Eternal

by device heretic

VII. Fantasies and Nightmares, pt 2

Twilight felt the connection sever, this time. It was like having a tooth pulled suddenly; she physically recoiled from the sensation, her horn suffering a sudden jolt of pain.

“Forgive me, but I’m a little annoyed with my sister just now,” Celestia said, still only somewhat visible in the distance. “And I’d like to have a personal moment, between us, if that’s alright with you.”

“That’s…fine,” Twilight managed. The tide of courage she’d felt growing in her was beginning to recede quickly.

She was alone here…with Celestia.

Maybe.

The distant figure cocked its head. “What was that? Speak up, Twilight.”

“I said it’s fine!” Twilight called. She shook her head and began the long walk up to the raised dais where the twin thrones of Equestria sat. Behind her, the doors slammed shut.

The Great Hall was such a busy room in Twilight’s memory, the center of so much activity in the palace, day and night, that this empty place felt eerie and unfamiliar even though she’d been here many times. The dying sunlight poured in through the tall windows lining the hall as well as the great stained glass pieces lining the roof and the bright rosace behind the thrones, filling the room with red and gold light, with snatches of other colors shining irregularly here and there.

Celestia, broken and withered, looked down at Twilight as she approached, smiling weakly. Twilight was close enough now to see her clearly; Twilight shuddered at how haggard and exhausted her mentor seemed—her eyes staring out dully from deep pits, her posture hunched and weak, her breathing labored. But it was indeed the wasted creature from the bier, animate despite itself.

“Princess,” Twilight said, carefully.

“Twilight. I’m so glad you felt the summons…time is short, and we have a great deal to say to one another.”

Twilight nodded. “We do…if you’re who you appear to be.”

The princess smiled, weakly. “It would be a bit pointless for me to say that I am, I suppose. But you should be able to satisfy yourself of that just by looking around yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, think for a moment about the symbolic significance of where we are and what that might represent in an abstraction of my mind. Work from what you’ve experienced so far—when you went to the room you stayed in as a filly, for example, you saw something like the maternal feelings I hold for you. And…when you went to my chambers…” The princess tried to give a coy smile.

Twilight blushed. “Er, about that—“

“What you saw were just…stray thoughts, Twilight, please don’t be embarrassed. You and Luna were on the right track; I’ve been stuck elsewhere, trying to fight off the setting of the sun. But alas…” She looked out the windows sadly.

“So now we’re here in the Great Hall…”

Celestia smiled down at her. “And I’m on the throne, again.”

Twilight frowned. “Back in the saddle, as it were?”

“For the time being.” Celestia’s smile faded. “But the sun is setting, Twilight, and we have to speak before you go.”

“Go? I’m not going to just leave you! We can figure—“

Celestia sighed. “Twilight, my beloved Twilight. Please. You’ve caused enough trouble already.”

Twilight was taken aback. “What do you mean?”

The princess regarded Twilight coolly for a moment, then looked away, seeming uncomfortable. “Twilight…I am trying to think of how to put this so that it’s not…as harsh as it might be...” She frowned, slightly, as she did when she was stuck on a bad sentence when writing a letter. “Come up here, will you? Sit next to me.”

“Uh…” Twilight looked up at her, nervously. There was only one other place to sit on the dais: the black throne, a slightly smaller version of the one Celestia was reclining on now.

“After all, I understand that I have two younger sisters now,” Celestia said, smiling slightly. “I got a letter about it, you know. This is a perk of being in the family.”

“Oh, that,” Twilight replied, blushing. “Um…” Nervously, Twilight mounted the dais and approached the throne.

“Bring back some memories..?” Celestia asked, pleasantly.

Twilight’s eyes went wide. “Uh, yes, I suppose it does.” She had, indeed, been up here once before—as a very young filly, she had burst into a court session and happily planted herself in the black throne and chattered away to the princess about completing her lessons early, much to the displeasure of the court. Lord Flashhooves never let her forget about it, to this day.

But more importantly, could a figment of Celestia’s mind know that? Was it really her?

What was going on..? Focus, Twilight, focus!

The princess sighed. “Those were happier times…they will comfort me, Twilight, as I rest. I want you to know that.”

Twilight hunched. “I…that…good, I guess.” Oh, no…

“I’m glad,” Celestia said, watching Twilight mount the throne awkwardly. She’d had to leap onto it as a filly; now it was just slightly too large to mount easily, even though it was smaller than Celestia’s.

Twilight made herself comfortable, as best she could, and turned to the princess. “So…it’s…” She trailed off, her eyes beginning to tear up.

“Too late? I’m afraid so, Twilight.” Celestia sniffed, herself, looking troubled by Twilight’s reaction. “Don’t cry, Twilight…as I’m sure Luna has informed you, this was…somewhat my fault.”

“Somewhat? It seems—“

The blow came out of nowhere. Celestia’s wings had jerked, unconsciously it seemed, spreading wide. The leading edge caught Twilight under the chin, slapping her head around.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Celestia said, guiltily, eyes wide with sudden distress.

“What was that for?” Twilight demanded, terror edging her voice.

Celestia looked pained. “It’s the fatigue, Twilight. I’m…” Her voice became wretched, the tone of somepony with a chronic illness forced to explain to a group of strangers why they’d just had a fit in public. “I’m not…totally in control of my body.”

The shamed embarrassment on her face was too much for Twilight. “I’m sorry.”

“Well..!” Celestia pursed her lips, suddenly, looking as if she were biting back a snap response.

“What is it? Please, Princess, you can be open with me.” Twilight’s moist eyes looked up at the princess, pleading. “I want you to be, if I’m going to lose you like this.”

The princess looked down at Twilight, a wary frown spread across her features. “Very well. But I warn you, Twilight, this will be hard for you to hear.”

“I said I’d see this through to the end, and I will…no matter what,” Twilight said, firmly.

“Twilight…it was very foolish of you and Luna to interfere in this,” Celestia said, uncomfortably. She looked away from Twilight, face uneasy.

“Why? What do you—“ Whoomph! The wing caught Twilight’s head again, almost causing her to fall off the throne. Her jaw ached, having been tossed by the blow.

Celestia appeared not to notice this had happened. “I tried to tell Luna, many times, that this wasn’t anything I hadn’t dealt with before...but she’s always been frightened of the time without me, and this will be a long sleep, so soon after her return.”

“So you—agh!” This time, Twilight actually had to grab out desperately for the far side of the throne to prevent her falling off.

“So I what..?” Celestia asked, looking around at Twilight. “What are you doing, Twilight?”

“Your…wing,” Twilight muttered, clambering back onto the throne. Celestia’s look of sudden horror and shame chilled Twilight, who said nothing more, trying to look sympathetic.

“I…” Celestia began.

“It’s fine, really,” Twilight said, hurriedly. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Thank you, Twilight. Your selflessness is very…well, yes, um.” Celestia turned away again, staring off into the fading light of the Hall. “So, where was I…ah, yes. So Luna sent you here after I tried to keep her out. I had hoped she’d get the message, but apparently not. I know you two were just trying to help, but…”

“We didn’t know what else to d—“ The crook of Celestia’s wing pounded into Twilight’s side, knocking the air from her.

“Twilight, I’m so sorry, oh…” Celestia began, looking humiliated and fretful.

“No, please…” Twilight hissed through the pain. “It’s fine. I understand…”

Celestia’s face fell, despairing. “Ah…I hate this! I want you beside me, Twilight, in this last moment together…” She looked completely wretched.

“I’ll be there. I understand.” Twilight tried to smile, but it was lame and hesitant.

“Well…forgive me, please.”

“I do! Luna and I—“

“Luna should have known better than to send you here alone, Twilight. I’m very angry with her. My mind is a dangerous place for you; full of evil memories that could have done you harm. I had to work very hard to keep you from them. It split my concentration, prevented me from focusing. And in doing so…” Celestia trailed off, giving Twilight a pained look.

The bit dropped for Twilight. It fell a long way, through her suddenly-hollow gut and into the little pool of dread, way down at the bottom. “Oh, no…”

“I’m afraid so, Twilight. That last effort, to help you realize…” Celestia cleared her throat. “I was desperate to free you from that, Twilight…I think you understand why.”

“I…I’m…” Twilight stammered, tears now flowing unrestrained from her eyes. “I didn’t mean to—!”

“I know you, didn’t, Twilight,” Celestia said, as her wing lashed out again—

“Aaargh! Boy, this filly’s strong!” Applejack cried, turning her head away from the thrashing wing.

Rainbow Dash grunted against the latest buffet. “I could break your leg with my wing, I don’t even want to think what she could do…man, you never think about it, but she’s huge!” The pair were doing their best, but Celestia’s huge, broad wing was much, much stronger than it looked. Wilted, greying feathers flew in all directions, seeming to burn away into little puffs of ash in the air.

Fluttershy whined in anxiety as she looked over Twilight’s battered body. “Um, at least one rib is broken. Not too badly, though…”

“She was lucky, then,” Rainbow Dash cried awkwardly, being tossed by the squirming wing. “It feels like she could break trees in half with these things!”

“Princess, why is this happening? What’s going on?” Spike cried, his arms wrapped around Celestia’s forelegs, in case they started moving, too.

“I have no idea,” Luna murmured, eyes wide. “I don’t understand, this doesn’t make any sense…”

Rarity turned to her, her horn lit bright with the effort of restraining the princess’ hind legs, in addition to Pinkie Pie sitting on them. “Is this some kind of seizure?”

Luna didn’t answer. If it had been a seizure, that wing blow wouldn’t have had such precise form. It was a sign of how peaceful modern Equestria was that Rainbow Dash didn’t recognize it for what it was; once upon a time, any pegasus would have seen it the same way an earth pony knew a good buck when they saw one. There was no way it had been unintentional; it took concentrated effort to make the wing roll in its socket correctly to strike something that was so close.

But with Celestia’s strength, it should have neatly snapped Twilight’s backbone in two. It wouldn’t have been the first time Luna had seen her sister do that, after all.

The blow had been carefully calculated to hurt, suddenly and quite badly, but had been checked so that it wouldn’t do any real permanent harm. And now the wing was just trying to slap at Twilight with the broad feathers of the trailing edge, which was frightening and confusing but not particularly dangerous.

A sudden insight struck Luna. It had been meant to wake Twilight up.

