//------------------------------// // Thirty-Two // Story: The Moon Also Rises // by Nicroburst //------------------------------// Is it truly so strange, that she is loved for strong words, and stronger actions, while I am revered for empathy? The people do not look for me on the streets, nor come running when I call. It is a fear, of kind. I hold myself aloof, and become abstract, more a concept than a ruler. It would be so much simpler to simply be one of them. But it is not darkness that we ponies fear, so much as shadow. Thirty-Two RAINBOW LANDED GENTLY, closing the window behind her. Stifling a yawn, she trotted downstairs, checking various rooms for Twilight, forcibly ignoring the siren call of the bed that she knew waited just down the hall. She had expected, but she hadn’t quite been ready for the massive wave of exhaustion that hit immediately following her time-jump. She hadn’t seemed that tired, in her memory, and she had done her best to maintain that appearance—sitting, rather than collapsing on the ground, turning a fatigued sway into a neat sidestep, and so on. It cost her quite a bit to actually watch her past self succeed, though it was unquestionably worth it. The Sonic Rainboom was spectacular. She’d always known that, but she’d never seen it from a distance, never seen it in the moment of its birth. The concentric wave of rainbow light spread across the sky and dissipated in an instant, its symmetry disrupted by her second pass. Rainbow grinned, lying down on the ground with her face upturned, eagerly awaiting what came next. The second barrier was less amazing. She . . . hadn’t really known what to expect here. It wasn’t so much a physical barrier as it was a mental one, a wall that halted her growing speed, as if she had run into a massive wake, rippling through the air to oppose her. Passing it did not spawn a rainbow contrail, or a giant explosion. Instead, she stretched, her body growing thin, reaching forward, and gaining a burst of acceleration. But those were just the sideshows. Rainbow was intimate with the techniques displayed above her, had hours of experience in the midst of that storm of power. Even down here, it lashed at her, tiny sparks of lightning arcing through the air, spontaneously spawned by the inefficiencies, the loss in her translation of emotion to speed. It was increasing, each spark drawing more pain, coming more frequently. Above, she circled the field twice, thrice, every second. And then there it was: a void, a . . . gap in the air, developing around her wings. It spread, slowly at first, inching up her feathers. Already pumping her wings as fast as she could, she somehow leapt forward, sweeping the void down to her tail, and then up, wrapping it around her head, and then she was gone. Rainbow’s jaw dropped, tiredness forgotten, and she jumped to her hooves. It looked as if the world itself had swallowed her. The wake hit her a moment later, bowling her completely over. She was unconscious before she hit the ground. When she came to, the sun had set. She stood, stretching, and by the light of the moon found the mountain of Canterlot in the distance. She sighed, flexing her wings—still sore, still waking up—and took to the air. She could have spent the night here, it would be a simple matter to round up a few clouds to form a makeshift bed, but Twilight might worry. Besides, Rainbow could admit to herself that the only thing more appealing than sleep at the moment was the desire, intense, demanding, to tell everypony all about this. After all, what was the point in doing the impossible if you couldn’t boast outrageously about it? So she flew, not particularly fast, towards Canterlot. She occupied herself with idle daydreams, reliving memories of performances with the Wonderbolts, of her pavilion of tricks that she’d developed, and the pantheon that the team had taught her. Each with one minor addition, a small change—she quirked a lip—so small nopony would even really notice. Another Rainbow Dash, brought around by a time loop, to perform in the same show twice. It had been a point of not-inconsiderable annoyance to realise that even from her earliest days, Rainbow had completely eclipsed the Wonderbolts. They had been her dream for so long, and she hadn’t wanted to give that up. Even so, it took time to come to terms with the simple fact that they had waited too long to pick her up, and that she’d already surpassed them. So the burgeoning realisation about how she might turn this new skill to her benefit captured her imagination. She imagined the old classics, doubled—a Buccaneer Blaze inside of a whirlwind, spinning clouds creating a spontaneous race-course, even the Sonic Rainboom used as an accent to her double’s acrobatics. She imagined herself, twice, battling for dominance in the sky, perfectly matched, completely in sync. That daydream slipped from her grasp