Cold. Harsh, bitter, antagonizing cold. All of the cold in the world lay here, all around him – and yet it did nothing to ease the searing, sizzling agony rippling through his flesh. His mind stirred, moaning in pain as the winds whipped at his freshly minted coat. He felt heavy, shaking as his scorched hand dug into the snow. Snow? Snow. The moon didn’t have snow – but the Lunar Plane did. Well, at the very least he could say the banishment worked, and all of their theorycrafting finally bore fruit. Even if he was barely conscious for it. Actually, no, thankfully he was mostly knocked out - he hurt now, it must have hurt a lot more moments prior.

Before he even attempted to lift his broken, battered body – he first channeled his magic. Curiously, it felt... weak. Distant. But still, present - regardless of how much he wasted the other night. Magic was tied to the fabric of reality, after all; and being so far from the center, the Material Plane, meant his grasp on the latent energies around him was dampened. Magic 101: The magic you summon from within is amplified from the surrounding elements. When your ties to the elements are weakened, you must spend more of your own energy to compensate.

Shuddering, he forced light to well within him. Coaxing the golden aura to engulf his form; the best he could do for now was to accelerate his already fast natural healing in the form of the spell Resurgence. A neat trick he picked up naturally, but later had the chance to refine in Alma Sol. On dummies, of course – but it still counts.

Slowly, steadily – and painfully – he made it to his feet. Bruised muscles struggling against his brain, demanding rest. His bones were shaky, but supportive as he hefted the massive bag with him. He almost regretted not inquiring about the contents; in fact, he was sure Twilight included everything from her favorite books to the kitchen sink, but he had little time to argue about it now.

He had to move. With his head peeking up from the hood of his new, now snow covered jacket, he could finally take in the Lunar Plane in its entirety. Well, he would – but he was currently sitting under a pillar of blinding light, from where the spell dropped him off; a hole in the stars above detailing the astral plane, tearing at the fabric of reality in a perfect circle. The only reason he could see it at all, was that faintly beyond it lay an airy, etheral view of the gardens where he once stood, kinda. It slowly began to fade, the picture of nightshade flowers the last he could take in before vanishing. A small beacon held there, and stayed - reality would need a few hours to stitch itself back together fully, after all.

So. This is what it’s like, standing in Luna’s hooves. With his eyes still glued to the sky, he noticed the faint green and blue glow of Equis to his right. The breathtaking view of a planet, the entirety of a world – struck him to the core. He raised his thumb up, covering that sphere with a single digit. You would expect him to feel big, like a giant – but in this moment, he felt so immeasurably small. A single speck in an infinite void. A fragment of the whole picture, not even a drop of paint in the portrait of the great vastness and beyond. What was strange was, it hardly looked like a globe - more of a half sphere, shattered on the edges. Odd.

While he only had a week to work with, this isn’t a moment you can pay for in gold on Equis. Seeing his friends, the land he fought for – now a speck in the sky, filled him with a determination he didn’t know he had.

With an ear-ringing bang, the fabric above him cracked and shuddered with leaking magic, violent like a storm. The sound echoing off the distant snow and thundering over the valleys, worrying him. Nightmare Moon could be about after all – and that was a clear sign he needed to move. Or another worrying thought – she could be on Equis, right now, and he wouldn’t even know it.

Arin gave his wings a once over, sighing in relief. No damage besides a bit of char. A flap followed, happy to find only a couple loose pinions tumbling to the white blanket beneath him. Now, for the legs – everything should hopefully still work.

Arin took several sparse steps, feeling the crunch of snow beneath him. That’s one small step for this Seraph, but one giant leap for this mission’s success. Being able to walk, and hopefully fly, meant he could get to the hard part. Finding a half dead mare in this giant, freezing wasteland.

Shuffling his wings out of the way of his hiking bag, he darted up into the air with a flurry of wind and snow. He grunted as his pack made it difficult, but he needed height. The world around him was covered in not only snow, but a dark blue light. An ambient magic that flitted through the air, shining the polished drafts of cold ice in a simple, freezing radiance. Rocky outcroppings would break the hills in short peaks, and a bitter wind ripped through his thick coat not more than a hundred hooves from the fluffy powder below.