The princess of the moon looked to her sister, who looked as peaceful as anything for all that her wing was now thrashing in the grip of two powerfully built mares. Celestia was at war with herself…just as Luna had been, one dark night, so long ago.

It was beginning to dawn on Luna that she was going to have to force her way in and endure the darkness once again, for both Twilight and Celestia’s sakes, if she wanted any explanation for what was going on whatsoever.

All to spare Celestia’s pride the shame of admitting she was wrong.

Luna stared down at the two, chewing her lower lip anxiously.

--and stopped with an awkward jerk before it reached Twilight, who in her haste to recoil, had tumbled off the black throne.

Celestia stared at it. “Hmm…”

Twilight blinked, panting furiously. Fear paralyzed her as she looked over the edge of the throne. Suddenly Celestia’s wasted appearance didn’t seem pathetic and heartbreaking; she seemed monstrous in the red light of the dying sun.

“Twilight,” Celestia said, calmly. “Please, don’t be frightened. Be strong for me.”

“What’s going on with you?” Twilight asked, eyes wide. “What is this?”

Celestia looked at her coolly, eyelids drooping. “Well, this is a mental realm…and I am somewhat angry with you. And Luna. But please, don’t misunderstand…if things were more under control, I don’t…”

“Angry? At me?” Twilight asked, not really because she disbelieved it but because it seemed like the thing to say. She unfroze and walked around to the front of the dais, facing Celestia, who looked down on her with imperial dispassion.

“Yes, Twilight,” Celestia said. “Wouldn’t you be? I wish you two would have just…trusted me. I don’t think I’ve given you any reason not to.”

Anger flared in Twilight’s heart, her shame and sadness leaving her unable to control the sudden, fierce rage. “You gave us all kinds of reason not to! You insisted on dealing with this—this one thing—on your own, not telling us anything, not letting us help you like you always do…and you hurt me, Princess! You could have destroyed my mind!” She stamped a hoof, making a loud snap which echoed through the empty hall as punctuation to the sound of her fury.

“Twilight, my powers were out of control because of these events, and I was upset. I just wanted to talk to you before it was too late, and things got away from me. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t explain—“

“The issues between us have made all of this,” and here Celestia waved a hoof to indicate the fading light surrounding them, “So much worse, but they are unrelated to each other. They’ve just complicated the situation—motivated you to come here seeking answers, as much as any concern for my health, I understand.”

“Don’t you think I deserve some? Here, at the end of everything?” Twilight said through her teeth.

Celestia regarded her coolly from the throne. “I have given you such answers as I can. Now, you must leave. It’s not safe for you here.”

“Stop this!” Twilight’s eyes lit up with fury. “I don’t want to leave you alone! I know you’re scared. There must be something I can do to help you—“

“Twilight Sparkle!” Celestia roared, standing suddenly to her full and impressive height. Magic whirled around her, furious and terrifying; even Twilight, who had now and again wielded tremendous energies beyond imagining, recoiled from this display of power. “Do not think that because I am setting that I am some incompetent invalid, demented and broken. I am still your Princess!”

Twilight whined and fawned before this awesome spectacle. The Royal Canterlot Voice’s full power and authority did not brook defiance from mortal ponies.

The powerful magic faded away, and Celestia collapsed onto the throne, looking exhausted. “Trust me, now, Twilight, as you used to,” she said, in a voice weary beyond imagining. “Come here, please. I am angry…but it’s just…this whole situation. It’s…unfair, to both of us, brought about by everypony’s mistakes. I will not hurt you. Let us take our leave of each other in peace, I beg you.”

Twilight looked up at the fading princess, who now looked tired and sad, head hanging in miserable fatigue. Her breaths were shallow and strained. It seemed ridiculous that the wretched thing lying there had been the object of so much fascinated terror so recently.

Head hung low, Twilight approached her mentor slowly and lay at the foot of the throne, looking out with Celestia at the fading light of the Hall.

“Thank you, Twilight.” Celestia said, with extreme fatigue. “Please, just sit with me awhile…just for a moment, before you must go.”

They sat together, Twilight Sparkle at her mentor’s feet, one last time.

Just sitting.

Quietly.

There was peace, of a sort, but it was the anxious peace of deathbeds and train station terminals and everyplace else that has ever had to suffer the permanent parting of two ponies who love each other intensely. Time seems to both stretch on forever and speed by, moving towards the inevitable moment of separation in whatever manner suits least.

The light in the chamber fell, slowly, the only sounds Celestia’s ragged breaths and Twilight’s muffled little moans of sorrow. Neither seemed inclined to speak, lest it hasten the inevitable, for quite a long time.

The Hall was crimson-red when the silence was finally broken.

“Twilight,” Celestia said. “It’s time.”

Twilight looked up at her, the tears that she’d been forcing down through the long silence now bubbling into life. “Princess…”

“Twilight, you need to hurry. I wanted to stay with you as long as I could, but now, you must go. Do you understand?”

Twilight nodded solemnly, tears pouring down her face. She tried to speak, but Celestia shushed her.

“Twilight, let me say this to you, as my final lesson for you.” The worn, haggard face leaned down and kissed Twilight gently on the cheek. “Despite what’s happened, I am very proud of you. We all made mistakes, and I have to sleep, now…but Luna is going to need your help—all your help, all the Elements. I’m so glad you’ve bonded with her as you have.”

Twilight sniffled.

“I love you, and trust you to do your very best. Look at me. Watch me say this, Twilight, remember this: I love you, and trust you, and I look forward to returning to the world you and Luna build in my absence.” Celestia kissed Twilight’s forehead. “I know it will be a wonderful one.”

“Princess…” Twilight moaned.

“Shhh…go now, with my blessing, and all my love. I am sorry to have to leave you like this, but…learn from it. Grow. Blossom, Twilight, in Luna’s moonlight, having grown under my sun.” Celestia leaned back, looking more tired than ever. “I love you, Twilight Sparkle, and always have.”

“I love you, too!” Twilight burbled, her voice thick with unbearable sadness. “Oh…I can’t do this, I can’t leave you! Nothing’s been resolved…”

“Twilight, time is short.” Celestia raised her head, and the doors at the far end of the Great Hall opened, a hazy, bright light bursting in the frames, obscuring what lay beyond. “Long good-byes only extend the pain for everypony,” she observed. “Remember me fondly, please, as I will remember you.”

“But—“

“Twilight, please!” Celestia pleaded. “You’re only endangering yourself. Don’t burden me with that, as well…”

With one last look of desperate sorrow, Twilight turned and began the long walk down the Hall.

Her enthusiasm as she had approached the Great Hall, her path seeming so clear—mocked her, now. The pep talk from her friends? Well, it had gotten her here, to "see this through to the end, no matter what"…and it looks like she had found it.

Twilight desperately wished they could have stayed with her. That they could have been whispering reinforcement, and advice, and love to her through this entire conversation, which had gone so poorly. Everything she could have imagined going wrong, had. Nothing was resolved, nothing clarified…and it was, as she had feared it would be, all her fault.

Well, not all. Celestia had admitted that she had made—

Despite her misery, Twilight frowned in curiosity. She hadn’t explained what that had meant. She could have. But she didn’t.

Your problem is thatcher always thinkin’ up ways your not doin’ things right, or ways that things could go wrong.

Twilight paused. Why had she remembered that..?

“Twilight, you need to keep going,” Celestia’s voice called to her, but Twilight only distantly heard this.

You’re always in such a hurry to take responsibility!

You need to stop blaming yourself for this, Twilight…you don’t have to be happy to face the next trial…just willing.

Willing…well, she hadn’t been particularly thrilled to put her neck out again, and…she’d just sort of gotten a rush of motivation from her friends being here with her. It had withered and died immediately as soon as that terrible sensation of disconnection had hit her, and then she’d been confronted by…just about the worst possible way this could go.

Isolated from the friends whose strength and confidence had revived her. Celestia, hopeless and resigned to her fate. Twilight and Luna’s suffering and fear not only misplaced, but making things worse. Twilight and Celestia’s personal issues completely unresolved and not only that, secondary to the whole setting issue except for how they had motivated Twilight to act rashly—but then what had caused Celestia to deteriorate so quickly in Ponyville?

And finally, in the end, Twilight had been dismissed, her despair so deep that that last little act of tenderness—blessing her, in a way—had been a salve, dulling the hurt. But it didn’t cure it—it was just enough closure to get her out the door.

Twilight’s eyes opened wide as she realized what was happening.

This was an ending, just like the previous trap—this time, a tragic, unhappy parting where all Twilight’s secret fears were indulged, with just enough honey to make the poison go down smooth, instead of so much honey that pulling herself away had been like being rejected twice over.

But what did that mean? Twilight shook her head—she needed time to think. She could feel herself on the edge of something significant.

“Twilight, please! You need to go! Now!” For a being on her last legs, Celestia still had an unusual amount of bark left in her. Twilight ignored her, standing stock-still, her mind whirring away for the first time since she came into this terrible place—for the first time since she entered Celestia’s mind, really.

This Celestia had seemed so real! And she knew so much more about what was going on—

Just like Twilight herself did!

Just like the previous vision knew more than the one before it, and that one had been more knowledgeable and complex than the one before that—the longer Twilight was here interacting with this environment, the more clever and subtle the traps!

Think, Twilight, think!

“Twilight!” Celestia snapped. “Go!”

“No,” Twilight said, quietly. Her face raised from its miserable sorrow as the pieces began to click into place. A familiar expression of dawning realization spread across her features, a fierce smile of understanding gleaming in the dark.

This latest Celestia stirred. “I had hoped you would have the courtesy to part company with me with some decorum, Twilight. I know you’re upset—“

“You didn’t call me by name this entire time,” Twilight said automatically, as the realization struck her. “You can’t, can you?”

“I called you by name many times, but: Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia said, irritably. “Does that satisfy you?”

Twilight grinned darkly. “That is only one of the names that means me, and it’s not the one she would use to send me away for the final time! You just proved you’re not her. Not that I really thought you were anymore, I have to say.” Twilight turned on her heels. “I’m through playing games with visions and shadows. Do you know where she is? Tell me!”

The Celestia’s eyes narrowed. “I am no longer asking you to go, Twilight Sparkle; I’m telling you. Go. Now.” It seemed to have given up the charade of being the real Celestia, which suited Twilight just fine.

“I’m not leaving without speaking to the real Celestia. I’m going to see this all the way through, to the very end. I owe her that much—I won’t leave her now, when things are at their worst!” Twilight declared. “What are you..? Some sort of gate guard? Can you send me where I need to go? Answer me!”