unfinished, the tricks half-formed, the choreography half-pictured, as daydreams are wont to do. It was replaced with something decidedly raunchier, and infinitely more entertaining. Rainbow’s grin broke into a full-on leer, and she gave her thoughts voice, relishing her temporary isolation. “Oh, oh ho ho, yes, oh yes I can do that, can’t I. Oh, Twilight’s just going to love this.” But imagination aside, the journey back proved long and uneventful, and Rainbow’s exhaustion quickly caught up with her. By the time she reached the Agency, she was on the brink of falling over, and she found it more and more difficult to justify her desire to see somepony. The allure of her bed was almost irresistible. Of course, it would transpire that both Twilight and Rarity were fast asleep themselves, curled up together in the last room Rainbow checked. With a snort, Rainbow stepped up, rolled Rarity over, and clambered under the blankets, working her way in to Twilight’s side. She heard the tiny snore—faint, almost inaudible, but a snore nonetheless—emerge from Rarity’s half-open muzzle. Rainbow didn’t take note of this priceless blackmail knowledge, as she was asleep within moments of her head hitting the pillow. This time, she woke to see Twilight nestled in against her chest, her brow furrowed. Rarity had disappeared, likely in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, or tending to some other chore she’d invented so that she could claim that the house was presentable. Rainbow yawned, cracking her neck, and offered Twilight a light smile. “Hey, Twi’,” she said. “What’cha thinking about?” Twilight let the glow around her horn drop, and her brow relax, tilting her face up to meet Rainbow’s gaze. “Nothing,” she said, brushing her muzzle against Rainbow’s. “I’ve missed you, lately.” Rainbow tightened her legs, pulling Twilight in close. “Yeah. Luna’s had me working pretty hard.” Twilight bit her lip. “You do that yourself.” “I’m sorry.” “No, no, it’s okay. I know what it’s like to be driven.” Rainbow caught her in another kiss, a real kiss, deep and long. Twilight was right. It had been far too long since they’d slowed down, had some time to just relax with one another. “I bet,” she said, as she pulled back. “How’d it go?” Rainbow wanted to tease her, wanted to hold back the news as long as she could, wanted to hint and dangle and suggest. But she couldn’t fight down her wide smile from spreading, her eyes from sparkling, or her breath from catching. She didn’t have to say anything, Twilight knew immediately, and sprang upright. “You did it!” “Well,” Rainbow yawned, rolling onto her back and bringing her forehooves up behind her head, “yeah.” Twilight was trembling, as if she was about to begin bouncing up and down on the bed. “You time-travelled! What was it like? How far did you go? Wait, past or future? Oh, I have-“ Rainbow stopped her mid-rant. “Why don’t I just show you?” she said. Twilight nodded, bringing her gaze forward to meet Rainbow’s. Rainbow felt Twilight’s familiar intrusion, felt her presence appear, their minds touching with just a tinge of awkwardness, as old friends meeting after years apart. She saw her memories of the past week blur through her mind, each detail simultaneously distinct and blurred. And then Twilight sat back, mouth agape, and Rainbow just smirked. “Well, Twi’,” she said, taking advantage of recovering first. “Was it everything you’d ever hoped?” Twilight absently threw a pillow at her, her magic sputtering but carrying no less force. Rainbow flew clear off the bed, hitting the floor with a yelp more playful than hurt. Twilight paid no mind, simply standing where she was, frozen in thought. It was not an uncommon stance for her, and Rainbow paid it no mind. Standing, she walked over and bumped Twilight’s flank. Twilight shook herself, flashing Rainbow a grin. "Congratulations," she said nuzzling Rainbow, and letting the word carry weight, then trotted from the room, calling out for Rarity. Rainbow, smiling, followed, ignoring the rumble of her stomach. Her muscles still felt a little sore, likely still healing from her exertions yesterday, but overall . . . she felt fine: content, lacking any particular surge of passion, warm, from bed, from Twilight’s embrace, and from her success: at peace. Rarity was, indeed, in the kitchen, just now bringing three bowls of oats to the table. Twilight locked eyes with her, held her still for a few moments. The bowls crashed to the floor, spilling their contents, and then Rarity turned to Rainbow, sporting a set of gleaming eyes and a massive grin. “You got it so fast, too,” she said, inclining her head. Rainbow just smirked, though Twilight couldn’t hold back a chuckle as she levitated the broken bowls. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised,” Rarity concluded. “Very well, then. Not that I don’t enjoy your company, Twilight, Rainbow, but this little period of domesticity was getting somewhat passé. Shall we depart?” “Can you see where we’re going?” Rainbow asked. “Oh yes, dear. A few days ago, even.” It was Rarity’s turn to smirk, tossing her mane with a hoof. “Nothing to it.” “I’m sure,” Rainbow said. “I was kinda hoping we could postpone for a while. I mean, there’s no rush, right?” “I beg to differ,” Rarity said. Twilight turned from the sink to frown at Rainbow, evidently agreeing with Rarity. “This is something the Princess has personally requested, after all.” “And it’s important,” Twilight said. “It’s all connected. Shining’s . . . everything, I just haven’t put it all together yet.” “And I doubt Princess Luna’s been able to either,” Rarity said. Rainbow waved a hoof. “It’s time travel. It doesn’t matter when we leave.” “It’s the principle,” Rarity said, filling three new bowls from the sack. “It doesn’t have to matter.” “Fine, fine,” Rainbow said, glancing away. “Tomorrow, then. I’m still pretty beat.” “Perfect,” Rarity assured her. “Now, shall we eat?” They fell to with gusto, the fare no less satisfying for its simplicity. Finishing last—she was hungry, okay?—Rainbow found herself stuck with the washing up, while Rarity pulled Twilight aside, and removed Luna’s spell. Evidently, Twilight’s recovery had progressed far enough to warrant that, though to Rainbow the only development had been her throwing a pillow, and levitating around some shards of china. Still, Twilight’s gratitude brought warmth to her chest and cheeks, and when Twilight proposed a picnic, she fell in without complaint. Canterlot sported some fantastic gardens for a city on the side of a mountain, Rainbow had to admit. Even if they were artificial, with plants of all kind and colour brought in from all across Equestria, the series of parks created their own ambience, a serenity set outside of the usual Canterlot bustle. It was not hard to relax, and Rainbow almost immediately found herself dozing under the sun, Twilight beside her with a novel while Rarity sketched idly. From there, they found lunch at a café, and roamed Canterlot, staying close to the upper class markets and away from the slums. This was not a day for memories. Rarity found a few designs she simple had to have, and Rainbow was convinced to get a dark blue ensemble that she had foolishly admitted looked alright. Twilight even managed to drag everypony into a museum for an hour or so. The day passed peacefully, offering neither particular trouble nor excessive joy, and all too quickly it was gone. Rainbow had wanted to stay up late, just talking. Twilight, however, had none of it, hiding herself away in her own thoughts until she passed into unconsciousness. Rainbow, lying beside her in their bed, lost track of how long she’d gazing at the back of Twilight’s head. “I’m . . .” she began, half-heartedly, searching for the words she wanted to say. Somehow, they were no easier here, now, than they had been when Twilight was awake. “I wanted to tell you everything. I guess you already know, from the head thing you do, but . . . “ Rainbow shut her eyes. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Twi’,” she shook her head, “I guess it’ll have to wait, huh?” Rainbow leaned forward, planted a soft kiss on Twilight’s head. “I love you, egghead,” she whispered. “And I’m coming back. I promise.” *** Twilight opened the door slowly, both fearing and submitting to the promise the room held. Inside, as she cast her gaze over sterile white walls, intricate machinery and medical devices, scraps of paper with vital information, and plastic, plastic everywhere, Trixie waited. This meeting was important to her, and not just for the obvious reasons. Twilight had had plenty of time to think, and she hadn’t wasted it, again and again running through her actions—from her days in Ponyville’s library, reacting to an abrasive show-pony, to her brother’s murder, and her persecution of his murderer. She understood, or she thought she did. She would never be able to forgive Trixie. That much was clear, immutable, really. But she didn’t hate her. She’d felt the strength of the fear that had gripped her. Trixie had believed, almost consciously, that Boundless held her will, that she no longer has any agency in her own life. She’d been reduced to a tool. And that simple truth inspired in Twilight a deep sorrow, rather than rage. She could no more rage against Trixie’s weakness than she could her own, for they were tied up with her moral beliefs, with the fundamental tenants that she cherished. Had Trixie the power to refuse Boundless, she would have already been a monster. That did not do away with her personal failings. Once again she had fallen for the trap of maturity, the overconfidence that accompanied all pioneers. She had been an authority, at the forefront of her field, for too long. The assumption of knowledge, of