Withdrawing Twilight’s map, he beat his wings to steady himself. Gauging his location would be a bit of a challenge, but there were plenty of rough notes to flick through. She was even smart enough to leave notes pointing towards pages of Luna’s old diary, for clarification. The diary which he... well, he hasn’t flicked through the pages much, ironically enough. He couldn’t help but poke at Pumpkin’s, but he just didn’t have the urge with the lunar Princess. Maybe because this blue journal in particular was more so a summary of a thousand years bored in the Lunar plane, and he didn’t feel inclined to read it.

It seemed that the color of light was roughly related to one’s distance from the epicenter – the Homeward Crest. Arin was currently hovering over the Ripple – at least, it looked something like a ripple in the snow. With waves of jagged gray stone breaking through the pearly white. A good indication that he was close to the Abyss, a chilling thought for sure.

From Twilight’s notes, it appeared that the Lunar Plane wasn’t fully habitable – if you could even call this freezing wasteland devoid of life habitable. Once you travel too deep into the lengthening shadows, you enter the Lunar Abyss – or the ‘dark side’ of the moon. Even Luna was terrified of it, with clear warnings to avoid the dark at all costs, or risk your sanity, or worst yet - your body, as dark tendrils would lash out at you to try and drag you deeper still.

Just thinking about it gave him a sense of dread. Folding the map into his shoulder strap, he gradually tilted his encumbered body forward, aiming to glide as far as possible before touching down. His salt and pepper colored jacket would blend him in well with the snow and rock, and hopefully keep a very unwanted pair of eyes off of him as he searched.

The soft snow beneath stirred as he touched down, what must have been a league away. He felt exerted – magically and physically, as he noted the arcane fatigue still ever present. He’d have to tread on foot for a while; the wind had become unmanageable above, as the weather strangely shifted. Snow had whipped across his sight in the sky, a bad omen for a storm to come. And worrying enough, there were no clouds. He could see the stars, but snow just... appeared here, seemingly from nothing.

He took the towering pack off of his back – surely, a mare like Twilight would pack something like snow shoes for his mission. If not an entire survival catalog worth of gear.

“Aha!” Arin cheered, withdrawing two... broad, hoof shaped winter cleats. Oh, it was a set – there were two more. This must have been for Celestia, wherever she was holed up. Stuffing them back into the bulging pack, he found something a little more fitting – his own set of boots! These will do. Now, for the horrible task of bouncing around on one leg, trying not to get snow on one’s dry socks.

And after a few failed attempts, he now had a pair of cold, wet, icy feet tucked away in the broad lipped shoes. Wonderful. At least he found an extremely fashionable scarf and set of mittens in his jacket pockets – Rarity thought of everything. And so did Twilight. Which is why she’s going to pay for his visit to the chiropractor when he crashes back on Equis.

An unsettling thought struck him, as the snow gave way under his step. He would return, right? If he failed – would they leave him here to die? He wasn’t built like Luna, with the ability to sustain off of the ambient magic. Sure, he had plenty of rations – but how long would those last? Would the cold claim him first?

Breathing in through the soft fabric of the scarf, he calmed his nerves. He was here to rescue, not be rescued. It’s not like he’d be here for a thousand years... unlike his Princess, his charge back at home.

The Seraph sighed, dipping his head to his chest. He definitely had relationship issues. Maybe saving Celestia will knock the spooky out of Luna. Or, it will force Nightmare Moon’s hoof – if she hadn’t already set her plan into action. Then after everything was said and done, he’d have a long needed talk with Luna properly. That’s what he wanted. A talk.

His journey continued for hours. More than hours, in fact – his legs felt stiff and ragged, and he seemingly made only an inch of progress. The deep, dark blue had lightened maybe... a few shades, if it lightened at all. But now, snow had begun to plummet over him like an avalanche – the blizzard kicking into full.

