The pain never came.

Had death spared me from the torture of dying? Was this nauseating blackness I saw before my eyes that which awaits us all? I saw the world itself split open as all history bloomed and died again and again, each time taking a different curve, a path stranger still. The vast infinity which played out before me, over and over, was too much for me to contain. All I could comprehend were flashing images, abstract scenes and occasions of amazing magnitude. The fulcrums of history upon which the machinations of all destiny turn.

I could not bear it.

My mind was spared total collapse, however, as the visions slowed down. Gradually, they grew simpler. Now I saw things I recognised, forms that I understood.

A candle. The candle rests upon a wooden table. The table is simple in construction, yet ornately pulsates with some form of majesty and greatness. But it's not the table. It is the one standing by it. She is looking down at the table. But she is not eyeing the table. There are papers. Some are dry and yellow, able more to be broken than torn. Dust seems to escape the hairline cracks upon their surface. Others seem new. Fresh. Their smell, I know that smell. It is that of fresh ink. Torn pages from a book, perhaps?

No. They address the mare reading them. They are no excerpts from an arcane codex. They hold a message. A specific message to be read by one specific mare. Her sky-blue eyes move left to right, left to right as she reads the words inscribed on these peculiar letters.

A sudden pain. It hurts. And she can't see them now. Something rolls down her cheek and lands on a paper. And again. And once more. She blinks the tears away. Now her eyes are clear, yet she cannot read further. It is ruined. But she feels glad. She would not want to read on even if she could. But there's more. So many more.

Hate. Such hate. They hate her. All of them. Why do they hate her? Their hate turns into her anger. Her wings spread wide in her fury. Dark feathers fall as she flutters them in impotent frustration. The resulting gust of air blows out the candle. Now it is lit again. Her horn glows with passion. Who sends these letters?

Each one written differently. Some of them read with the precision and indifference of a scientist documenting the behaviour of a newly discovered being. Others radiate with disgust and hate, all of which is directed towards the reader. Yet others speak as if their mysterious writer was merely a messenger, relaying the words of those she met. Indeed, the author of these horrible scribblings claims to be a friend.

Her anger grows with each word she reads. Her deep blue mane is consumed by a pitch-black darkness. Her loving eyes light up with the passion of a glowing Moon. An unstable symphony of black and white. The darkness is taking over. It has been eating away at her for such a long time. It might reign victorious now. Such loneliness. Such despair. Such desperation. It will soon be over. She will no longer be despised. They shall love her. They shall adore her. They shall see her for the wonder that she is.

Each message is different. Every one of them written in another tone. Yet one thing remains constant. They are signed. All of them signed, it seems, by simple courtesy, for their creator has no intention of revealing an identity. “PDP,” reads the last line of them all. This “PDP” wants to help.

She picks up the last letter. A stabbing pain in her heart. It is the most horrific of them all.

A sudden light dispels the darkness of the room. A crashing sound signals the violent opening of its door. A white mare rushes in. The growing darkness at once recedes and returns to a pleasant dark blue of a summer night's sky.

The new arrival is worried. She asks about the latest message. Their nameless benefactor had given them a warning. This final message foretells the death of the dark mare. Murder. The letter urges her to prepare. She must live. She must reign gloriously over the Moon and night itself to gain the love of her subjects. And she would do anything to accomplish such. A bitterness once again fills her heart. She almost snaps. Her white sister breaks her out of it. She comforts her.

But it is too late. Within the mind of the young mare a wickedness spreads its roots. Destruction. Murder. An army. Eternal darkness. The fall of Canterlot. It seems inevitable.

As the white one stepped closer to the dark mare, leaning in for a soothing embrace, the scene dissolved before me. In a quick flash of light, an image of the Oracle appeared in front of me. She said no word, for her gaze spoke for her. In the blue oceans of her eyes I saw a determination of fatality. With a nod of her masked head, she herself disappeared as darkness engulfed my sight once again.

The visions were gone. I could feel a soft bed of grass pushing against my side. My head felt as if it would split apart at any moment. Clenching my teeth, I mustered the strength to open my eyes in one quick pull on my lids. The world itself seemed to spin around me. The dark green of the grass and trees at my left contrasted the starry night sky on my right.