capability, had blinded her, first, to the threat, and second, to the nature of her own response. At the time, she couldn’t have known better—and she was far too distraught to consider the ramifications. She’d simply acted, trusting without thought. She thought back to that moment beside the Lethe, where she’d caught the two murderers fleeing Canterlot. They’d been helpless before her, unable to put up even the semblance of a fight. She’d held Trixie, and, fully in the grip of her grief, forced on her all the emotion Twilight could not bear to contain. She’d wanted to make the mare hurt, hurt in a way far more deep than any physical retribution. She’d justified that under the mantle of understanding. She’d framed the emotional torture as an exchange, ripping from Trixie the knowledge of murder, and everything she’d associated with it. That, to Twilight, betrayed a failing far more insidious than any torture. She knew the moral bankruptcy that possessed Boundless, she’d felt the indifference that overtook Trixie, and she’d forced herself onto it. She’d raped Trixie, mentally, morally. Enslaved her just as wholly as Boundless. The memory of it made her sick. She’d heard Nightmare Moon’s message to Luna. She’d seen the effects of the Veil—on Luna’s memories, on Boundless’ morality. The bigger picture was beginning to emerge, and it was ugly beyond belief. Struggle as she may, Twilight could not entirely shove away the thought of her mind enslaved, burying it under theory and thought and experimentation. For now, for this meeting, it was enough for her to remain honest. She’d made a promise that she had yet to fulfil, and an apology to accompany it. The room was cold—somepony must have left a window open. Twilight closed it before stepping over, beside the bed. Trixie was awake, eyes following her, and at her approach she propped herself up. “Twilight,” Trixie said. “Hello, Trixie,” Twilight said. “How are you feeling?” Trixie waved a hoof in the air. “Well enough. I expect to be discharged any day now.” “I’m glad.” “Really?” Twilight dropped her head. “Yes,” she said, “and no.” “I get it,” Trixie said. Twilight considered that statement for some time. Then, slowly nodding, she bit her lip. “I expect you do.” “Twilight . . .” Trixie shook her head. “Rainbow hit you hard. Like, really hard.” “I’m fine,” Twilight said, gesturing uselessly to her body. “Just magical exhaustion.” “No, it was more than that. You were enraged. No, more than that. You were consumed, you-“ “I . . .” Twilight stomped a hoof in exasperation. “I owe you a proper explanation, and you’re going to get it. Just, for now, just trust me, okay? The anger . . . it’s passed.” “I can see that.” “First . . . I need to apologise.” Twilight closed her eyes, working her jaw. Unbidden, the image of Trixie standing over her brother, azure knife held firmly against his throat, rose, swirling out of the darkness. She swallowed, hard. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took you and, and I broke you. I . . . oh, Celestia. Why can’t I . . .” she collapsed forward, head landing in Trixie’s lap, sobs wracking her body. “Shh,” Trixie said, hoof rubbing Twilight’s back. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve done nothing wrong, Twilight, nothing at all. I’m the one who should be apologising. For my fear, for my doubt, for all the pain I’ve caused. I wish I’d never come into your life.” Twilight clung to her, not trusting herself to open her mouth. Minutes passed like that, until the spasms receded, and she straightened up, wiping her eyes. “I know how hard your life’s been, Trixie,” Twilight said. “I’ve . . . seen it, through your eyes. I don’t blame you for that, or for where it led you. Nothing you did ever gave me the right to do what I did.” Trixie shook her head sadly. “What are you talking about?” “I changed you,” Twilight said. “When I pressed my grief on you, I imparted empathy, too, mine, not yours, so that you felt as I did. It was no different from indoctrination.” “I know.” “I . . . what?” “Twilight, I’ve always known that. I was grateful for it. A . . . after, before you found me, I was a monster. I knew I should be feeling something, but it just wasn’t there. I’ve never felt so hollow, so empty. I couldn’t stand it.” Trixie smiled. “And then, you were there, in my mind, showing me how to feel. And I did. Thank you.” “But I raped you,” Twilight said softly, staring at the sheets on the bed. “I don’t see it that way. I think you gave me a gift. I think you gave me something precious.” Trixie gave a little laugh, tossing her head. “Besides. If I were simply you, now, if I operated with your moral compass, would I not be agreeing with you now?” Twilight took a deep breath. “And the barrier you broke through?” “The Veil,” Trixie said. She turned her gave to the window, clasping her hooves before her. “It’s served us well, hasn’t