The Celestia on the throne gleamed bone-white in the crimson light of the phantasmal sunset. “That was not a request, Twilight Sparkle. Go! Before it’s too late! If the sun sets while you’re here, death will be your only reward for your misplaced sense of purpose.”

Twilight sniffed the last remainder of her sorrow and spat it onto the floor in front of her in a display of resolute defiance. “I will not!”

“For somepony so dedicated to her princess, you’re awfully disobedient,” the vision said. Its mane and tail burst into searing, bright-blue flames. “One final lesson for you, then.”

“Save her.”

The Sun looked away from the image of the confrontation, down at Celestia. It had been the first thing she’d said since she’d finally lost control, despite the Sun’s best efforts to get some kind of response from her. Celestia had just lain there, looking sad, watching the best illusion yet as it almost tricked Twilight into failing her mission.

“What?” the Sun replied, pleasantly.

“Please,” Celestia said. Her voice was a tiny whisper, so drenched in shame that it was toneless. “Save Twilight. Get her out. I’ll…I’ll do anything you ask. Just don’t…” Celestia looked away, the remnants of her pride catching up with what she was saying. “Just help her. You can.”

“Oh? Then you’ll agree to set, will you?”

“Anything.”

The Sun pursed her lips. “Well I say that as if I need your permission anyways. I could do it right now, if—“

“No!” Celestia gasped. She looked away from the Sun’s smug grin, looking humiliated.

“So you just want her out, do you? No heart-to-heart with your faithful student?” The Sun’s voice was as mocking as it had ever been. “She seems to have a great deal she wants to talk about. Her determination after everything she’s gone through is…actually rather touching.”

Celestia shook her head. “It’s not important anymore. She just needs to get out. I just want her to be safe…that’s all.”

“If that’s your attitude…” the Sun grinned. “Absolutely not.”

Twilight dodged another explosion of blue flame as the raging creature stalked her through the ruins of the Great Hall; the pressure of the explosion caused a nearby panel window to shatter. The one-sided battle had reduced the proud chamber to a crumbling wreck; blasts of fire destroyed stonework, beams of heat melted statues into slag, thunderous blasts of pressure blew out windows, raining glass on the scampering purple shape, which leapt and darted to avoid danger with the easy skill of a born adventurer.

“Flee, Twilight!”

“Never!” Twilight roared. She leapt behind a collapsed pillar and tried to crawl for better cover.

The Nightmare of Celestia sneered. “Then at least show some spirit and fight back, would you? You’re embarrassing yourself, tossing yourself around like some hornless whelp. Or do you need that ridiculous, floppy Arch-Mage’s hat to feel comfortable enough to use magic now?”

With an imperious nod from the Nightmare, gigantic tendrils of white-hot energy, covered in spikes like massive briars, burst from the floor and smashed the pillar Twilight was hiding behind, seeming to grow up underneath it and crush it into powder. The unicorn yelped in terror and fled to a teetering statue of a ship.

Gottathinkgottathinkokayokayokay

The first vision had been that stupid graduation ceremony—it was so unsubtle that it was almost laughable—oh you don’t need me any more, Twilight, please leave.

“Twilight…this could all end much more quickly if you just left…or surrendered.”

“I won’t leave Celestia alone with you,” Twilight spat, pushing the statue with all her strength, so that it fell towards the prowling creature. The Nightmare sneered and summoned more tendrils of energy, crushing the statue like a kraken of pure sunstuff.

As she leapt to the next piece of cover, Twilight’s mind ticked away, desperately.

The next vision—the next one had been the mom thing. It had been a misguided attempt to “confess” a deep secret in the hopes that this would satisfy Twilight’s curiosity for long enough that she would leave—a strategy, rather than a direct rebuff. And it had been looking for emotional hooks in her mind, fears and private hopes to latch onto—it just pulled the ones that made her angry, by accident, rather than the ones that made her happy or frightened…

The Nightmare snarled with pleasure as she used the tendrils to hurl a chunk of the crushed ship at Twilight. The unicorn, consumed with her frantic attempts to understand her situation, reacted instinctively, teleporting out of the way—

“Princess!” Spike cried. “Uh, something’s happening…”

Luna had been lost in thought, searching desperately for any plan that did not include the risk of being lost to the Nightmare again. She turned, and her eyes grew wide. “Spike, quickly! Move Twilight’s head—”

Spike grabbed Twilight by the chin and jerked her head aside, just in time, as a shower of multicolored sparks sprayed, cracking and sparkling, from her horn. Had he not done so, they would have fired straight into the side of Celestia’s head. Instead, they exploded around Spike, making him bellow and rear back in surprise and pain.

“She knows she can’t use magic…” Luna growled, pacing up to her. Once again she tried to re-establish connection with Twilight, hoping to speak to her—and recoiled in horror.

“Oh, no,” she groaned. “No, no, no…” She looked to Celestia, who was as still as ever, and her terror was suddenly cut with a streak of confusion.

“What’s happening?” Rarity asked.

“Something like the Nightmare is in Celestia,” Luna said sternly, eliciting gasps and squeaks of fear from the room. “I must…” she trailed off, looking around the room. The Elements and Spike looked to her, frightened, hoping for guidance from their princess, and she suddenly felt extremely exposed and put on the spot. Unconsciously, her eyes fell on Twilight Sparkle.

They’re our friends, Luna. Don’t insult them by doubting it.

Luna took a couple deep breaths, firmed her expression, and spoke with as much confidence as she could. These were her friends, who she loved, and now they needed their princess to be brave and lead them.

And trust them with her shame and weakness. For Equestria!

“I must risk a great deal for my sisters,” she said, looking each of her friends in the eye in turn. “When I touched Celestia’s mind before, I was…almost overcome by the Nightmare. Spike, if it comes to it…dragonfire may do. If that fails, my friends, you must collapse this chamber on us. It is a powerful place, and will seal us with more than stone. Better there be no princesses in Equestria than two Nightmares. Am I understood?” She looked at them seriously, and saw the hesitance in their expressions.

“Princess…” Fluttershy said, weakly, reaching out for her. Luna touched her hoof to her friend’s and smiled.

“That is the contingency if I fail, my friends—and I intend not to,” Luna said, giving them all an encouraging grin. “Spike, you must keep Twilight’s head near Celestia’s, but prevent her from harming either of them if she uses magic again. Be brave, my friends…be with me!”

She threw her head back and let herself fall through darkness, towards the blazing knot of pain that was Celestia’s mind.

Twilight leapt through searing lashes of white-hot brambles like a jump rope, fleeing through the corridors of Canterlot. The monstrous creature followed inexorably behind, silent and furious.

The horrible servile nightmare Twilight had called on herself, well, that was a bit of an aberration…but it showed that the visions were getting more insidious and complex. And it had most directly manipulated Twilight’s self—she had given it access by misnaming herself. ‘Appearances are powerful, in the mind’, Luna had said…

Lances and bolts of vicious flame seared the air around her with piercing, screaming hisses of subatomic annihilation. Twilight ducked and weaved along the ballrooms, diving into one with a nimbleness her bookish nature didn’t suggest—but then, this was a mental realm, and in thought, when she let herself be…Twilight Sparkle was the strongest pony in Equestria. She wasn’t even giving much thought to what she was doing and still, somehow, the bolts and strikes went wide. The creature, whatever it was, seemed to take a silent pleasure in wrecking the scenery as much as trying to hound Twilight.

Focus, Twilight!

Next had been the grave of her friends—the all-too-easy excuse that for an immortal, emotional closeness was an unbearable pain. That hadn’t made any sense either—otherwise, why would Celestia have spent so much time with her up till now, being there for her all the time, being as loving and close as possible?

Twilight almost exclaimed her joy as she realized, but her breath was consumed with escaping the furious storm of fiery death around her.

The vision had tried to use how unfamiliar Twilight was with the death of close friends and relatives to scare her enough to believe Celestia had not long come to grips with this. No, Twilight and Celestia had been intensely close, and separated over time…which was partially Twilight’s fault, of course, but there was still the mystery of Celestia’s motivations.

Did she know she was setting that long ago? Luna seems to think she didn’t believe she had to, anymore—

Agh! What was the Eternal Sun? Had she done something to herself..? But if so, and it was going wrong, why was she so desperate not to let the two most qualified ponies in all Equestria help her fix it?

Did it have something to do with…this creature..? Was it controlling her, or affecting her? Maybe this was some kind of corruption, as Luna feared—

Twilight, deep in frantic, terrified thought, dodged and weaved through the attacks, instinctively blocking such blows as drew too near her with deflecting shields of magic.

Spike grunted as another shower of sparks burst across his thick chest plating.

“Spikey!” Pinkie Pie cried. Fluttershy flinched away from the sight, moaning into Rarity’s shoulder. The unicorn was looking up at the dragon with an expression of deep concern.

“It’s fine,” Spike said, through gritted teeth, trying to smile. “This is nothing…I live in the same house with her …been turned into worse…”

These last two visions had been…endings. First a happy ending, where everything was fine—better than fine, it had been something approaching…well, anyways—and now this…ha, Nightmare. The first had been a response to her desire for everything just to end, the second a response to her readiness for the final confrontation, come what may…

The tragic ending wanted her to leave through the doors to the great hall—the more pleasant previous vision of Celestia would have probably done the same. Something like…they would have gone to sleep, eventually, and then “woken up” on the stone bier, and Twilight would have walked out those stone doors in the chamber ahead of Celestia, or something. Willingly leaving, was the point, happy or no.

Okay, Twilight, think this through. You’re getting close!

Around her, the long galleries leading up to the observatories and greenhouses suffered a long string of detonations running along the huge panel windows, showering the unicorn with glass as she leapt through erupting, grasping tangles of the thorny tendrils of sunlight.

Something in Twilight told her that she was on to something, wondering what this creature was—but her information was limited, and too often, limited to what the creature had said, which was untrustworthy.

Or was it?

The first vision—it had been so completely false that Twilight hadn’t even thought for a second she was anywhere significant. The visions had grown more and more knowledgeable each time, the things they said borne out by events—especially these last two. A little breadcrumb of quotable wisdom occurred to Twilight: the best lies are the truth, plus or minus one fact.

So which was it, in this case? Was Twilight missing a fact, or was she accepting something false as true..?