“Arh..” I let a sound loose in a mix of a tired yawn and a pained groan.

I lifted my head from the ground and took a look around. The battlefield was gone. Canterlot was gone, replaced, it seemed, by a wide dirt road running through a forest. No, that is not right. I gazed upwards towards the stars. My suspicion was immediately confirmed: I was no longer in Canterlot.

I moved my shaky hooves carefully, one after the other, slowly standing up. I closed my eyes, trying desperately to process all that I had just seen. That strange, uncanny feeling at the back of my head, a feeling that I had felt somewhere before. It was the feeling of a dream slipping away through the cracks of one's mind after waking up. One minute one might recall a dream in its entirety, but in the next, they do not even remember the vaguest details. I could not let that happen. Whatever it was that I had seen was significant. It had to be.

Princess Luna reading letters, old and new. The letters talked of the indifference, and even hate, projected towards her by her subjects. Inside her soul, a darkness spread. I finally realised: it was the inception of her corruption. The catalyst of Nightmare Moon's birth from the pain of Princess Luna a thousand years ago. Hold on. The letters were signed. Signed by a certain—by Celestia! Could it be? Could they have been sent by Pinkamena Diane Pie? I laughed at the notion. There was no way.

As I gathered my thoughts in spite of the splitting headache I felt, I shook my head. I looked around once again in an attempt to determine where exactly I was. It was then that, looking down, I found the last piece of my personal puzzle. At my hooves lay the golden ouroboros of the Oracle. I understood, then, what her trinket was for. I understood, finally, why it failed to save the life of Fluttershy when I came for her, or, for that matter, why it remained useless all this time despite its unique magical aura. The trinket of the one who sees the future happened to find its way to me, just as it happened to be around my neck when I should have met my demise.

This sequence of coincidences was all too convenient.

Even though I admired the Oracle's creativity, I could not help but let a sprinkle of contempt stain the gratitude I felt for being saved. I picked her toy up once again, placing it around my neck one more time. Perhaps it held secrets yet to be uncovered. With the ouroboros resting again at my chest, I set my eyes on the faint light dancing above the forest in the distance. I knew it had to be the light of a settlement—a big one—and as such, I began my way there.

The last time I was here, there was nothing but a pitiful wooden bridge, bound by long-torn ropes, connecting one cliffside to the other. Yet now a magnificent stone bridge arched above the depths below, allowing me safe passage to the other side of this chasm. More powerful still than this sight was the that of what lay beyond: a pristine castle whose gigantic spires towered above the dark forest.

As I crossed the ornate bridge, I beheld the ancient Castle of the Twin Sisters. It was on this very ground that my fateful confrontation with Nightmare Moon took place so long ago. It was where my friends and I found the Elements of Harmony for the first time. Its ruins had been long ago defiled and abandoned, then, left to be overgrown by the wild flora of the forest. Yet now, as it stood tall above me, it was beautiful and whole. By all intents and purposes, its stones were newly crafted, its walls freshly erected, and patrolled by guards-stallions that were very much alive. Against all logic and possibility, it seemed that the main question was no longer where the Oracle's trinket had brought me—for I was clearly within what I knew as the Everfree Forest. Indeed, the question “When am I?” seemed so much more apt.

Even so, as I walked closer—astonished as I was—I could not stop myself from judging the castle's architecture. With my eyes so used to great Canterlot, the sight of the lone castle, out so far from the rest of the empire, and without an exterior set of walls guarding it, felt nothing short of strange. No wonder that Princess Celestia would one day leave this forsaken place to build her city atop the great mountains, closer to the stars.

“Halt!” A guard by the gates lifted his hoof, motioning for me to stop, as the rest raised their halberds and pointed them towards me. “Who goes there?”

Of course. If I was truly transported back in time itself, then I had not yet been born. I would not be born, in fact, for over a millennium from now. I was not—not yet—the personal student of Princess Celestia. They had no reason to allow me inside. Such a strange feeling. I cleared my throat and spoke up. “I come on a behalf of grave importance. I seek audience with the Princess of the Night.”