It made him question how the enchantment of Nocturne worked, as the blade naturally had the ability to freeze flesh solid. He thumbed the sword against his waist, feeling the power hum intensely within. Maybe it channeled the Lunar Plane, and it was cursed much like the Alicorn Amulet. It made sense. But, that’s a question for his charge, when she’s more agreeable and less likely to schedule executions.

For now, he craved rest. He’s been walking for several hours, and he needed to drop this bag or his back will snap in twain. What the hell did Twilight pack in here?! He should have checked hours ago, but at this point, it hardly mattered.

Finding a wind breaker in the form of an icy wall, he chucked the heavy pack to the snow with a thump. Stooping to tug at the tent, he paused. He had disturbed the snow, and it uncovered a worrying stain beneath the thick top layer above.

Gently, he scooped the grimy frost up with his mitten, and touched it to his tongue. Blood. It was blood. Frozen, congealed blood. The pain in his legs vanished as adrenaline kicked in.

“Celestia!” he called, looking around for signs of life. Light. Fire. Anything. He’d even take a stupid swish of her tail at this point. If he could find her, all of his stress would vanish instantly. “Princess Celestia! PRINCESS!”

The storm billowed around him, cutting his words to ribbons. Even with the break of the wall, the snow still had chances to whip in and harass him. With the bag temporarily forgotten, he weighed his options.

If this was Celestia’s blood, she’s injured, dying, or dead. But there’s no body, and there’s no way to tell how fresh it is – it’s frozen over. The only indication would be the amount of snow weighing in, which gave him a rough estimate of several hours.

If Celestia is injured, she’s undoubtedly looking for shelter. But the question is – how injured is she? If it’s just a gash, she could have traveled miles in either direction. No – that’s wrong. She’s an alicorn. She can fly. If it was just a scrape or cut, it wouldn’t hinder her preferred method of travel. So if she’s grounded, the severity of the injury is potent enough to prevent her from using her wings. Or, she’s too tired to use them. Another option could be that they’re simply wasted away, and she can’t sustain flight.

Now, how did she obtain this injury? It wasn’t likely from exploration. Firstly, she wouldn’t need to explore – she would have found a spot to hunker down by now, and wait it out. If she’s moving with an injury, she is, or was, in danger.

He was lucky just by finding this piece of evidence – and now, he needed to take another gamble. If he went the wrong way, he risked losing potentially hours of time. Which could make an already dire situation much worse.

Arin couldn’t take any chances. He used to hunt for his meals, even in the dead of winter. He’d have to track her down, and the best way to do so would be scavenging for clues. If she’s injured enough to be grounded, then she could have stumbled into the ice wall at some point, smearing blood in the process. But, that could also never happen – the wound could be on her chest, or her leg. Or simply on the other side of her body all together.

He began to scoop at the snow, worrying amounts of blood turning up with each pass of his hands. This... it was definitely an abdominal or torso injury, for this much of the crimson fluid to pool like this. It seemed to be closer to the wall than anything – and there! A smear. A sign. Something.

Celestia was injured at some point, and she headed to his left. She could have been exhausted, or woozy from blood loss – and this led to her colliding with the wall, leaving a small splatter and a thick trail where she recovered.

He roughly gauged the height of the wound, grimacing. He recalled that Celestia’s chest was roundabouts a bit lower than his own, so this was definitely a piercing on her right side. The overall shape of the wall contact meant that she had a coin-sized hole in the right side of her chest. That... it was close to her heart. An icicle perhaps? Or something more sinister, like a horn?

Snatching his bag and dropping into a dead sprint, Arin beat his wings to stay above the powdery snow below. The Seraph's heart hammered with anxiety, as a cold sweat overtook him.

“I swear on my Feathers, Celestia, if you die on me, I’m going to... I’m going... I’ll...”