Certainly the explanations this latest Celestia had given were reasonable. But as Twilight had originally noticed, they had glossed over a great deal. She’d admitted mistakes, but never elaborated on them; she’d implied a lot, and seemed to know that Twilight’s mind would fill in the blanks.

For example, the creature had implied it was the real Celestia because it was present in the Great Hall, implying that the throne represented—no, wait. Other way around: it implied that its presence in the Great Hall, on the throne, represented a position of authority and centrality to this whole affair, which made a certain amount of symbolic sense. But now that it was clear that this wasn’t the real Celestia—

Twilight, lost in thought, tripped on a fallen ornamental planter and slid across a tiled floor, throwing her to the ground, where she slid and skidded to a halt against a tall lectern. Tossing her head, she looked around desperately, horror growing.

She’d ducked into one of the ornamental greenhouses—the one where she’d given her first doctoral lecture, in fact. In times of stress, your body remembers stressful places; she had trapped herself in a room that begged to be turned into a blizzard of glass shards. Desperately, Twilight sought any exit except the one through which—

“Ah, and so our little chase comes to an end,” drawled the Nightmare of Celestia, appearing in the doorway. With careless, lazy blows, the creature sent lashes of energy out from itself, throwing the ornamental displays of rare plants and exotic flowers through windows or smashing on the floor, the noise and violence terrifying in its wanton pointlessness. “Twilight Sparkle, I offer you one last chance to go, willingly. One way or another, you will be removed from this place.”

“I won’t leave her,” Twilight growled, channeling her fear into defiance as best she could. “I’m close to her, I can tell…I’ve almost got this figured out.”

“Go now, little creature, or I’ll strip the flesh from your bones one limb at a time.” The Nightmare’s lip curled into a pleased sneer, as if it looked forward to listening to every sob of agony.

“An empty threat.” Twilight held her head up proudly. “I’m in Celestia’s mind. She’s already shown that she won’t let me be hur—“

The blow was sudden, and Twilight didn’t even have time to react to it. White-hot lines of staggering pain, so intense that her mind couldn’t protect itself from them, seemed to just appear on her sides as she was thrown across the room into one of the nearby shelves of horticulture tools. They fell around her in a shower of clattering metal as Twilight’s mind reeled, both from pain and the shock of this last little confidence being stripped from her.

“You were saying..?” the Nightmare said, with a vicious grin. Another set of the white-hot tendrils waved itself in front of the trembling form of Twilight, who quailed from them with a lame little whine of terror. “Perhaps you’d like to reconsider your defiant—“

A howl of deep, manic laughter sung out, growing closer from the hallway. The Nightmare of Celestia turned an irritable expression of curiosity over her shoulder, imperiously looking to see what the interruption was; she was immediately punished for taking the time to display this haughtiness as a blur of eye-aching non-color bowled her over, gripping her in terrible, tentacular bands of energy, and hurled the Nightmare through the doorway and several walls beyond it.

“L—Luna?” Twilight stammered, hoping against hope.

“Not…exactly,” whispered a deep, proud voice from inside the maelstrom of dark power. It burst, like a bubble, the remnants burning away strangely; and there, in the fullness of her power, stood the ebon form of Nightmare Moon, silver armor gleaming.

“L—No!” Twilight stammered. “No, no, no…”

“Well met, once again, Twilight Sparkle…” Nightmare Moon said, voice dripping with malice. Her amused, predatory grin grew evil and terrifying as Twilight’s look of dread deepened. “I’m going to go play with my "sister" for a while, alright? But don’t worry…” she leaned in, her brilliant, reptilian eyes shining menacingly. “I won’t forget about you, little one. Oh no…I have some special fun in mind for you.”

“Luna, please—“

“The little princess is gone,” Nightmare Moon declared, lifting her head and surveying Twilight with supreme arrogance. “And you are alone, now. No flashes of understanding and togetherness to save you, this time…do try to pick yourself up, will you? It would be so disappointing if you turned out to be boring.” She winked. “I look forward to you, now that you’re an Arch-Mage, Twilight. Just between us this time, eh?”

With a gale of mad laughter, she swirled a vortex of the unbearable non-color around herself and vanished into the hole she’d made with the other Nightmare.

Luna, her eyes blazing white with terrible power, screamed her agony. The magic lacing the howl of terror gave it an all-consuming, ear-shattering pressure that caused the ponies in the chamber to stagger and moan as their teeth ached and heads throbbed.

Spike shied away from the pain, but resolutely held Twilight’s head slightly proud of Celestia’s as the princess had ordered even though the bursts of magical sparks had appeared to have stopped. His chest scales were scored and burned here and there; no worse than they had been before, as he’d said, but in much more trying circumstances than he had ever wished.

Though his sensitive ears rang painfully, he was watching Luna carefully and uncomfortably, little snakes of green smoke leaking between his teeth. Weird energies, black and yet not black, swirled around the Princess as her deepest fear assaulted her relentlessly.

Angry red welts raised on Twilight’s side like she’d been beaten. Spike’s eyes opened wide in terrified anger, as, for the first time, he really roared, fury at his confusion and impotence fueling the very first sounding of the proud war-cry that lived in his draconic heart, but it was barely audible over the banshee howl of the princess as darkness threatened to consume her.

“Oh, my, things are getting very exciting, aren’t they..?” the Sun mused, but its mocking, sarcastic tone was hollow and troubled.

Celestia lay there, eyes closed, occasionally flinching when Twilight let out a little shriek of pain or terror. “Please,” she whispered.

The Sun sneered. “Why should I do anything? It’s your mind. You know what’s going on here. You could stop it if you wanted to. You could—“

“I can’t,” Celestia murmured. “I can’t anymore.”

The Sun’s head raised in shock. “Can’t…as in—“

“As in, I no longer have the strength. I wore it out trying to hold you.”

For the first time, Celestia willingly met the Sun’s gaze. The Sun peered at her suspiciously, eyes growing more and more wary as certainty dawned. They held each other’s gaze for quite a while, then the Sun’s head jerked away with a haunted expression. “You really can’t, can you..?”

“No.”

The Sun’s expression grew dark and uncomfortable for a second, weighing its options carefully.

If Celestia hadn’t broken herself so thoroughly, she would have been able to control her patience and her tongue, but the terrified little whisper, the one she knew would do nothing but tip the scales in the Sun’s mind, which should have died upon conception leaked past her lips without even token resistance. “Please, just get Twilight out of this—”

The Sun’s head snapped around, giving Celestia a fierce, scornful glare. “I got sick of playing along with your cowardice centuries ago.” She marched over to Celestia, who raised her head, looking sullen. “I don’t know why you think doing so will suddenly appeal to me again now.”

Celestia squirmed, trying not to believe she’d just killed Twilight’s last chance of survival. If only she weren’t so…loyal. So loving. So…

Faithful.

If only she would run.

Lost in her pain, she dropped her head back to the ground, though her eyes were glued to the image of Twilight getting to her hooves in the wreckage of the greenhouse. Because of this, she didn’t see the Sun’s expression, gazing down at the broken princess; it might have interested her.

In the distance, Twilight felt the flashes of terrible magical power as the Nightmares tore into one another viciously. It was like the physical presence of nearby thunder as it rolls through the sky; whispers of furious power which ever-so-clearly said: be glad you’re not in the thick of this.

Twilight’s side ached where the Nightmare had lashed her; every breath renewed the pain. She looked back on what was almost assuredly a grievous—

Bruise?

Her eyes opened wide as a great deal of thought happened at once.

Twilight could sense the furious power of those strange, white-hot tendrils. They should have sheared her in half! And why batter Twilight like that? If, for some reason, they weren’t as white-hot as they appeared, why not grapple her like that column and throw her out, if that’s what the creature—

It didn’t just want her gone, it wanted her to choose to leave!

The insight came suddenly, striking her like a thunderbolt; Twilight fell back on her haunches, wailing laughter and the sound of distant explosions unheard around her. She held her forehooves up in front of herself as if grasping the ideas in her mind, staring down at the area between them in desperate concentration.

This creature had been trying to scare her off, drive her away, frighten her with more and more pain since the very beginning of this last vision…and yet, it seemed desperate for Twilight to be near it—as if it both hated and craved Twilight’s presence. It had been relatively subtle at first—the “uncontrollable” wing buffets, the passive-aggressiveness—but now that Twilight was showing defiance, it had become supremely overt, frantic to get Twilight to choose to leave, because—

Twilight's mind reeled, spinning out ideas faster than she could keep track—the downside of genius, Celestia had said once, with a smile. The memory lit a little fire of warmth in Twilight's heart, burning away at the numbing cold of her fear.

And the magical attacks! They’d been so…misdirected, so misaimed, more consumed with being large and flashy and jarring, trying to break Twilight’s concentration and frighten her than actually striking home. It was the equivalent, in a way, of a shouting match…

Another thought suddenly struck her, causing her smile to fall away into an "O" of comprehension. The Nightmare form, with the fire—

It had been like it had taken a mask off.

Masks! Masks!

Masks—that was important. It was a little concept, a fragment of thought, an image that Celestia used to think about her interactions with other ponies. Twilight’s memory of the confrontation in the library was still very hazy, but she remembered Celestia using the words “little lies we tell other ponies” to describe the ‘masks’. In that case, it had been the mask of dignity, the one Twilight had been trying to become to impress the princess—but there were other little lies that could be worn to affect the way somepony thought about you.

The proud teacher, dismissing her student to become her own pony.

The secret mother, seeking redemption and understanding.

The stern taskmistress, arrogant and unyielding.

The tortured immortal, distant for the sake of her own heart.

The beautiful mentor, humbled but all the more open and oh, so reachable for it.

And this, the last mask—more a scenario, really, but they all were—this last was the mask of the tragic, final confrontation. The best mask, the one most carefully crafted to take advantage of Twilight’s own insecurities—the final confrontation in which it was All Her Fault.

Twilight realized her error now. She’d been using Luna’s words to understand the visions, trusting her expertise in dreams, thinking of these visions as traps, constructed scenarios meant to snare her somehow. And Luna would think that way—being lost in a nightmare for a millennium would grind that perspective in deep.

But this was Celestia’s mind—Twilight needed to think from Celestia’s point of view. These had all been masks! Why does somepony wear a mask for you? They’re not traps, they’re deflections, drawing attention away from the real you! Traps tried to take you in, masks keep you out.