The guards at the back lowered their weapons. The one who stopped me bowed his head slightly before replying. “My apologies. We had to make certain that you are the one. The Princess had warned us to expect you.”

How eternally convenient. “Has she now?”

“Indeed. Please,” He stepped aside as his peers opened the gates for me. “She is eager to see you.”

Thus, my road to Princess Luna lay paved before me. The deep rumbling of the opening gates did little to distract me from the brilliance of the inner room. The last time I stepped in here, the chamber's crumbling stone pillars served only as grim reminders of a roof long caved in. Now, in their former glory, they withstood adamantly the weight of the ornamented stone-ceiling. Within the walls, great windows, once broken, now seemed not only to let in the glow of the stars and the Moon, but enhance them, bathing the room with white light. This silent solemnity was not wasted for the mere welcome of the castle's visitors, of course.

For at the centre of the room, high atop their pedestals stood and waited—as they would for another thousand years—the Elements of Harmony, still encased in their stone orb-prisons from which my friends and I would one day liberate them. Yet even now their glory was darkened by that unforgettable aura of corruption with which I was now so familiar with. Even in this time, it had already begun. According to the words of Princess Celestia, their horrible state was a direct result of the inner torment of Princess Luna. If the Elements were already tainted, then so was the Night Princess. Walking past this magnificent stone monument, guided by the pointing hooves of the guards at every corner, I continued my way to the Princess.

In the end, the guards led me to a room at the top of the tallest tower of the castle. This I recognised as the room I saw in my vision upon my arrival in this age. Behind me, the wooden door through which Princess Celestia had rushed in to see her crying sister. Pushed against the left side of the circular room was the oddly ordinary wooden table on which rested a number of papers, carefully stacked by a lone burning candle, with a single letter placed next to the collection of others, clearly somehow significant. At the far end of the room opened a balcony—and there, with her back directly toward the door, sat the Princess of the Night. She seemed to take no heed for my arrival, her gaze instead focused on the starry sky as she painted the night's horizon. A shooting star fell across the sky as I took my first step toward the Princess. The guard that had accompanied me into the room stayed by the door through which we entered.

As I walked slowly through the room, I could not resist but take a peek at the letter that rested apart from the rest. Inspecting it, I concluded that it was written not long ago, as betrayed by the unmistakable scent of fresh ink. Skimming it with a glancing look, I realised that it was a warning, written in a prophetic tone akin to that of mad doomsayers. It spoke of the nearing end to the life of Princess Luna; how she would be murdered by a certain lavender unicorn assassin as a culmination of the tension between her and her less-than loyal subjects, allowing the Princess of the Sun to reign in her place. And at the bottom of the page was the curious—and ever so familiar—signature of that PDP. Seeing the peaceful Princess Luna before me when only a few hours ago she was leading the greatest siege of history upon Canterlot, the idea that this PDP was in fact my Pinkamena Diane Pie seemed less and less outrageous. If the Oracle could help me physically arrive in the past, who was to say that Pinkamena could not have her letters appear a thousand years before her own life?

The implications of this idea were none too pleasant, either. If this was all true, and my eyes did not deceive me, then it meant that Pinkamena played pivotal role in the original corruption of the Elements—and subsequent inception and imprisonment of Nightmare Moon. For this one was only the most recent letter received by the Night Princess, and by no means the first. The stack of letters and torn papers that lay next to this one were carefully arranged: the most cracked and oldest at the bottom, newest at the top. Some of them looked years, if not even decades old, each talking about the growing contempt and hate the Equestrians felt towards the long, dark nights of Princess Luna. As evidenced by the shift in tone of the newer letters, as time progressed, the general dislike of the nights soon turned into anger felt for their creator, the one responsible for them all.

Whether these letters spoke the truth, I could not say. Their effect on the fragile psyche of the younger sister of Celestia was obvious, however. Her insecurity and inferiority complex began to spiral out of control. And now, I could sense, she was on the verge of losing her mind forever. This letter, it seemed, was the last straw. If Luna survived that night, the corruption of the Elements would become absolute—and the eventual fall and pillage of Canterlot by Nightmare Moon's unmeasurable changeling army inevitable. I understood, at that moment, what purpose the Oracle had planned for me. I had to end it all before it began.

