking for your allegiance. I am asking for your help.”

“My what?”

“Your help, you simple-minded demigod. Look around you. Equestria is falling. Celestia is dying- -Oblivion has risen! Even if you do allow me to save Celestia’s life, her condition is grave. It will take several months for her to heal. Equestria needs a ruler. I am the only pony strong enough, but even I cannot do it alone.

“Or, to phrase it another way. You saw what she had to do to make Equestria. The atrocities she committed, and those that Luna was forced to alongside her. To this day, Luna cannot ever enter Celestia’s dreams- -all that she would ever find is screaming and pain. No mortal was meant to bear the burden that Celestia must. What she sacrificed, and what all those ponies sacrificed- -it was all for Equestria. Would you allow that sacrifice to be wasted?”

“So that you can have power?”

“I do not desire power. The only thing I ever desired was immortality, and I already have that. But I will protect Equestria, if only for my beloved Luna.”

Twilight did not know what to believe. She wanted to believe Nightmare Moon, but knew that it was more than unwise, but dangerous. Nightmare Moon was the greatest evil that had ever befallen Equestria, and one of Celestia’s greatest regrets. This Nightmare Moon seemed different, though. She was not a haughty, jealousy driven ruler. If anything, she sounded oddly disinterested, as if she were not quite entirely alive.

The worst part was that Twilight knew that she was right. She had lived the lives of countless thousands of ponies, and seen what had to be sacrificed to make Equestria. Distantly, she could feel Equestira failing. It felt dark and cold, as if the air around her were becoming saturated with something horrible that was not truly evil. Fear, hatred, anger, jealousy, pain- -disharmony. All of it pouring in from all sides like an oppressing, sickly heat- -and yet none of it coming from Nightmare Moon.

“Can you really save her?” she asked.

“I can only try. Returning her to the sun will atomize her body, and remove the Choggoth fragment that is within her. But from there, it will be her duty to repair herself. I cannot guarantee that she will ever be able to return.”

“But there is no other way,” said Twilight, painfully aware of Celestia’s medical situation. She closed her eyes and slid off Celestia. She leaned close to her mentor’s face.

“Princess,” she said. “I’m sorry. But it’s going to be okay. You are going to come back. I know you. This won’t stop you for long…but please hurry. When you come back, Equestria will be waiting.”

She stepped back, and looked away. From the corner of her eye, she saw Nightmare Moon lower her horn without hesitation. Black energy swirled around it, and stretched out toward Celestia.

Twilight turned, suddenly regretting her acquiescence, but it was already too late. Celestia’s body glowed and then burst apart into tiny flecks of golden light. The sparks swirled in Nightmare Moon’s magic- -and the blue, gletatious substance within them began to char and recoil from the heat. Then, in a sudden instant, they shot upward through the ceiling, passing through it without damage. Celestia was already on her way to the sun.

“This does present a certain problem,” said Nightmare Moon.

“What?” said Twilight. “She’s safe, isn’t she?”

“No. She actually can be killed much more easily now.”

“Then you lied to me- -”

“I did not. This derives from the nature of our relationship. One of us must always walk the earth. This is perhaps what Oblivion was always planning. Now, if Luna is slain and the moon dies, so will the sun, and Celestia with it. He will almost surely be coming for me now.”

“What can I do to help?” said Twilight.

Nightmare Moon turned to her. “You have already helped. Not just me, now, but Luna. You were her first real friend in so many centuries. But this is not the fight for the Princess of Friendship. I only ask for your understanding, and to know why I will do what I must do, and, above all things, do not hate Luna for what I choose to do.”

“I would never,” said Twilight. “Actually…it seems that I’ve already hurt a pony that I should not have. I will not do the same thing again, especially not to Luna.”

“I can only hope so,” said Nightmare Moon. She stepped away from Celestia’s empty bed, and put one of her black wings around Twilight. Twilight shivered- -it was even colder than Celestia had been. She did not know if what she did was right, or if it was wrong- -but she did what she had to do. Times were changing, and perhaps Nightmare Moon was right- -that, at least for now, the era of the Sun had ended.