Sister… we meet again so soon. We just keep running into each other.

“More than sisters,” the paper pony said in reply. “Friends. What changed?”

I died.

“Terra, I am sorry.”

Death changes a pony, you know.

“Believe me, sister, I know.” After a pause, she asked, “Can you at least tell me what you are doing here? When last we met, you were cryptic. You said very little.”

My chosen champions were dying from yet another one of your traps. Keeping them all alive is fiendishly difficult. At this point, I am pondering granting them immortality. Now I have to undo the brain damage that you have caused yet again. It drains me so.

“I am sorry,” the paper pony replied. “Pale has this place sealed off. Terra, why are you here? Why take this risk? Why subject these poor ponies to this grueling torture?”

To keep a promise.

“What promise?”

To return.

“That tells me nothing.”

For an annoying know-it-all, you seem to know very little.

“For a sister and a friend, you’re kind of a pain in the split, Terra. Pale and Chronos are conspiring against you. Pale is not one who graciously accepts defeat. You know how he is about his wagers. This goes beyond a mere contest of siblings. The lives of many are at stake. I want to help you. Terra, please, I need for us to be friends again.”

You sound more like your chosen champion than yourself.

“So what if I do? She is my replacement, and a worthy one at that. As for you, I don’t recall you being quite so brutal. You were the gentle lifegiver, but now you act as the merciless death-dealer. My counterpart and I are deeply concerned about you bringing out the very worst that your chosen champion has to offer.”

Life is pain, and he understands that better than most. He survives. I respect that. Life is survival. To live now, during this time, when the darkness gathers, requires a certain determined brutishness, something my champion has in abundance. He will survive, because life must survive.

“So you came to keep a promise.”

Sister, yes I did.

“And you won’t tell me?”

You would stop me if I did. Why not just look ahead in one of your precious books? Skip the chapters and reach the end?

The paper pony frowned, which caused her face to crinkle unpleasantly. “That wouldn’t make me a very good sister. Terra… mistakes were made. I know what I did. I did incomprehensible, unconscionable things. I wronged you, but for good reason—”

What you did brought about the circumstances of my death.

“Celestia and Luna, my daughters, they needed power over life. It was never my intent to kill you, or to bring about your end. I will confess, I did what I did out of desperation. You don’t understand what it is like, Terra… I foresaw a terrible end to all things, and I saw only one way to prevent that—”

What galls me is that you didn’t ask. You just took. Had you asked, I might have given of myself freely.

“No, Terra”—the paper pony shook her head—“for that, I did look ahead. I cheated, as obnoxious sisters do. You, Pale, Chronos, all of you refused. Too much risk for too little reassurance. So I bent the rules, changed the outcome, and I came upon you as a common sneakthief. For that, I truly am sorry.”

Your actions led to my demise.

“And my own. I didn’t spare myself. Yet, because of my actions, you and I are here, right now, and we’re able to argue about this.”

There is that.

“I sense much emotion for your champion—”

I have grown to love him as a son. At first, he was a means to an end, but existing within his headspace gave me new perspectives. A new attitude about life. To be with him, to share his struggles, to feel his pain, to experience all of his toil and labour as a mortal. He has been my teacher. It is because of him that I am here now, in this place, striving to keep my promise. When I made this promise, it was mere words. But having grown to love my champion, my vessel, I have been made to see the error of my ways. My plans have changed. But before I can enact these plans of mine, a promise must be kept.

“I want to atone for what I’ve done,” the paper pony said, her voice raspy and crinkly as two sheets of parchment rubbing together. “Let me help you keep that promise. Please, let me make things right between us.”

A mother does incomprehensible things for her young...

This made the paper pony pause. Her paper wings unfolded, her eyes blinked with the sound of rustling sheaves of paper. When her ears pivoted forward, there was a sound like autumn leaves in the wind, and when she nodded, the paper of her neck crinkled, a pleasant, audible sound.

“I am begging you, please, allow me to reconcile with you. Our chosen champions have changed us. Let us be better ponies. Please? I did so much wrong for the sake of my daughters. Give me a chance to make amends. Let me be your sister again. Please, please, let us be friends again. The ache I have in whatever passes as my heart is unbearable.”

Very well. I forgive you… sister.

Armed with shield and wrench, Tarnish aimed himself down the dark, foreboding hallway, all while ignoring the hollow pit where there had once been courage. While looking at statues was a pleasant diversion, it wasn’t getting them anywhere. After a few steps, the others fell into formation beside him. The Twilight statue was endlessly fascinating, perhaps too much so, and it was a relief to walk away from such a demanding distraction.

There were other statues every few yards, tucked away into recessed alcoves, and he did not stop to have a look at them. They were a devourer of time at best, and a potential threat to their survival at worst. Driven by purpose, he focused on the darkness ahead. One hoof in front of the other, all senses on high alert, Tarnish pushed into the unknown. That is, until he saw a faint light ahead. It flickered, in very much the same way a theatre projector flickered, and these flickers made the shadows dance.

After so long in the dark, never had the light felt so threatening.

Gritting his teeth, his neck muscles taut, his blood pressure such that the bite in his leg was now throbbing, Tarnish continued his cautious advance. What choice did he have? The lights had long ago gone out in this place, this tomb for shadows, so to see this light, to witness this illumination was unsettling, disturbing.

It spilled from an open door and left the hallway awash with distorted shadows. Piss-shivers danced up and down Tarnish’s spine, and beside him, Rainbow Dash—her hackles raised—crept along with remarkable silence. She broke away, maneuvering herself to a position near the door, hugging the wall beside it, ready to unleash devastating sneak attacks.

Rainbow Dash was a real bitch when it came to kidneys, and Tarnish loved her for it.

Raising his shield, Tarnish moved into the doorway proper, ready to breach and clear. How many times had he been the door pony? Just how many smugglers’ dens and wretched hives of scum and villainy had he busted in on? So many games of poker interrupted, left unfinished. This was almost feeling routine now. He, Tarnish, a pony of intimidating height, would play the role of mook-magnet and would go gangbusters through the doorway. If things went well, he would push in and keep going. But if things went poorly, he would retreat and Rainbow Dash would flank his attacker.

It was an action that involved a huge amount of trust.

Now, in the doorway proper, ready for violence, his shield raised, Tarnish had a look around. In the center of the room was a heap of mechanical debris. A pile of scrap. Whatever it might once have been, it was now busted beyond recognition, a pile of metal that was partially melted. Twilight Sparkle must have done this when she came through here, he thought to himself.

Stunned by what he saw, he lowered his shield and just stood there, slack-jawed.

Author's Notes:

There's a lot of things going on here.