I would murder Princess Luna.

As I turned away from the desk and walked closer to the balcony where the Night Princess was sitting, she finally turned her head to look at me. Her cold gaze made me stop dead in my tracks. She eyed me up and down, soon diverting her gaze towards the guard who guided me. “Leave us, please. Close the door behind you.”

The guard bowed and complied. With the door shut behind him, I was alone with the Princess.

“And here you are.” Still sitting with her back to me, she spoke quietly and calmly, without a hint of anger in her voice. “Just as it had been foretold.” Indeed, her tone was one of resignation.

“I see you knew I was coming.” I replied. “And, as I collect, you know what it is I am here for.”

“To end my life and nothing less. I have been warned of your arrival.”

“I am amazed by the lengths you went to in order to stop me.”

“Do not mock me, little foal!” Her voice grew stronger for a moment. “Is it not enough that you are here to murder me? Must you insult me before showing me what lies beyond?”

“I apologise, Princess. I was merely attempting to lighten the mood. Do tell me, where is Princess Celestia?”

“I asked her to leave the handling of this matter to me. She is not here.” She signed as she finally stood up before walking up to me, lifting her head above mine. Returning to her calm voice, she spoke again as she looked down on me. “I would never have thought that my death would come by the hooves of such a small creature. I wished to die with dignity, but seeing you? That might be asking too much.”

I ignored the petty insults she threw at me. “Make no mistake, Luna. One way or another, your life ends tonight. Yet I must ask, why not try to save yourself? Why have me led straight to you? The Princess I know would never roll over as such.”

“What do you know of me, tiny foal?”

“More than you could ever fathom.”

Silence befell the room for a few short minutes. We eyed one another, deducing information about the other without words.

In the end, she broke the silence. “Look at me, young one. I am despised by the very ponies I swore to protect and sustain.” She turned around, looking out to the night sky through the open balcony. “I wish they could see it the way I do. It is so beautiful.” She sighed again as she turned back toward me. “Yet they hate me. Yet they torment me. If I am to die, then at least I will face my death with dignity.” With little to no transition, her tone shifted from that of resignation to one of arrogance. “Do not think, for a moment, that I will stand and wait for death's embrace. I will fight to defend myself. I will kill you if I am given the chance. And if I fail—then I will die in the knowledge that I was not worthy of ruling over Equestria.”

“Then why have you not killed me yet? I am right here.”

“There is one thing I must know first. Are you here because you despise the night as the rest? Are you the people's messianic freedom-fighter? Or were you, perhaps, sent by the others? Is this petty revenge for my sister's past deeds? Who are you, you little lavender unicorn?”

“I know not what 'others' you speak of, and I am not a champion of your subjects. No, Princess Luna, I am here for my own reasons. And I know no pony that wants to see you dead more than I. My name is Twilight Sparkle, and I am here to save Equestria from you, Nightmare Moon.”

Upon hearing my last two words, she pulled a corner of her mouth up in disgust as her eyes lit up with their familiar white glow. Her dark-blue coat turned to black as her flowing mane darkened as well, becoming more similar to an ethereal mist blocking out the light of the stars and engulfing the room. The single candle which burned on the wooden table was at once extinguished as she spread her black wings.

“Very well then, Twilight Sparkle who fights for herself. Let us see what fate has in store.”

In one quick motion, she stood up on her hind legs, her front hooves immediately coming crashing down on the stone floor with the sound of thundrous lightning. The tower itself collapsed under the force, bringing the two of us—and anyone else within—down with itself.

As the dust cleared, I found myself in a dark corridor lit by a precious few torches embedded into the walls at regular intervals. All around me, I saw the rubble of the tower, its stone bricks scattered in chaotic piles. Behind me lay more debris from the fallen tower and the caved-in roof of this underground tunnel where I landed. With rubble obscuring my path to the surface, I had no choice but to follow along the straight tunnel.

As I slowly paced forward, the darkness of the place began to creep in on me. Yet more disturbing was the absence of the Princess. Considering our exchange, I knew she would not just leave me. Nonetheless, I marched on.