He couldn’t even finish his words. The wall grew tall, tilting over him – shedding the ambient light as snow diverted over the forming nook. Like a frozen wave, it slowly turned in on itself, tightening in the form of a tunnel. Here, the blood was resting freely on top of the icy floor, frozen much like the rest. And that’s when he saw it.

The once great and mighty Alicorn lay limp on the ice, her gaunt figure near skeleton-like from starvation. Her once beautiful wings had lost all but the most important feathers, her mane a still, soft pink. He nearly slid into the husk of the once regal ruler, falling to his knees against her.

“CELESTIA! Please, stay with me!” he yelped, unable to stop the tears from welling in his eyes. He immediately checked for signs of life – and finding barely a breath from her, the Seraph cried.

“N-No, Celestia, don’t you dare...” Arin whimpered, and fatigue be damned – he summoned every single ounce of magical power coursing through his ember. He dumped it into the broken pony, hand clamping over the massive, golf ball sized wound in her chest – right under her wing, too. The chiming bells of restoration surged through her form, patching the heaving Princess’s wound. It was an inch short of piercing her heart, a near fatal miss - but nearly intentional to make her suffer like this.

“I won’t let you, you can’t die – no, Celestia, please, I can’t lose you!” Pathetic sobs were all he could muster at this point – hands smeared in her congealed, chilly blood. She was so cold, but she wasn’t shaking. She wasn’t waking. Her body had all but given up, and with the wound closed – it bought him maybe minutes.

Warmth. She needed to be warm. Her fur was thin and patchy, and ice had formed around her eyes. She had been crying. Arin ripped his pack open – tugging an equally fluffy coat free of the bag, as he lifted her thin body into the downy softness. Her hooves slid in much too easily, as her body gave no resistance at all, save for a frozen stiffness he feared

“Y-You won't die, you can’t... that... you’ll be okay, you’re going to make it.” He whispered, yanking the tent from his pack. Instructions ignored, he threw the camping gear together as quickly as he could. It wasn’t brain surgery, but his shaky, adrenaline fueled hands fought him at every step. Numb fingers wasted precious seconds, but it was finally set up – and he seized the Princess bundle in his arms.

Long ago, during his rushed Knight tests – Shining Armor said Princess Celestia weighed seventy heaps. She was elegant and looked lean at that time (though she was deemed ever so slightly overweight), with all the right curves – Arin quickly cut that thought out of his head – but she was still healthy. Now? He didn’t understand pony weights too much – but this... she must have been a third of her weight. Twenty five heaps, at best. How she was still alive was... he didn’t want to think about it.

With her in the tent and resting on a massive sleeping bag, he didn’t waste another minute. Arin dumped the contents of the hiking backpack across the icy floor, ignoring everything except for one thing – a portable, oil stove. Such a common tool in Milla Serine for the poor like him, and now, a lifeline in the Princess’s darkest moments.

Setting it up didn’t take more than seconds, and with strained, drained magic – he sparked a flame into the oil lamp. Hanging it from a hook on the square tent’s roof, he darted back for the scattered supplies. Sliding across the icy cavern, he grunted when he lost his balance – landing on his back with a gasp.

Pain later. Aid now. Arin scrambled onto his knees, wheezing as he scooped up everything back into the bag. Rations, water, a lightweight sleigh contraption, extra oil, more blankets and covers – how did Twilight fit so much in the...

Oh. Right. Princess of Magic. There was even a bottle of ketchup, Twilight’s favorite brand; and while thoughtful - it didn’t help him now.

Back inside of the tent, everything but the kitchen sink collected, he zipped them in, wheeling around to check on the dying mare.

He checked her pulse. Faint, slow... But what was more worrying was her heat. She was still a princess popsicle, and still no shivering. No movement, besides the very rare rise and fall of her chest.

Body warmth it is, then. He ripped off his heavy jacket – slipping under the piles of blankets on top of her, as he undid the chest buttons on her loose coat. When he first arrived in Equis, he sometimes had idle, innocent thoughts about cuddling the giant Princess – her wings looked absolutely lovely, and it was a guilty pleasure that a lot of Inert had. Wanting to cuddle in wings was apparently a common fling among the lower class like him.

