Chrysalis stared at the map drawn on the ceiling. Her lack of focus caused lines in the paint to blur. Fictional borders melted away, swirling the image into a colorful and nondescript blob. In her boredom, she hummed an eerie lullaby. As surreal as the melody sounded, she couldn’t remember where she heard it.
A flash of purple light startled her, snapping the world back into focus. Twilight stood in the center of the room; a leather-bound tome snuggled against her chest.
“Twilight?” Chrysalis rolled onto her stomach, allowing her wings to lift her off the floor.
“Did you miss me?” Twilight smiled impishly.
“What are you doing here? If Luna hears about this, she’ll—”
“If Luna hears about what? I just decided to take a break and do some light reading. I’m being a perfect little princess.” The alicorn’s eye twinkled. She treated her deceit like a badge of honor.
Chrysalis felt a slight tingle of excitement at the sudden boldness.
“The illustrious Princess Twilight Sparkle, sneaking around behind everyone’s back. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I’ve been rubbing off on you.”
“Maybe a little,” Twilight admitted.
Stretching her wings, Chrysalis cantered over to the edge of her bed, sinking down into the sheets in a regal pose. During their afternoon tea, Twilight had seen Celestia lay in an almost identical manner.
“So, what brings you to my humble home today, Princess?”
Twilight reddened. In the short span of time since they separated, Chrysalis’ overwhelming presence had taken on an intoxicating allure.
“I came to visit you.”
“Is that so? Has something happened?”
“No. I just thought you could use some company.”
Twilight stepped up to the edge of the bed. Chrysalis shifted to the side and patted the open space. Hesitantly, as if stepping up to a steep ledge, Twilight climbed up, ensuring she left a healthy distance between them.
“What’s that?” Chrysalis pointed at the book in Twilight’s clutches.
“A gift from my parents. A photo album.”
“Oh? Any embarrassing snapshots in it for me to make fun of?” Chrysalis inched closer for a better look.
“Here.” Twilight set out the book between them, opening it to one of the later pages. A collection of photos showed off her and her brother as foals, playing in the yard. They appeared to be running laps around their mother’s vegetable garden.
“That’s you?” Chrysalis chuckled, leaning closer to drink in the view of the younger Twilight. She turned her head to different angles, trying to compare the photo with the reality sitting in front of her. The past version’s fur was brighter and sported a solid purple mane as compared to Twilight’s pink stripe.
“If you think I’m different, take a look at Shining.”
Chrysalis turned her attention to the second foal.
“I don’t see much of a difference.”
“What? How? He’s as small as I was back then. And look at that mane. He always liked it longer before he joined the army.”
“Twilight, I try not to think about your brother.”
“Why?”
“It brings back . . . interesting memories. Of our previous encounters. While I was Cadence.” Chrysalis cleared her throat, suddenly enthralled by something on the far wall.
“Do I even want to know?”
“Your brother likes to flirt. And he’s not particularly good at it.”
“You flirted with my brother?” Twilight snickered.
“As I said, I’d rather not discuss it.”
Chrysalis selected a random page from the earlier section. It depicted a cute gray mare standing in an apple orchard. She had bags around her eyes and an unkept mane. Most likely, both were symptoms of her swollen belly.
“That’s my mom, Twilight Velvet,” Twilight explained. “I don’t see Shining in the picture, so I’d guess that’s him in there.”
Despite the haggard appearance of Velvet, Chrysalis only saw the smile that graced her thin cheeks.
“She looks happy.”
“When we were growing up, she always told us it was her dream to be a mother. She called us her ‘Ultimate Adventure’ or something like that.”
“She did a fine job of it to boot.” Chrysalis tapped Twilight’s nose.
“Aww. I’m sure she’d love hearing you say that,” Twilight said, crinkling her muzzle.
“I think she would be more likely to beat me. I did traumatize her family.”
Twilight turned back to the book. Her mother’s words floated through the vacant space in Twilight’s thoughts. Briefly, she considered telling Chrysalis about their talk. She could confess everything right now, though the idea left her more worried than anything else. Before she could decide, Chrysalis interrupted.