After countless minutes of walking along the seemingly endless tunnel, I was growing more and more nervous. One torch to the left, then one torch to the right. One to the left, one to the right. This same pattern repeated itself to infinity, both behind me and in front of me. There was simply no point. No end. I sat down to rest my hooves for a while, lowering my head as I stretched my numb legs. It was then that I heard that growl.

Before a single conscious thought ran through my head, my body had jumped forward by itself. Even so I could still feel the gust of air ruffling my mane as the monster swung its claws at me. Quickly turning around, I saw a fearsome lion with the wings of a bat and the venomous tail of a scorpion. It was a manticore just like the one my friends and I had faced—and failed to defeat—on that fateful night. The beast stood there, a good distance away from me, with a bloodthirsty look in its eyes. As it pounced at me and flailed its claws in its attempt to catch me, I was all too busy focusing on evading its attacks to even wonder as to how the gigantic beast appeared behind me in the narrow corridor through which I had just passed. Nonetheless, desperately evading its attacks, I attempted to come up with a plan to pacify the beast.

Then suddenly, I heard a quiet whimpering. The manticore stopped its assault and stood frozen in its place. From behind the monster, a familiar face stuck her head out. Although her pink hair obscured half of her face, I could still make out that the pegasus with a faded yellow coat was Fluttershy. The manticore stepped aside to make way for her as she walked towards me, silently crying.

“You—you can't be here!” I rejected what my eyes showed me.

“Am I the first ghost you've met, Twilight?” She asked without even looking me in the eye. “Can't I be here?”

“What do you want?” I asked the spirit.

“I want to help you, Twilight. Just the way I had helped us all that one time.”

“The manticore listens to you, then? Make it disappear! Tell it to go away!”

“I'd love to, Twilight. But I can't.” She leaned closer to me, whispering to me. “You see, Twilight, I'm dead.”

The manticore's roar echoed through the long tunnel as it jumped at me once again. I dodged its attack, running further along in the opposite direction, screaming to the spirit of Fluttershy to make it stop. No response. I yelled and shouted, but she was gone, having left me alone with the beast. Growing ever more tired as the monster chased me, I knew I could not keep up for long. It's strange. So many times I have found that while I was under the most pressure—usually fighting for my life—I get the brightest and craziest of ideas. This new one which came to me was also all too simple. You know what they say, I thought as I ran forward with the manticore closing in on me, the best solution to a problem is usually also the easiest one. With one powerful pull, I tore a torch from its place in the wall and pushed it against the manticore's body. Its long mane was the first thing to light up.

It no longer cared for chasing me. It no longer wanted to kill me. Instead it squirmed pitifully as the fire spread across its fur. Howling in pain, it soon succumbed to the devouring flames. I watched as they slowly consumed it, eating away first at its coat and fur, then its very flesh.

I heard, again, the soft voice of Fluttershy from behind me. “I see you found a way to solve your problem. The solution you use to solve all of your problems. You helped it the way you helped me.”

I turned around to respond to the spirit, but she was gone. Instead I saw once again the clear starry sky. In my running, it seemed, I have reached the end of the tunnel: it opened to a gentle hillside. Leaving the burned beast behind, I walked out into the night. Below the hill lay the Everfree Forest. With still no sight of Princess Luna, I somehow felt compelled to enter.

I walked slowly between the dark trees, guided more by a mysterious calling rather than rational thought. The deeper I reached within the forest, the more it seemed to warp around me. The trees seemed to bear grotesque faces, their branches growing in shapes similar to clawed hands and talons. Thinking of the time when I was frightened by these reminders of my former life made me smile. I was so foolish back then, I thought. So naïve, so secure in my ignorance of the workings of the world.

Walking around one of these peculiar trees, I reached a clearing. At the centre of that patch of grass, I found a little filly sitting and sobbing. She did not even have her cutie mark yet. Somehow, this little blonde-maned foal evoked in me a feeling I had not felt in a very long time. The feeling of empathy. I felt sorry for the frightened filly. No matter how she got here, she was now trapped by the evil trees looking at her from every direction. However long she had sat there, crying in fear, I would now show her a way outside.