Twilight, by resisting so firmly and decisively, had gotten the latest mask to fall off and had revealed the truth beneath it: the Nightmare of Celestia.

The little history lesson Luna had given on the stairs had been bubbling in the back of Twilight’s mind for some time. Now certain facts lined up in her mind and things began to make a lot of sense.

First, that the emotional states of powerfully magical ponies were intensely important. In fury or despair, a unicorn could perform feats of magic with power they would never otherwise be able to summon, but their lack of mental discipline meant the results were chaotic, unpredictable and dangerous. For the Sisters, this risk must be unimaginable—well, no, that’s not quite true; Twilight was stuck in a mental abstract with the consequences of that risk, now. Both of them, in fact.

Suppressing a little shudder, Twilight forced herself to move on.

Next, Luna’s attachment to the idea that these visions were traps suggested that the Nightmare Moon phenomenon was…indeed, a kind of mental snare. A literal nightmare, brought to life by the power of her dream magic, which had consumed her in the ancient past.

Celestia, lacking this magic, might not be at risk of being consumed by an incarnation of her powerful emotions in the same way…she’d be more like a regular pony, where it would just prowl her mind, causing her as much pain as possible. Here in this abstraction of Celestia’s mind, it became this terrifying being that was so like Nightmare Moon, which had been able to incarnate itself in the dream realm through Luna’s magic as she drove herself wild with rage and terror.

Luna’s Nightmare had been born out of fear for her sister, becoming the terrifyingly powerful thing, Nightmare Moon. Celestia’s Nightmare, then...

What fear did this creature represent? Something about setting? Maybe it was really painful, or... no, this must be about the about the truth of the Eternal Sun—maybe there was some dark secret to that...

Twilight sat in the ruined conservatory, tapping her chin with her hoof, looking for any scrap of insight she could find. For some reason, her mind kept falling back on Luna’s insistence that she focus on her own dream, and how Celestia didn’t need a subject—

Then realization dawned.

“No,” Twilight whispered. “No, it’s…” Tears welled in her eyes—not really sad tears. In some ways, they were tears of relief. Her heart ached as she realized what was happening, why Celestia’s mind had bounced Twilight’s own insecurities back at her so carefully, why the incarnation of her fears was now so brutally trying to make Twilight abandon Celestia.

Fear wasn’t quite the right word, was it..?

“I know your name,” Twilight mumbled, unconsciously. The sound startled her, and she replayed it in her mind, a broad smile of understanding leaping to her features. “I know your name!” she declared, with the true academic’s satisfaction as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. She clapped her hooves together.

Okay, Twilight thought. We have a working theory on that. The creature might get desperate enough to kill me, but at least I know what to call it!

Twilight turned to the hole made by the warring Nightmares, hearing now the spectacular roar of their battle, and she understood what she had to do.

She smiled, very slightly, and put one hoof before the other.

“Twilight, no!” Celestia gasped. The Sun looked up from where she was reclining a short distance away with casual interest, eyebrow raised.

The images of Twilight’s determined little smile and firm hoofbeats consumed the princess’ attention; as Twilight had sat musing, Celestia’s face had been a miserable battle between something approaching terror and the smallest little hint of pride. But now, Celestia’s horror was evident; her eyes were wide and unblinking, her slack jaw drew in shallow, panicky breaths.

The sun looked away again, inspecting a hoof with a bored expression. “My, my, she is a brave one. And clever. Heart of solid gold, too, it appears.” She gave Celestia an extremely patronizing grin. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, I have to give you that much.”

“She’ll die,” Celestia whispered, turning to the Sun, eyes wide and hollow with dread.

“Faithful to the end, then. An honorable death, as so many ponies have written bad poetry asking for,” the Sun said, turning to her and smiling smugly. “Although of course, she won’t die. Not right away at least…but she’ll be much less fun at parties, lacking a mind.”

“Don’t you care?”

The sun rose from where she was reclining and walked over to Celestia, smiling pleasantly. “Deeply, Celestia. Deeply. Don’t you?”

“Of course I care,” Celestia stammered, a tear beading down her cheek. “Please. Do something. I can’t, anymore, I…I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll—“

“Oh, don’t beg. You’re just embarrassing yourself more than you already have,” the Sun said, her happy little smile becoming, with terrifying speed, into a savage sneer of utmost disdain. “And anyways, you should know better than to cry favors from me. You know exactly what you need to say to make me go to her. What you need to ask. So ask.”

Celestia’s eyes flickered from the Sun’s expression of disdain to Twilight leaping nimbly through the ruins of Canterlot Castle, approaching the Great Hall where the Nightmares awaited her. The princess’ lower jaw trembled, desperate little noises rising in her throat as terrified little sobs threatened to overwhelm her.

“Say it!” the Sun roared. If Celestia had been in a better state, mentally, the edge of desperation that slipped into the Sun’s voice wouldn’t have escaped her attention.

Twilight rounded the last bend again—or would have, if it still existed as anything but wreckage. Instead she was leaping through the remains of walls, her surroundings covered in horrific burns and scoring, some of it still being eaten away by exposure to the insane power of raw nightmare, distorted weirdly and dripping upwards like water in reverse. Twilight shuddered as one such droplet shattered on the ceiling with a little scream of unreal energy.

She peeked through a blow-out wall into the Hall and saw the Nightmares sitting opposite one another on the dais in a weirdly calm fashion. The thrones had been reduced to cinders and ashes, or half-fused into the floor by a distortion of reality, surrounding the two dreadful creatures in smoking heaps of metal like a burst-open ribcage—a truly macabre display in the red light of the dying sun, which poured into the wreckage of this magnificent place like blood from an open wound, thick and horrible.

The sounds of their battle had calmed to a deadly quiet compared to the thunderous blasts earlier, little snaps and crackles of energy occasionally rasping loudly between them, but the air was filled with an almost inaudible keening wail as magical energy boiled hot between the two Nightmares. Such was the power they were wielding that it was visible even to sight-beyond-sight only as little flashes of energy lancing impossibly fast between them, like tiny darts, the only indication either of them giving that anything was going on an occasional twitch or slight sneer.

Nightmare Moon’s face was alive with malicious delight, her veneer of cool and predatory disdain gone now that the love of battle burned hot in her. Her smile was lunatic, broad and terrible, a creature deriving perverse joy from destruction and the promise of a worthy opponent’s brutal and messy end. The nightmarish vision of Celestia responded with a stare of proud, intense fury, deliberate and impending as a distant hurricane.

Twilight pulled her head back into cover, eyes scanning back and forth unseeing as she desperately turned her mind inwards to think of something to do. Now that she understood what was happening, her first goal needed to be—

“Oh, dear, our little duel seems to have a witness! How delightful,” Nightmare Moon purred. “Or did you call her as a second? After your weak showing, I could go for seconds.” She chuckled, a dreadful sound dancing on the very edge of sanity. “Do come out, Twilight Sparkle, we both know you’re here.”

Twilight hesitated for a moment, then stepped through the hole and into the Hall, slowly pacing forward, trying to keep some significant piece of rubble between herself and the Nightmares as best she could. They didn’t move, but one of Nightmare Moon’s slitted eyes followed her very carefully, moving in a disturbingly reptilian fashion, like a chameleon’s.

“Stop hiding, little one, it doesn’t impress,” Nightmare Moon continued. If a cat could talk, watching a bird caught under its paw struggle vainly, it would speak with the tone of voice the Nightmare used now. Proud, greedy…hungry.

The Nightmare of Celestia’s eyes moved and fell on the unicorn. “Twilight Sparkle, the door is still open to you,” it said in a voice filled with imperial arrogance and iron fury. Twilight risked a glance back at the main doors to the hall, which were still open and filled with the weird, smoky haze. “Go, now, or suffer the consequences of your stubbornness.”

“No,” Twilight said, simply, turning back to the Nightmare of Celestia with a firm expression. “I won’t leave, and I certainly won’t leave without dealing with you. I understand what’s happening, now. I won’t let you hurt Celestia any more!”

The Nightmare’s eyes narrowed. “It is not Celestia you should be concerned about, Twilight Sparkle; in any case, that is not your decision to make, nor something you have power to influence.”

Twilight’s face broke into a grin. “Then kill me. If you can.”

“I have no wish to—“

“Of course you don’t,” Twilight said, smugly.

“Do not tempt me, little creature. I have more than enough power here to deal with this mad thing and drive you out, broken and howling. I may not wish to kill you, but I promise that when you finally flee from this place, you will suffer for any resistance you show. You will wish I meant to kill you. Spare yourself the agony and flee, now.”

Nightmare Moon howled laughter. “That’s rich. You’re barely keeping me from pulling your heart out through your nose as it is, and now you’re threatening Twilight Sparkle as well? You overestimate yourself.” She turned a baleful, hate-filled grin on Twilight. “Here, I’ll spare you the trouble—“

Twilight barely had time to react as two massive lances of unreality soared from Nightmare Moon’s feet and dove at her with furious speed. Nothing she could generate fast enough would stop them; she flinched away—

A hiss and scream of energy and the presence of intense heat suddenly overwhelmed her as the Nightmare of Celestia teleported between Nightmare Moon’s lances and Twilight, summoning blisteringly hot, blinding barriers of wrathful sunlight. The blow struck, throwing the Nightmare tumbling back through the hall, loud snaps and horrible, fleshy tearing echoing in the empty, broken chamber as wings and legs were caught on the floor and wreckage.

Despite herself, Twilight called out. “Celes—“

Nightmare Moon howled with mad laughter. “You really are hopeless, Twilight Sparkle. As long as it’s big and white and shiny, you’ll drool all over it and sit up and beg when it asks.” Twilight, still staring at the broken heap of the Nightmare of Celestia, heard a hoofbeat snap loudly on the stone as Nightmare Moon began to step closer with deliberate, dreadful slowness. “Then again, you also seem to have quite a hold on this pathetic creature, as well…it’s very protective of its plaything.”

“Both of you…” the wretched doppelganger of Celestia groaned. Twilight’s stomach heaved to see its bones setting themselves, snapping back into place with loud cracks and grotestque, meaty noises. “Get out…”

“So, you think you’ve figured things out, Twilight?” Nightmare Moon asked, almost pleasantly. Twilight turned, quickly, and—

Ohheavensshe’srighthere, Twilight managed to think, before falling over backwards. Nightmare Moon’s breath spread over her face, icy and cutting like the bitterest of northern winds in deepest winter. Her sapphire eyes blazed with dreadful power, and—

Twilight shuddered as Nightmare Moon winked at her, licking her lips hungrily in a mock-gesture of condescending, predatory hate. “Do share your findings, will you? We’re all just agog for a lecture from the Arch-Mage,” the creature said, leering.