“You said your mother always wanted foals. Do you?”
“Do I what?” Twilight blinked rapidly.
“Do you want children?”
Twilight made decent progress into her answer before she realized she didn’t have one. Instead, she shrugged.
“I’ve never given it much thought. I don’t think I’d have much time to care for a foal with all these princess responsibilities. She’d probably be cute as a button, though.”
“She?”
“Yeah. I think I’d like a girl. You know, a little Twilight walking around. For now, though, I think I’ll just take care of Flurry Heart. Besides, I’ve heard that the whole ordeal is pretty painful.” Simply imagining the pain made her squirm.
“Most modern healing spells will stop the pain, too,” Chrysalis explained.
“I mean, I guess. Still though . . . “ Twilight narrowed her eyes, turning to the changeling. “Why do you know that, Chrysalis?”
“I am a mother, Twilight.”
“Well, yeah. But I think it’s a little different for changelings.”
“Changelings do hatch from eggs, yes. However, you seem to be forgetting that changelings aren’t always changelings. Our changes are completely physical, Twilight. Completely.”
“Chrysalis?” Twilight started, her train of thought completely derailed. “Are you telling me you’ve had a foal?”
“Not a foal, per se.” The pitch of her voice climbed an octave.
“I didn’t know changelings could do that. I’ll have to look into this. It could open so many new doors for both ponies and changelings,” Twilight mused, expertly diving into her logical half as her emotional side went nuclear.
“Why don’t we drop this subject and keep looking at the book?” Twilight begged, not bothering to wait for permission.
“Twilight?” Chrysalis leaned in close, a devilish grin on her lips.
“Yeah . . .” Twilight chirped.
“If you’re curious about changelings, you know you can ask me anything, right?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I’d always be interested to help you experiment.”
“Why did you say it like that?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Chrysalis’ fangs glittered as she smiled.
Twilight turned away. She could feel her skin, scorching hot beneath her fur.
“I think I need to be going,” Twilight coughed, sliding off the bed.
“Wait,” Chrysalis cried. “It was a joke, Twilight. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“It was just a joke?” Twilight asked.
“Yes? No?” Chrysalis’ cheeks flushed bright blue. “Do you want it to be?”
Twilight had never seen the changeling queen so flustered. It was adorable, in a childish sort of way. Like a juvenile mare facing down her first crush. That settled it. She needed to tell Chrysalis everything.
And then the clock chimed, startling Twilight.
“I need to go. Luna will be coming for me any minute,” Twilight apologized. Without waiting to see Chrysalis’ reaction, Twilight disappeared in a flash of purple light.
Twilight collapsed to the dark floor of her room, trapped in a paradoxical vortex of relief and anxiety. After only a moment to recover, a knock at the door signaled Luna’s arrival.
“Twilight?” Luna called.
“Be there in a minute,” Twilight responded. She pulled a book from the shelf. A basic manual of magic, given the cover. It would suffice. Bracing herself, she pulled open her chamber door, revealing the lunar princess.
“Twilight. Are you ready?” She sounded giddy.
“Almost, I just need to head up to my study. I’ll need to record any changes, but that should only take a few seconds. Go ahead to Celestia, I’ll meet you there when I’m ready.”
“Sounds like a plan. I have faith in you, Twilight.” Along with her improved mood, Luna’s elegant stride had returned.
“Princess Luna. If I could make a request?”
“And what would that be?”
“I want Chrysalis to be there. She helped make the cure, and I think she should be there when we use it.”
Luna twitched, but her demeanor didn’t change.
“I suppose there is no harm in allowing it. She will be escorted to Celestia’s chambers, where I will keep watch personally until you arrive.”
And then she was gone. Twilight released her captive breath. Asking for the moon might have been easier. Without any other options, she marched up to her study to the rhythm of an unheard funeral dirge.