She looked up at me when I extended a hoof towards her, urging her to stand up. Her pupils suddenly contracted when she saw me. She leaped away from me and immediately started running away, caring not for the trees, trying only to escape from me. I gave pursue to her.

The little drops of tears she left on the grass behind her sparkled in the moonlight. I followed this ghastly path for several minutes, the filly herself barely in sight. As we ran through the forest, I heard the insidious voice of Nightmare Moon speaking to me. “Now look what you've done,” She said. “She has never been more afraid in her life.” I paid no heed to her words.

In the end, the filly reached a river which flowed through the forest. Stopping at its bank, she could run from me no longer. I slowed my steps so as not to frighten her. “It's alright,” I tried to soothe her as I walked quietly towards her. “Where are your parents? I can take you home. Please, don't be afraid.” Yet the closer I got, the more restless the foal became. When I was only a few steps away, it could not bear it; it jumped headfirst into the river, and—unable to keep up with the rushing waves—she was quickly swallowed by the depths.

“No!” I screamed. I used my magic to lift great amount of water, throwing entire waves at out into the forest, but she was gone. “No.” I could not accept it. As I vainly thrashing my hooves at the water, the rage of the river slowly subsided. It flow slowed and its waved died down. Too late. It is all too late.

With my front hooves in the river and my eyes closed, I held my head just above the now-clear and peaceful river. I mourned for the lost filly, almost crying but not quite there as a sense of failure crept over me. As bloody as the battle for Canterlot was, losing this poor soul made me feel weaker than I had ever felt. Why did she run away? Why did she do that? The question overwhelmed me.

Then I opened my eyes. I screamed as I jumped away from the water. That could not have been me. Mustering my courage, I gazed into the river again, dreading to look at my reflection once again. But there it was: I could see my clowen hooves in the water through the translucent reflection of my deformed face. My eyes glowed a faint shade of red. My elongated and jagged horn was almost as frightening a sight as the fangs in my mouth. The strands of my torn and ripped mane dangling in front of my face did little to hide the monstrosity that I seemed to have become. I refused to accept this as the truth. There is no way. This is Nightmare Moon's trick. All of it. It has to be!

“Your visage becomes you.” Came the voice of Nightmare Moon from behind me. “It is the appropriate reflection of your soul.”

“What have you done to me, you demon?” I turned around.

“I have done nothing to you, little filly.”

In my fury, I launched a powerful magical missile towards her. She did not even try to step away; when it reached her, her form became one of dark mist and my spell passed straight through. When she regained her corporeal form, it was completely unharmed.

“This is you, Twilight Sparkle. This is all you.”

I fired a similar spell again—to identical results. And again, and again. I kept barraging her—until one time, instead of recreating her body out of the blackness, the terrible cloud flew up to me in the blink of an eye. Before I could react, I was kicked up into the air by one precise swing of her hoof aimed at my stomach. The landing was just as painful. Heaving and desperately gasping for air, I lay completely paralysed on the ground. She walked up to me, slowly and menacingly, before kicking me away again.

“Honestly, Twilight Sparkle, I must say I am disappointed in you. Are you really my prophesied killer?”

I stood up on shaking legs. “I'm sorry if I did not live up to your expectations.”

She laughed. “Expectations! Oh yes. That's the right word.” She took a quick glance around. “Looking at this landscape, I expected more. So much more. It hits quite close to home.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, of course.” She spoke in a condescending tone. “It must be hard for you, in a way. Not that it matters.”

Pushed well past my boiling point and in extreme pain, I roared with rage as I tore a tree from its place and flung it towards my enemy. Casting the spell caused a sharp, stabbing pain to run through my body from the tip of my horn to the end of my spine, yet I carried on. I tore parts of the ground itself from around me, barraging her with whatever I found close by—each one she avoided by turning into mist or simply shattering them before impact with her own magic.

“Very impressive.” She grinned. Do you want to see what I can do?