But now, it was a matter of life and death. Naked save all but his undergarments, both arms quickly darted around the unconscious Alicorn. He honestly felt like he was hugging a rough, somewhat furry and ragged bag of bones, but it was better than waking up next to a corpse. He rested there for a while, shaking a little himself from the adrenaline and fear – before it came from her chilly skin.

It took nearly an hour, before he felt even somewhat comfortable against her. That’s under a warm oil lamp, inside of her furry coat, and covered in several blankets – and she was still cold. Now it was more like a mild chill, at best. Like she just hopped out of a cold shower and into a fridge to dry off with a frozen towel. But still, a massive improvement.

Slowly, he pulled an arm free – moving his hand to the bag. Twilight mentioned refeeding syndrome what it felt like months ago, and his classes in Alma Sol actually came in handy for that. When a Seraph – or in this case, a pony, starves for so long, a normal meal would kill them. So you’ve got to start off small, and slow.

Thankfully, a giant thermos was the best find out of the assorted tools and goods. In fact, there were three! And it came packed with a fresh chicken stock – fats and oils were essential right now, and he wanted to avoid giving her anything with excessive sugar. Several cookies could probably put her into shock. Luckily, ponies had a stomach for less than vegetarian options at times, and protein and fat were crucial for survival.

Arin bundled up an extra couple of pillows, thankful for Twilight’s attention to creature comforts – and propped up the still mare’s head. She didn’t resist as he brought the thermos lid to her unconscious muzzle, and fed her the first ladle of broth. The taste was enough to force her to swallow, even when dead asleep.

Just seeing her throat move lifted a world of weight off of the poor Knight’s shoulders. A reflex other than breathing was a good sign, but he needed her to start shivering. The piping hot broth soon began to disappear down her throat – and once the thermos was empty, he got what he wanted.

A shivering, shaking, twitching mare. He tossed the empty container to his side, pulling her back into his arms with tender affection. “Shh... it’s okay, Celestia. I’m here. I’m here. It’s okay now. You’re safe,” he whispered, curling up with her in the blankets.

As the minutes passed, he felt the heat trickle back into her. His wings, so small compared to hers – even darted around her fully, keeping her safe, and keeping her close. Among the shivering and shaking, and on the edge of sleep – he finally heard it.

“A-Arin?” came a hoarse, but oh so familiar voice.

“Celestia!” he shouted, nearly jumping out of the sheets from the vibrating mare’s voice. The Princess sobbed, her thin wings darting weakly around him in the covers. He hugged on tightly, burying his face into her chest – cleaning his fresh tears in her fur.

“P-Please, p-please b-be r-r-real,” she said, teeth chattering. “I-I... n-no more, I-I s-s-submit, p-please...”

“Celestia, shh. It’s alright. Yes, I’m real. I’m here. You’re alive! I found you! It’s going to be okay now – I can bring us home. Twilight, Umbra, and Tempest figured it out. You’re going to make it.” His hand reached up for her cheek, her faint magenta eyes cracking open to take him in.

“Y-You’re r-real?” she eventually chattered. “T-This... i-it’s a-another d-dream.”

“Celestia. Look me in the eyes. It’s real. I’m real. I’m here, right now.”

“Y-You c-can’t b-be A-Arin. A-Arin i-is... A-Arin d-died. T-This i-is a-a n-nightmare! P-Please, l-let m-m-me g-go, I-I...”

Arin gulped. That’s right. Celestia... she missed everything.

“Celestia. We won the war in Canterlot. Leotoln didn’t kill me – I almost died, yes, but I survived. I ascended... I’m an Ascended now. And I beat Leotoln through Harmony, with Twilight’s help of course.” Arin’s hands ran up and down her scraggy fur, frowning. “See? I’m real. I healed the wound in your chest and everything. Oh! I’m a White Mage! I’m a healer! Not only that – but I settled the rule of the Far Reaches! It stole three years of my life, but... it’s over. We won. It took some brainstorming from Umbra and Tempest Shadow, with Twlight’s help, to figure out how to undo your banishment, but I can finally bring you home.”