In the room she once considered more personal than her bedroom, Twilight found her cure sitting on the cluttered table. She cleared a spot, pushing everything back toward the opposite edge, save for a pristine scroll. Gathering her inkpot and quill from a nearby drawer, Twilight prepared to write.
From a visual standpoint, the brew was still the same bubbling pink broth that it had been before. She marked the lack of physical change in her notes. Next, she plucked a petal from the vase in the corner. She dribbled a drop of the potion onto it, watching closely for any reaction. Nothing. She couldn’t decide if that should be a helpful or harmful omen.
Sucking a breath through her teeth, she plucked a feather from her bad wing, causing a mild whimper. Much like the petal before, no reactions were apparent. She swept both test subjects into a dustbin.
Finally, she examined the plain crystal. Chrysalis had turned it into a teacup, and the brew had turned it back. Given that it remained a crystal, it seemed to have completely nullified the changeling magic. Even better than that, she couldn’t find any damage on the gem to suggest her solution might be dangerous.
She jotted down each result in her notes and rolled the scroll back up before stacking it up alongside several of its brethren. With the final addition of a cork stopper to keep the potion from leaking, Twilight made her way to Celestia’s bed chamber.
Standing outside the door, Twilight could feel the tension waiting for her on the other side. The complement of guards held the passage open only while Twilight crossed, sealing the exit behind her immediately.
Luna waited at Celestia’s bedside, nuzzling her sister’s cold hoof lovingly. She hadn’t noticed Twilight’s arrival. Chrysalis kept to the shadows, guard up and gaze locked firmly on Luna. Despite being wreathed in the dark, Twilight could see her trembling.
“I’m here, Luna,” Twilight announced.
The lunar princess rose, lowering her sister’s leg gently to the bed. She assumed her regal posture as she approached Twilight.
“You may leave now.” At Luna’s command, the medical team dispersed, fleeing like trained hounds at their master’s orders.
“I don’t suppose you’ll let me go too, would you?” Chrysalis asked, her playful veneer damaged by the fear in her voice.
“I’m not the one who insisted you be here. You should ask Twilight if you wish to leave.”
Chrysalis’ gaze flickered to Twilight, who offered the kindest smile she could offer in such a grim atmosphere. The changeling’s terror didn’t abate, but she withdrew her request to leave before slinking back into the shadows.
“Here.” Twilight relinquished the potion to Luna, but she denied it.
“It is your craft, Twilight. You should be the one to administer it.”
Gathering her resolve, Twilight nodded, taking the flask with her as she drew closer to Celestia.
By now, the solar alicorn’s breathing could be heard from throughout the room, wheezing and rasping as she tried to keep her lungs fed. The tissue around her wound had turned necrotic. A slurry of some thick substance bled from the burns. Spiked veins had covered her completely, ruining her stunning white coat.
Twilight battled a wave of sickness that curled over her. Perhaps the Captain’s war comparison had more merit than she thought. She forced her legs to carry her forward, leaning over Celestia’s body and removing the stopper from the bottle.
The pink liquid drizzled from the mouth of the glass, gathering in small pools wherever it could. Unsure of the proper dosage, Twilight started with meager applications before withdrawing the bottle.
Luna appeared over her shoulder, holding her steady with a wing as they watched the medicine work. Seconds ticked past. Then minutes. Twilight felt a piece of herself die with each click of the clock’s gears. Though stoic as ever, Luna’s agony must have eclipsed anything Twilight could fathom.
When enough time had passed without any overt changes, Twilight provided a second, larger dose. When that failed, she emptied the remainder of the bottle. Soft pink liquid saturated Celestia’s fur, seeping into the sheets and spilling onto the floor.
“Are we supposed to leave it overnight?” Luna asked, anxiety poisoning her sweet tone.
“When we tested it, it took a bit of time.”
“Define ‘a bit’.”
“A minute, maybe?”
Sixty ticks of the swinging pendulum passed over what felt like days.
Then sixty more.
Then sixty more.
“I don’t get it,” Twilight’s voice was cold. Her legs and wings felt numb.
“Did . . . did it work?” Luna wondered, dreading the impending answer.