Dark clouds began blocking out the stars above us. A storm gathered with thunder and lightning. Nightmare Moon herself took on her mysterious mist form again—except this time, instead of returning to her normal form, the fog split apart into three parts, each becoming a separate image of the Night Princess: one earther, one pegasus and one unicorn. The unicorn picked me up with her magic effortlessly and pulled me close as they surrounded me.

“So useless.” The earther said.

“You've killed before. They were close to you. I can sense it.” The pegasus spoke.

“You thought yourself a queen when you are really a no-pony.” The unicorn spoke again as she threw me to the ground. “I can see who sent you know. A great white mother-figure. She's your mentor.”

“She told you to kill them.” The pegasus said.

“Yet even she is disgusted by you now.” The earther image remarked.

“She hates you. You've killed your friends and abandoned your parents for her, and even she hates you.” Her unicorn-self talked to me. “Whatever you do, you will never wash their blood off your hooves. How were you expecting to live with yourself?”

She lifted me again and passed me onto her earther-self. That one kicked me up into the air like some sort of ball. I was soon caught by her pegasus image, who brought me even higher into the sky. Then she let go, leaving me to fall towards the ground. It seems old habits die hard.

But I was caught, again, by a spell of her unicorn-self. “What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?” She laughed, as did the other two. “How does it feel to be a murderer of innocents? How does it feel to be hated so?” She asked as she dropped me to the ground.

I coughed as I tried to speak. “You tell me, dear Princess Luna.” I looked her unicorn image straight in the eye. “I think you know exactly how it feels. That's the reason you're doing this. You think you need to prove yourself to your subjects.” As I said those words, a bright beam of light shone through the black clouds in the sky. “By doing what? Killing a lone unicorn?”

“I will prove that I'm an able ruler!” Her voice shook and cracked. “With your death, my place on the throne is assured!”

“What will it prove, exactly? That you're willing to kill for power? How do you think your precious subjects will like that?”

“No!” She yelled. “They will—”

“Hate you even more so, Nightmare Moon.”

She let her teeth bare as she snarled in anger.

“You don't like that name, do you, Nightmare Moon? Well, get used to it. For a thousand years and more will you be addressed as such.” I smiled. “Trust me on this.”

“No!” She yelled again. “If they accepted my sister, they will accept me! She needs me!”

I knew not what the Princess was talking about, but it mattered precious little. “Oh, she needs you now? Do you want to know what I think? You are nothing but a pet. A token! She owns you.”

With those words spoken, brightly glowing Sun dispelled the clouds above us and drove out the Moon from the sky. As the little white dots that were the stars scattered away to beyond the horizon like nocturnal beasts running from a suddenly lit campfire's light, the mountains melted into the ground and the river swallowed the trees.

I was once again within the high tower-room of Princess Luna with the little wooden desk as a dawning Sun lit the room through the open balcony. The nightmare was over.

I found myself standing on the chest of the Princess who lay on her back underneath. My forehooves pressed adamantly down on her long, dark neck. I regained my mind just in time to see her breath give out and her eyes lose their glowing shine. Thus, the Princess of the Night lay dead at my hooves.

It felt ironic. The nightmare was of her own making, yet fed on my thoughts and memories. She tampered with my mind, and in the end, she tumbled on her own anxieties. The terrible dream turned on its mistress, thereby spelling her demise. Good riddance, I thought. She was clearly unfit to rule.

As the memories of our shared dream quickly faded from my mind—as is usually the case with dreams—I noticed the Oracle's ouroboros lying on the floor beside us. I had obviously lost it during my unconscious struggle with the Princess. I stepped off my victim—her size impressive even in death—and walked towards the golden trinket, lifting it up before my eyes with a spell. As the snake's eternal gaze met with mine, its eyes lit up with light-red light for a brief moment, as if it had blinked somehow, realising that I had fulfilled my purpose. The snake then came to life, releasing the bite of its own tail and instead resting its head next to its tip. The threads of history thus lay untangled, ready to be woven into a brighter future. Whatever game it was that Pinkamena had been playing, it no longer mattered. Her pawn has been removed from the game.

I placed the trinket once again around my neck with the string that bound it.

I closed my eyes, ready to put myself, again, into the hooves of fate.