“I…I…” Twilight stammered.

Nightmare Moon tsked and turned her head, presenting an ear. “I’m sorry, dear. I can’t quite understand you. Ah ah ah!” This was directed towards the other Nightmare, which had begun to rise. Nightmare Moon sent a contemptuous blast of power at it, sending it reeling. “You had your chance. I’m playing with her now.”

“Luna, please,” Twilight said, desperately. “Luna, listen to me—“

Nightmare Moon’s playful expression vanished, replaced with a truly terrible grin of triumph. “The little princess gave herself over to me,” she hissed, reveling.

Something like a smile tried to spread on Twilight’s face. “I know,” she said, a glimmer of confidence burning bright like a match that refused to be snuffed, even as the hurricane howled around it.

“I’m so sorry, princess,” Spike said, voice harsh, and with a terrible roar that terrified the ponies around him, breathed a huge gout of fire onto the screaming figure of Luna. It spread and crackled strangely over the cocoon of unreal, terribly energy surrounding the princess, swirling along with the pulses of darkness, vanishing upwards in a crackling pillar of flaring, gleaming explosions, sending the ponies scattering for cover.

“Enough, Spike! Enough!” Applejack shouted over the din, sneaking closer to Spike so that he could hear her over Luna’s otherworldly, terrifying howl. The dragonfire stopped and Spike slouched forward, clutching his sides. The crackle of Spike’s fire burning off the darkness died down quickly, the last little snaps and hisses sounding disturbingly like a mocking snicker.

Rainbow Dash shook her head, denial and terrible sorrow looming in her eyes. “We waited too long! We lost her..!”

“We have to start for the surface!” Rarity shouted. “We don’t know how long we have before—“

“No! I’ll try again!” Spike growled. He reared back, taking in an inrush of breath, but his eyes suddenly grew wide and he collapsed to all fours, coughing and grunting in agony. Rarity and Pinkie Pie immediately leapt to his side, helping him up as he hacked and wheezed, every breath appearing to pain him intensely.

Fluttershy chewed her lower lip as everypony began arguing. Applejack and Rarity took sides against Spike and Dash, tempers inflamed by their fear and desperation, as well as memories of the agonizing discussion about whether Spike should obey the princess’ command. Fluttershy and Pinkie had tried to stay out of it, both of them disturbed and deeply frightened by everything that was happening.

She looked to Luna, whose face was a study in terror and pain, and felt a very, very familiar need rise in her heart—

Hey, wait! That always works, in stories…!

Alright, Fluttershy, time to save the day!

Applejack looked up, and her eyes went wild with panic. “Fluttershy, no!”

Nightmare Moon’s expression grew wary. “What?”

Encouraged by this for no reason at all, Twilight lunged forward and grabbed Nightmare Moon’s head, pulling it to her own until the icy-cold of the Nightmare’s armor was pressed hard against her forehead. Their horns clicked against each other awkwardly.

“Luna, listen to me! We’ve been wandering around an empty mind! It’s been doing nothing but reflect our own fears and insecurities back at us—none of this is what Celestia really thinks or feels! Agh!” Nightmare Moon, snarling, had recovered from the shock of Twilight’s sudden action and was thrashing her head, struggling against the unicorn’s grip. “And I know why you’re always Nightmare Moon when you touch Celestia’s mind! Please, listen to me!”

“Unhand me at once, you wretched little—“

Twilight’s eyes grew wild with focus as she strained against the unbelievable strength of the Nightmare. Physical contact wasn’t required for this, but she had some idea that this would make it difficult for Nightmare Moon to just casually brutalize her instead of being forced to listen. “Luna! It’s like the ‘humble servant’ thing! You’re giving her mind access because you’re giving it the wrong name, in your heart! I know you’re afraid Celestia still thinks of you as Nightmare Moon, but I promise she doesn’t!”

Nightmare Moon snarled. “Luna is gone! This isn’t some stupid mind game, you idiotic foal!”

“It is! Just like I’m not Celestia’s mewling little slave, I’m her Faithful Student! Luna, please, listen! Aaaah!” Nightmare Moon bit deep into the thigh of Twilight’s hind leg, but Twilight refused to let go. Her horn ached painfully every time it clacked against Nightmare Moon’s, the Nightmare’s dark power sending waves of revulsion through her. “Luna, I know you’re frightened of the darkness in yourself, but please, it’s not Nightmare Moon, it’s just pain. We understand! We know you’re hurt, please, please hear me…that pain isn’t Nightmare Moon!”

“Your princess is gone,” Nightmare Moon bellowed. The force of it was like a hoof in the gut, but with desperate strength Twilight held on, yelping in pain. “She dreamed me, and now I am the reality! She was nothing! Wiped out, consumed willingly by my greatness!” Every declaration was another blow.

“Remember your name, Luna! Princess Luna, Princess of the Moon, Mistress of the Stars, Queen of the Dreams, She Who Walks Amongst The Heavens—“ Twilight scoured her memory for Luna’s many, many names and poetic epithets through history. The unicorn’s own name, the one that meant her, was so personal, and so abstract…oh heavens, I didn’t prepare for this, it could be anything! “The Pearl Eye! She of Diamonds! Speciosam Musica Spei! Oh, oh—Luna, please, Luna!”

Nightmare Moon gave a great roar, and reared, lifting Twilight up into the air. The corrupted alicorn tossed her head forward and sent the unicorn flying bodily against a fallen pillar. Twilight crashed against it with a howl of pain and surprise.

Before Twilight could react, the Nightmare was upon her, standing proudly over the unicorn, eyes wide and nostrils flaring with a spectacular rage. Gone was the cackling madness; now hate burned white-hot in Nightmare Moon, fixing her on a single purpose: the messy, brutal, and prolonged destruction of Twilight Sparkle.

Nightmare Moon lowered her muzzle down and stared deep into Twilight’s eyes—not even taking the time to delight in the unicorn’s terror, such was her fury. “There are not words for what I am going to do to you, Twilight Sparkle,” she hissed. Blue energy was flowing between her teeth like drool, smoking and curling up from it in a display of terrible power.

Twilight tried to edge away, raising a hoof in front of her face as if to ward off insane, mind-wrecking annihilation with this pathetic display. “No, Luna, please—sister—“

There was a sudden rush of sensation and a weird feeling of jerking movement in her gut. A strange sense of diminishing overwhelmed the area in front of her, although Twilight could not have expressed exactly how this was so. It was as if a vacuum had opened in the space above her, something being sucked away and vanishing.

Twilight dared to peek up at the source of the shadow looming over her.

Luna, trembling and weeping openly, looked down at her. “That’s twice now, Twilight,” she said, and began to collapse.

Twilight leapt forward, forelegs outstretched to catch her, her hind leg complaining loudly about the flowing, aching wound there. “Luna!”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help more...my sister,” Luna whispered, her voice fading along with her body as it fell through Twilight’s grasp and vanished.

Luna blinked, and immediately felt panic grow in her. Her torso and wings were being restrained—

“Princess?” asked a quiet voice, fear and hope mingled into an awkward murmur.

“Fluttershy?” Luna rasped, her throat in agony. She looked down into Fluttershy’s face, which was miserable with tears of relief.

“Oh, thank goodness,” the pegasus sobbed, burying her face in Luna’s chest. “My hug worked!”

The princess looked around to see everypony else stopped in mid-shout as they leapt to stop Fluttershy from touching her. Spike was giving her a particularly wary glance, rubbing his throat, and she nodded at him gratefully.

“Er…yes, dear Fluttershy…but you need to let me go,” Luna said, awkwardly, patting the now-sobbing pegasus on the head. The embrace ceased, but Fluttershy looked up at Luna miserably. Luna tried to give her a hopeful smile as she rushed over to Twilight and Celestia. “This is far from over.”

Twilight stared at the place where Luna had been. Panic flared in her for a second as several extremely unpleasant possibilities occurred to her, each less likely than the last.

Focus, Twilight! You have to assume she’s back in the waking world now—

“Well done,” Celestia’s voice said, calmly.

Twilight turned, looking over the collapsed pillar at the restored form of the Nightmare. Instinctively she fell backwards, scrambling away from the terrifying creature despite the screaming protests of her aching limbs.

The Nightmare calmly stepped over the rubble and stalked after Twilight, growing nearer and nearer with every step. The unicorn struggled desperately to get to her hooves, but the creature was already close, too close, she was already upon Twilight and now she would—

Pass right by the unicorn and ascend the dais again.

Twilight stared as the Nightmare, mane and tail still flaring an eye-watering blue, summoned a new throne from the material of the dais and took her rest upon it, once again looking haggard and tired as she had not while filled with furious wrath. It was bulky and intimidating as Celestia’s had never been; a slate-grey bier that looked more like the one on which Celestia’s body lay than the simple, but elegant throne it replaced. It was also set up in the center of the dais; no more Twin Thrones of Equestria here.

“Well…done,” it said again, watching Twilight get up.

“Uh…” Twilight looked around the ruined Hall, still bathed in dying sunlight. “Thanks, I guess?”

“I am impressed. You have divined quite a bit about what is happening to you with a respectably small amount of trustworthy information.”

“Well, since most of that information is being provided by, or taken from, my own mind…” Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Or something like that.”

The Nightmare said nothing, but blinked and shrugged in such a way as to indicate that this may or may not be the case.

“Celestia isn’t here, in this place, and never was,” Twilight said, a hint of a question in her statement.

“Well, she certainly was. This is her mind, after all. But she is removed from it at the moment, yes.”

Twilight stepped forward. “Well, I know she’s watching over me. Trying to help.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. She’s spoken to me, directly. And has helped in other ways.”

The Nightmare raised an eyebrow, but still appeared calm. “Weakening her will. Causing her to set. Taking her from you, for the rest of your life. You did that. You.”

“Possibly,” Twilight said firmly, though it pained her to acknowledge. Courage, this time, was rising slowly in her; like a tide of shining, golden liquid, brilliant and sweet-smelling, rather than in a rush which would recede quickly, breaking on events like a wave on stone. It wasn’t a hot, burning feeling pushing her forward; it was a cool, solid sensation that filled her and put her at ease despite the circumstances. She felt free to act as she pleased, the frantic demands of fear and anger and sorrow dulled and muffled.