His hand ran up to her cold cheek, heart aching at the sight. Why wouldn’t she open her eyes fully? The ice melted around her tear ducts long ago. He shuffled up in the sheets, locking his gaze to her own.

“Luna has been acting strange for well over a year, Celestia. And I have to know... is Nightmare Moon here?” He felt like he already knew the answer. But he had to confirm.

Celestia didn’t respond, shaking from her hooves to her horn. But eventually, she managed a weak nod.

A familiar pit of dread filled his stomach, stroking her cheek slowly. Comfortingly. Digesting that information with fear in his golden eyes. “Celestia. I... I take it you’ve been through a lot. Not just... idly wandering around, kicking snowy rocks and sheltering from the blizzards. When you can speak, please. Tell me. Tell me everything.”

A slow, shivering nod followed. Her head gently slid into Arin’s bare chest, taking his turn to be her tissue as tears welled in her eyes. He simply held her there, stroking down her withers with slow, idle contemplation.

She sobbed for what felt like hours, until the shivering stopped and the sparse tears dried. The broken mare slowly drawing her face up to meet the Seraph’s. Her voice had calmed, the sandpaper in her throat crackly as she spoke.

“Every time I sleep. I’m cast into the nightmare once again. I... every dream, it’s a thousand years. A thousand years alone, freezing in the bitter cold. Staring up at Equis. Pain... I feel a thousand years of pain, over and over again. I-I have spent decades in this Tartarus. Eons. E-Eternity. A-As my punishment for besting Nightmare Moon. I have seen... horrible things. I see Luna, cut in twain. I see you, impaled on Leotoln’s spear. Twilight, h-her friends... enslaved, beaten, tortured. I have seen it all. I have felt iron nails driving into my b-bones. S-She i-imprisoned me f-for a while, b-breaking my body, before t-tossing me into the winter to d-die. E-Every time I wake up to the bitter cold, the hunger in my stomach... a-alone, it has been my only boon. But then she found me. S-She found me, and hounded me f-from the warmest places. I sleep in the cold, the ice. And e-even there, in my dreams...”

She began to sob again, the absolutely terrified Seraph clinging to her as her moral support. “B-By my Feathers...”

Is this... is this what they were dealing with? A torturous monster with a burning desire for revenge?

She eventually recovered enough to speak. “S-Something happened, and she was done with me. H-Her horn found m-my chest, and I was l-left to die. I-I ran, t-to hide from the storm. A-And then you found me. You found m-me, a-and you... you saved me, I-I...”

Her eyes opened, a faint sparkle of hope returning. “I... Arin, I...”

“It’s okay, Celestia. Rest. We have time now. I seriously thought I would spend days scouring the snow looking for you, and...” He sighed, giving her another reassuring squeeze. “I have food and oil to keep us alive for a dozen more days, so just stay with me... alright? We’ll sleep here before moving towards the Homeward Crest.”

“A-Arin, don’t rest. S-Stay awake. T-That’s how she f-finds you.”

That... was an unsettling thought. Nodding, he ran his fingers through her mane, kissing her forehead gently – right beneath the horn. Caring for her like he would a child. “I won’t. I promise.”

She breathed a deep sigh of relief, a fragile muzzle finding its way against his chest. “Please... b-be real...”

From that point on, she was near inconsolable. Choking tears were broken only by the faint sobs of pain, her body clinging to the thin string of life. Though the warmth and comfort of the sheets and fur were beckoning him to sleep, he fought the urge and instead clutched her close.

These minutes turned to hours, the occasional ‘thank you’ and weak hug breaking her whimpers. Who knew it would be this bad? That the Lunar Plane could be so harsh, coupled with a nightmare prowling in your dreams? But the better question is... what could Nightmare Moon’s plan be?