“No.” Twilight staggered back, dropping the glass and letting it shatter against the stone floor. Luna stood, still as the gargoyles adorning the castle towers.
Twilight pressed her back to the wall, sliding down onto the floor and burying her head in her hooves.
“It worked fine earlier. What’s changed? What’s wrong with it? Why didn’t it work?” From her crumpled form collapsed on the floor, Twilight muttered these questions in an endless loop.
“What happened, Twilight?”
Luna’s voice dredged the princess from her panic with a shock of icy horror.
“I don’t know. It should have worked. It worked last time.”
“So, why did it not work this time?” Luna refused to look at her.
If she could cower any farther back, Twilight would have. “I don’t know, Princess. All of my tests indicated that this would work.”
“So why did it fail?” Luna’s calm aura vanished. The shadows at the edges of the room began to pulse, creeping inward in short inky tendrils.
“I don’t know. Honestly.”
A soft touch caused Twilight to jump. Chrysalis stood over her, concern chiseled on her face. She pulled Twilight away from the wall, setting her in the moonlight flooding in through the windows.
It took only a cursory glance around the room to understand why. The shadows were bleeding ink. Dark serpents uncoiled from the abyss, smothering the light as they stretched out from their dens.
“Luna?” Twilight yelped.
“This is all your fault, Creature.”
Luna wasn’t Luna. Where she had been standing, a new mare stood, identical to Luna, but wrapped in an aura of blinding hatred and grim intentions.
“Luna, you need to calm down,” Twilight whined through streaming tears.
“I trusted you. I brought you into my home. I spared you from death. And this is the payment for my kindness?”
“She’s not listening, Twilight,” Chrysalis figured.
“You sabotaged the cure, didn’t you? Your lust for vengeance will not be sated until my sister is dead, will it?”
“Luna, please?” Twilight begged.
“You were a mistake, Beast. An oversight of nature that should never have been allowed to draw breath. Allow me to correct it.” A swirling void opened around Luna’s horn. Or the horn of whatever stood opposed to them.
“Luna, it isn’t Chrysalis’ fault.”
“Silence, Twilight. Do not think me ignorant of your own part in this. Ever since she’s arrived, you have allowed her to poison your mind.”
“She hasn’t, I swear,” Twilight pleaded.
Black tendrils creeped from the shadows. Twilight raised her shield, trapping her and Chrysalis in a vibrant bubble of magic.
“You seek my throne? Is that it? You would let Celestia die to advance your own position. You would seek this Creature’s aid in tearing me from my birthright.”
“I’m not trying to usurp you.”
An unbelievable force pressed inward from all sides. Shifting shapes floated through the dark, their jagged fingers scratching at the energy dome.
“I will not stand idly by while you try to take what is mine. I will not be the princess to let Equestria fall,” the thing declared.
A powerful slam chipped away at Twilight’s magic, widening into a crack. Oily ooze snaked through the fissures.
“Twilight?”
Twilight turned toward Chrysalis. One of the tendrils had lashed itself around her leg. Rather than try to drag her away, the tendril pulled down, sinking into the floor and pulling the changeling queen with it.
“Hold on,” Twilight ordered, reaching out to take her hoof.
“Twilight?” Chrysalis shouted louder this time. The lower half of her body melted into the stone as more tendrils wormed into their safe space.
“Chrysalis?”
Time slowed to a stop. The two of them locked eyes. Twilight watched tears stream down the changeling’s cheeks. Every fiber of her being cried out for Twilight to save her. As her forelegs sank out of sight, Twilight released her grip, restrained by the stone.
“Twilight?” Chrysalis’ voice radiated a sorrowful dread.
Twilight wiped a tear from her chin, forcing her body to calm.
“I love you, Chrysalis.”
And then she was gone. Taken by the dark.
Twilight dropped to her knees, her body screaming for a moment’s respite. With one final look to the creature, now camouflaged into its own shadows, Twilight twisted her features into a visage of pure rage.
Twilight’s spell faded, letting the darkness swallow her.