The Nightmare seemed to find this lack of response deeply annoying. It frowned, irritably, and a pulse seemed to run through its mane. “So she is watching over you? Helping you?”

Twilight set her face. “Yes.”

“Has it occurred to you that she is helping you leave? Helping you escape?”

“It has,” Twilight said, nodding. “I’m almost certain that’s what she’s doing. Or thinks she’s doing, in any case.”

The creature favored her with a scornful sneer, rolling its eyes. “I suppose it’s too much to ask that you accept her help?”

“Yes.”

“And what virtue are you pretending this arrogance is? Loyalty?”

“No,” Twilight said. “Just being there when she needs me. I am, after all, the Faithful Student, right down to the very heart of me. Those are the words that truly mean me.”

The creature stood, its horribly wasted wings fluffing outwards irritably. “Does the fact that she has not offered you more material assistance than a whisper of guidance and a snatch of words, sent to a figment of your combined anxieties, strike you as particularly telling about her intentions?”

Twilight grinned. “Not really. After all, knowing what you are tells me how pointless it would be to even wonder about that sort of thing. I know nothing about her current circumstances—“

“All but dead!” the creature interrupted. It took a step down from the dais, snarling. “Waiting for her wretched, foolhardy, ignorant pupil to leave so she can rest in peace, with nothing to look forward to recalling about you that is untainted by the memory of your miserable, selfish failure here at the uttermost end of things—“

Twilight stamped a hoof. “I don’t know anything about Celestia’s position! And I know now that you can only tell me enough of the truth to accomplish your goal—so you ran out of truth a long time ago!”

“My goals? Doesn’t it seem likely that my preeminence here suggests that I am acting with sanction?” The Nightmare's eyes blazed with contempt. “Fool! You may be thought wise among ponykind, but in the mind of an eternal creature, you’re an infant. Do not presume to understand or comprehend Celestia—haven’t you seen enough strange things here in her mind to realize you have no idea who she is?”

“On the contrary! Everything I’ve seen only makes me know her better,” Twilight remarked, her confident grin spreading. “All these strange images and scenarios only prove that she’s confused and frightened.”

The Nightmare’s patronizing grin of contempt was almost a physical force. “Oh, my, it must feel nice, having such confidence that a creature, a divine creature like Celestia holds you in such high regard that her mind would be troubled by your ultimately ephemeral life—“

Twilight waved a hoof. “Enough of this. You’re getting desperate, and it’s embarrassing us both. I know what you are, and what you want, and I won’t do it. Period. I’m staying here and finding a way to Princess Celestia. I don’t know how, but I am sure there is a way.”

The creature drew itself up haughtily. “Oh, well…do share your thoughts, Arch-Mage.”

“Your goal is to get me to choose to leave—to abandon Celestia to her rest—either voluntarily, or by frightening me or hurting me enough that I flee. Is that not so?”

The Nightmare’s haughty expression was damaged somewhat by its eyes suddenly growing haunted. “And if it is?”

Twilight grinned. “And you don’t want me to be killed here, because that would run counter to my purpose in the little story you're trying to torture Celestia with.”

“You gathered this from me protecting you from Nightmare Moon, perhaps? I just wanted to do it myself—“

“Don’t be stupid. You had plenty of chances to kill me, but you couldn’t stop offering to let me go. And when you were chasing me, you were barely trying to hit me at all—just scare me, and break my concentration so I couldn’t figure you out.” Twilight stepped forward, head held high and proud, a grin of triumphant understanding lit on her face. “You only have form and shape because of these circumstances—because my mind is providing me with images to understand what I’m seeing. You’re just an emotion, a vicious, painful canker in her mind. I won’t let you hurt Celestia anymore.”

The flaming creature smiled darkly. “You seem awfully sure that you have any power to do anything about it.”

Twilight’s eyes blazed. “You took your mask off, and now I know the truth about you. I know your name, Nightmare of Celestia!”

The Nightmare’s face grew dark. A predatory sneer spread across its features. “Then say it, whelp, so that I can break you of your defiance with the pleasure of knowing you will live the rest of your pathetic, all-too-brief existence fearing even the sound of it.”

“You’re Guilt,” Twilight said, smugly.

Guilt, the Nightmare of Celestia, smiled down on Twilight horribly.

The unicorn stepped towards it, face set in determined surety. “And because I know that, I know exactly how to defeat you.”

“Oh? Well…” The nightmare made an expansive gesture. “Be my guest and try. Delay the inevitable.”

Twilight cleared her throat, giving the Nightmare a proud look, and spoke.

“Dear Princess Celestia—“

The Sun looked down at Celestia, who was staring, fascinated, at Twilight.

“Yes, my faithful student..? I hear you,” the princess whispered, her face sad and quiet. A tear rolled down her cheek, unnoticed.

“She has abandoned you, little unicorn,” the Nightmare snarled, but discomfort lived in its voice. “Accept that she is leaving you and be gone from this place!”

“Dear Princess Celestia,” Twilight repeated, her voice ringing loudly in the ruined Great Hall. “Today, and in the past few days, I’ve learned many important things. Let me share them with you…” She took a step towards the Nightmare, who bristled.

“In the last few months I had grown sick in the mind. I was afraid that you no longer cared about me, or had at the very least lost interest in our personal relationship and cared more about our professional association. I was terrified to confront you about it, because if I did, I might learn that I was right.” Twilight’s grin as she prowled forward towards Guilt would have made a tiger sit down and take notes.

“Stay away from me, or—“ the Nightmare hissed.

“So I drove myself mad trying to make myself perfect for you, thinking that if I did, you’d come to me and love me again, like you did when I was your student. But I was acting out of fear and was destroying myself. I couldn’t bring myself to face the possibility that something so important to me might be changing into something so…painful. Even the possibility terrified me.”

The Nightmare stepped backwards. “Stay back!”

Twilight’s smile began to soften as she drew closer to the Nightmare. “Luna helped me face that fear, deep in my mind, and helped me dream for myself again, instead of dreaming only of pleasing a version of you which never really existed. I saw something in the vision of my heart’s true desires that has helped me understand what’s happening here.

“When I was a student, I always thought of you as perfect. You were so powerful, so wise, so giving, so beautiful—and eternal, it seemed to me, above and beyond the petty cares of mortal ponies. But that’s the mask, isn’t it? The same mask I was trying to wear. You wear it because that’s what your position seems to demand of you.”

“Stay away from me with your empty words, Twilight Sparkle!” the Nightmare bellowed.

“But in my heart of hearts, I understood what my mind wouldn’t see: you’re terribly lonely, aren’t you..?” Twilight’s eyes filled with loving tears, her heart spilling over with affection and sympathy. “You were alone for a thousand years, the mask keeping everypony close enough to see but just too far for you to dare to try to touch.

“There’s something more to all of this, I can tell. Something about the Eternal Sun and this whole rising and setting business. But this whole time, I’ve been wandering an empty mind, having my fears bounced right back at me, not because you’re afraid of setting, itself…it’s me you’re really afraid of, isn’t it? You’re afraid that if I learn the truth of things, if you confess the source of our alienation and my pain, I’ll leave you, and you’ll be truly alone.”

The Nightmare scoffed. “Arrogant foal, do you really think—“

Twilight gave it a harsh glare as she continued. “That’s what Guilt is doing—trying to make me abandon you. Because in your mind, you think you deserve to be abandoned. It would be something like punishment for what you’ve done…but in a petty way, it would be a comfort for you if I ran from you. That would be a reflection of weakness on my part, and in playing into your guilt, I’d provide you the comfort at least of you not having to see my face as you confess. You’d always be able to say, in the smallest part of your mind: In the end, Twilight was frightened off by how big being involved with me was, she never really understood. And you could set and be done with things—running from the pain, leaving me behind in the distant past.

“Princess, if you have ever let yourself trust me implicitly, do it now! Both of us have been in terrible pain—we both still are. But please, stop indulging your guilt! You’re doing nothing but giving it power to hurt you, just as letting my fear control me made the distance I felt worse and worse! I know you think you deserve to be abandoned for whatever it is you’ve done, but in the end all that will do is leave you alone again. Do you really think the pain won’t be worse, when you return, leaving all this unresolved?”

The Nightmare stumbled on the steps up to the dais, making Twilight’s confident grin grow wry and mocking for just a second. Guilt’s face screwed up in white-hot rage, its sunken eyes flaring with unimaginable fury, mane flaring bright. Twilight was forced to pause and flinch from the sudden burst of heat; it was like her face had been suddenly forced into a furnace. She raised her voice above the roar of heat.

“Let me come to you, Princess! There must be a way! Trust me! Let me share the ultimate magic of friendship with you—not to bring you mere comfort or to show you affection, but the true magic, that gives you the power to bear another pony’s pain with them! I will hear you out, if you’ll trust me, and I hope you’ll do the same for me! But I will not abandon you, no matter what! I love you!” Twilight was all but screaming now, trying to overpower the crackling, deep roar of insane heat and magical power filling the air.

Great pillars of sunstuff, spiked and horrible like brambles, erupted around the Nightmare, which was now howling with rage and fear. Twilight’s poise faltered for only a second as the awesome display of power filled her vision with flaring, blinding light. Guilt turned its head, grinning terribly down at Twilight, who stared back at it with as much determination as she could. The heat pressed down on her, making her blink and shy backwards.

“Please, Princess! Let me speak with you, even if it is the last time!”

With a howl of desperate fury, the Nightmare sent the horrible pillars of plasma surging down at Twilight Sparkle, who finally gave in to the oppressive heat and light, closing her eyes and turning her head away as doom descended onto her. But she would finish her letter, no matter what.

“With love, I remain your Faithful Student,” she screamed, defiance and courage thundering in her words, “Twilight Sparkle!”

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stop.

“Bring her here.”

It wasn’t a whisper, or a murmur, so much as a breath; a sound so quiet it seemed to add to the silence rather than break it.

The Sun smiled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Bring her here!” Celestia gasped. Tears rolled freely down her face, and her voice was strangled by the thickness in her throat.

“Oh, well…” the Sun said, lazily. “If that’s what you want.”

Celestia turned to the Sun, frowning at the smug smile on the Sun’s face. “Wasn’t that what you wanted me to do, this whole time?”

