Moon, worn thin to the width of a quill,
And in the dawn clouds flying
How good to go, with light and still
Giving her light, though dying.
She lay upon the floor of the Eastern Tower. She was wounded, and weak, and in no state to leave this position. She figured she would be this way for a while. She was certain nopony would dare venture this way. Her place of refuge lay, almost ironically, in the centre of the battlefield. It had been torture, laying there weak and helpless, and listening to the agonising sounds of war as they folded in around her.
Just as the moon now began to disappear, her condition began to deteriorate. It faded behind the morning clouds, just as her hopes did with every second that passed. She blinked as the foggy dawn light seeped into her sleeping place - her eyes were made for the night, and she blinked them again as they began to become accustomed to the odd ambience.
It was only then that she realised what the dawn meant. Her eyes widened as the realisation began to sink in. She looked to the window, and she knew. If the sun was rising...
So was Celestia.
Celestia was alive.
The great Celestia, who had abandoned her subjects at their time of need, still rose the sun for them. Still made them face the day. Still sat in safety as they prepared for a day of fighting and feuds. A flood of anger rushed through her veins, but it receeded as she was too weak to let it flow. She let out a sigh as she let her muscles relax against the cold stone floor. The cool dawn air drifted between the debris and the smoke around her, and the remnants of the last battle hung in the air. She began to feel the last of her power seep from her and join the cloud of conflicting entities in the air. It was time to let go.
Princess Luna closed her eyes and drifted into her own eternal night.