“Not exactly, Celestia,” the Sun said. She stared down at the princess, a mocking smile spread across her face.  “But close. No, I want to hear you admit—here, in this place, where admitting things has meaning—that any one of those doors in your mind could have lead here. All Twilight’s pain and fear and suffering, all the terrible things she endured for you, the things that you professed to be so frightened and pained by—she didn’t have to go through any of it. You could have spared her the pain and brought her here, even before I got free.”

Celestia’s face screwed up, as if she had just put something foul in her mouth and was being forced to chew and swallow it down. She looked away from the Sun, her eyes guilty and pained.

“Don’t turn away from me,” the Sun snarled. She reached out with a hoof, taking Celestia’s head into her iron control once again and drawing the princess’ suddenly terrified gaze to her own. “Not now. Not after everything you’ve done, not if you want me to bring Twilight Sparkle to you. Look me in the eye and admit that you are a selfish, venal coward who deserves every second of pain she gets.”

The two were held in this tableau for some time, eyes locked on each other’s.

Then Celestia blinked. A change came over her; terror and pain seemed to abate—not fade, just fall into the background, as she came to a decision.

“Let go of me, please,” Celestia said, calmly. The Sun let her hoof fall away, sighing heavily, and stepped back to allow the princess to rise, holding her in a contemptuous glare. Celestia looked at the Sun firmly, though reluctance and sorrow were obvious on her face. “I admit these things.”

“What things?” the Sun snapped.

“I admit to being a coward,” Celestia said, obviously forcing the confession from herself. “I admit to letting my mind torture Twilight Sparkle because I could not bring myself to face her. I admit that I hoped against hope that Twilight would give up…” She trailed off, looking uneasy.

“Go on.”

The princess gave the Sun a sullen glare for a moment, then cleared her throat and continued. “Bring Twilight to me, so that we can speak one last time. And then I will willingly surrender myself to whatever punishment you desire.”

“And you’ll tell her everything?”

“Everything.”

The Sun frowned. “Swear it.”

“As I am Celestia, Princess of the Sun,” Celestia recited, her face heavy with guilty discomfort at this necessity, “I swear that I shall speak the truth, whole and complete, to Twilight Sparkle, to your satisfaction.”

At this, the Sun smiled viciously. “Don’t think I’m doing you a favor bringing her here, Celestia. No, no…your punishment begins with her.”

Celestia actually managed to raise a suspicious eyebrow to this statement. “Oh?”

“Indeed,” the Sun said, her smile growing wide and cruel. “Perhaps Twilight won’t find it in herself to forgive you for the things you’ve done. Maybe she will tear the living heart from your chest and eat it in front of you, curse your name and leave you to eternity, alone, as you deserve to be for the immensity of your arrogance.” An idle thought seemed to strike the Sun. “That would please me, I think; I could do with somepony taking my side in all this.”

“I suspect she will…feel for you, when she learns the truth,” Celestia muttered, looking more uncomfortable than ever, but her voice betrayed hope that even so, Twilight would have room left in her heart for her teacher.

The Sun gave Celestia a patronizing smile. “She is a very generous soul, isn’t she…” She began prowling around the princess in a lazy circle. “But even if she does find it in herself to forgive you, to understand…this will be the last time you see her. No matter what happens, you will be saying good-bye to your beloved student. No tricks. No negotiations. And neither of you are powerful enough to stop me doing exactly as I please.”

“I understand that,” Celestia said, face pained.

“Your suffering begins now, Celestia,” the Sun said, putting on an ugly self-righteousness. “Either your fears will be justified…or you will begin to pay the price for your misdeeds, as your faithful student is taken from you forever.”

Celestia said nothing; she just closed her eyes and shook very gently, taking deep breaths. The Sun watched her, for a time.

“You just can’t deal with things not going right, can you,” the Sun said, eventually.

Celestia’s eyes opened wide, and she looked up at the Sun in shock. There had been…a hint of sympathy in its voice. Tenderness, almost. The Sun was regarding Celestia with a firm and disapproving expression, but her head was turned slightly away as she eyed the princess carefully, in an almost bashful pose.

“I—“ Celestia began.

“Well, I'd better get going,” the Sun declared, and spread her wings.

Twilight felt the approaching heat…and trusted Celestia. Trusted herself to have been right, trusted the risks she had taken, believed. No matter how certain she was, intellectually, now was the final test of her strength.

She closed her eyes and stood firm, accepting Celestia’s decision, whatever it was…

The fiery wrath spilled over her with all the furious destructive power of a warm summer breeze. Twilight’s body failed to be crushed under the gentle pressure, just as her skin and viscera remained uncooked, and her hair and coat did not burst into flames. Twilight opened her eyes to see the trembling form of the Nightmare, now furiously trying to summon anything with which she might once again lash out at the unicorn who stood calmly before it.

The Great Hall of Canterlot was restored to its original beauty and majesty, pillars standing proud and windows gleaming in the amber light of a serene and peaceful sunset. The colors of the rosace behind the renewed Twin Thrones burned bright as gemstones. The Nightmare seemed small and wretched against this display of the majesty, where it had once seemed so huge and powerful amongst the ruins it had created.

“You only have as much power as she gives you,” Twilight said, calmly watching the creature flail. “I don’t know why I was even worried for a second, here at the end…”

The Nightmare looked down on Twilight with fury in its eyes. “It doesn’t matter. None of it does. Celestia will be taken from you by time, and you from her. I never really die away.”

Twilight stepped forward, smiling just a little at the creature’s expression of sudden fear as she did so. She mounted the dais, wincing slightly at the pain in her rear leg as she did so. The Nightmare backed away from her, stumbling over Celestia’s throne as it did so.

“What is this—“ it hissed.

Twilight sighed. “Guilt is anger at the self,” she said. The words appeared in a chunk in her mind; it was probably a quote from something she’d read once upon a time. The familiar sensation of her mind gently tossing up information for her was a comfort after the constant panic of the last few days. Months. She was still worried, of course, but…

“So?” the Nightmare spat, leaning away from her wretchedly.

She didn’t know why this seemed important, but Twilight suddenly leapt forward and wrapped her forelegs around the creature’s neck, ignoring its sudden curses of terrified indignation. Its flaming mane felt no more hot than holding a hoof over a campfire. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Sorry?”

“Yes,” Twilight said, letting go of the creature. “It must be very hard, being Guilt.”

The Nightmare regarded her quizzically, a strange half-smile of incredulous amusement threatening to bloom on its face. “You yourself pointed out that I am not a being, just an image. A phantom, an abstraction of an emotion, so your mind could understand what it was being presented by Celestia’s mind.”

Twilight looked up at it seriously. “Still.”

“I do not understand what you are trying to do, Twilight Sparkle,” the Nightmare said, quickly, in haughtily tones. “You know very well that I cannot.”

Twilight nodded, but gave it a sympathetic smile in any case.

“But…” the Nightmare said, its voice softening into a guilty tone of admission. “I did…enjoy… sitting with you, for that short time.”

“I know you did.” Despite everything, tears threatened Twilight’s eyes as she looked at the proud expression on the terrifying creature that had so recently threatened her with oblivion. “It’s why you had to try to hurt me and push me away—that’s guilt, right? You can’t help but want the thing that pains you nearby, but it just makes the pain worse. So you are compelled to lash out. I know how much a desperate conflict inside you hurts.”

If the Nightmare had anything to say on this topic, it kept it to itself, instead raising its head to indicate the far doors to the Hall. “It seems that your faith has been rewarded…Faithful Student.” And as the sound of Twilight’s true name passed its lips, the Nightmare faded, holding Twilight’s gaze until there were no eyes to see.

Twilight turned and looked at the great arched doors, which were thrown wide open, framing the form of Princess Celestia.

“Princess?” Twilight asked, cautiously. She trotted down from the dais, limbs burning.

The white figure grinned, and turned, fleeing out into the Gardens.

“Hey!” Twilight shouted, all suspicion cast aside by indignation. Despite the pain, and a slight limp, she worked herself into a gallop and chased after the vanishing form of Celestia.

They ducked and bobbed through the maze of hedgerows, Twilight turning corners to see a flash of a white flank vanish around the next, or leapt through a row of bushes only to see white wings folding on the other side of the next set. A hint of faded tail, a little titter of laughter... little hints of her quarry drove the unicorn forward as she moved, ignoring her body’s protests.

Finally she rounded a bend, turning on her wounded leg in a way that summoned a fiery lance of pain. She grunted and ignored it, willing her knee to stay firm despite the lingering weakness, because there at the end of the hall of topiary sat Celestia, before an ornamental wire gate—the entrance to the Gardens of the Muses. Inside the gate, though, was a hazy vision of a distant seashore.

The alicorn gave Twilight a sly little grin, raising her eyebrows a couple times suggestively, and stepped through.

Heedless of the danger, Twilight darted forward, her face set with determination, and vanished into the portal.

Luna looked down at Twilight and Celestia, eyes widening. Fluttershy looked up at her from where she had a hoof placed over Twilight’s chest, shaking her head miserably as a tremendous sadness welled up in her eyes.

“Princess…” Applejack said, the only pony who could find her voice.

Luna hung her head. “They’re…gone,” she said, voice hollow.

Twilight came to a halt and stared.

The location seemed familiar, for some reason; it was a rocky seaside on the border of a forest. There was only a little beachfront; most of the shoreline were cliffs of a pale stone that gleamed fiery red-golden in the fading sunlight.

A gentle, cool breeze drifted through the trees, causing them to whisper calming words and peace directly to Twilight’s heart, despite her knowledge that it was just the sound of wind amongst supple, broad leaves.

But what occupied Twilight’s attention was the small table set in a little clearing near a cliff edge. It was set for tea, with little reclining pillows for two ponies to lie on as they shared the contents of the fancy silver kettle. Sitting on one pillow was Princess Celestia, wearing a black cloak trimmed in gold; no longer faded or wasted, but instead as hale and vital as Twilight had ever seen her. She even radiated a faint, pale light in the fading sun. Her expression was troubled and heavy with care, her eyes looking up at Twilight reluctantly.

…and behind her stood an identical copy, wearing a white cloak, also trimmed in gold. This Celestia was grinning broadly with what appeared to be genuine pleasure.

The Celestia on the pillow stirred, and with an almost imperceptibly brief moment of hesitation, spoke:

“Hello...my Faithful Student.”