it? A thousand years, Twilight, without murder. Without the kind of pain you’re going through. Isn’t that worth something?” “I’m not sure. I haven’t decided yet.” Twilight looked up, catching Trixie’s gaze. “And consider this. If it is a spell, if it is a construct that can be broken, then it must have been made. Who do you suppose was its Creator?” *** Rarity fell through the air, screaming. A pale blue magical field sparked to life and sputtered out of existence moments later as she tried frantically to halt their descent. She could barely hear herself, could barely hear the rush of the wind, or feel the air tearing at her fur. Rainbow hung limp in her hooves, unresponsive, essentially comatose. Below them, the ground rushed up. Rainbow groaned, trying to roll herself over. Rarity pummelled her chest, shrieked in her ear. Without wings, they were going to die here. From all around came a thunderous crash, louder, more demanding, more physical than any that had come before. Rainbow’s eyes shot open, her body reflexively jerking. Rarity fell still. For the first time, the two looked away from their immediate doom, and at the environment into which they had arrived. Not two hundred metres to the south, a stormwall loomed, save to describe it as such was understated to the point of ridiculousness. Black cloud dominated the sky, completely obscuring the sun, rendering the whole world cast in shades of grey. Underneath, within a wall of water, illuminated only by the near-constant streaks of multi-hued lightning, leaping about on wind travelling so fast it made a high-pitched whine, were boulders churning around as if pebbles caught in the midst of a blender. Water froze straight from the air, blades of ice forming from nothing to sweep about at unimaginable speed. Tornadoes, sweeping forward, ate into the ground, tearing up dirt and rock and plant alike, casting them into the swirling maelstrom above. Rarity swept her gaze east, then west, searching in vain for the storm’s end. It reached as far as the eye could see, maintaining its fury to the horizon and beyond. This storm, it seemed to her, was not one that rolled over the world, expending its energy on an unflinching rock, but one that enveloped the world, surrounding it and destroying it utterly. Rainbow was gibbering, eyes fixed firmly on the approaching doom. Then she caught sight of something else. Centred before her, almost invisible against the darkness of the storm—almost swallowed whole by it—a tiny figure hovered, back turned, mane flowing, shielding her from the oncoming onslaught. Rarity saw the stormfront buckle; bulge outwards in its race forward on either side of the figure, but here, under the stalwart argent of its power, there was only a seething mass, writhing in impotent fury. Abruptly, Rarity recalled the fact that they were still falling. Glancing downwards, she began working her horn, her gut clenching, her heart lurching in her chest. The ground rushed up at them, almost immediately surpassing the storm in importance. Rarity clutched at Rainbow, closed her eyes. There was nothing she could do. But there was no impact. Instead, surrounded by a dark magic, nearly black, they were lowered to the ground, roughly, dropped from a few feet so that they collapsed into a pile. A unicorn, sprinting over to them, yanked Rainbow up, slapped her in the face. “What the hell were you thinking, Chaser?” “Wha-“ Rainbow murmured. Her body was limp. “We’ve no time for this! Help us, or get lost!” He turned south, sprinting straight towards the storm. In moments, he was there, and was immediately swept up into the turmoil, his form disappearing into the dark. “He just . . . he,” Rarity managed, hyperventilating. “I . . . What’s going on, Rainbow? Where in Equestria are we?!” The world was roaring, its noise dulling her shrill voice to nothing more than a buzz, even in her own ears. “I don’t know,” Rainbow said, collapsing onto her back. “That was . . . you saw her, Rainbow?” Rarity said, staring up through the tree-line. From the ground, the oncoming storm seemed somehow even more massive, even more eternal. As if infinity could be surpassed. “Rainbow?” Rainbow was asleep. Unbelievable. Rarity grabbed at her mane, pulling it down about her face. She could hardly leave her here, nor could she offer Rainbow any kind of shelter from the storm. Not for the first time, Rarity wished for the magical ability of Twilight: the mobility offered therein had proven itself invaluable time and time again. Rarity glanced back up. She couldn’t tell if the storm had gotten any closer, she could barely tell if it was moving at all. It was simply too massive, too awe-inspiringly large. But the moon-silver shield covering them held firm and the figure in the centre of it remained unwavering. She was not mistaken. That figure was not Princess Luna. Rarity had seen Princess Luna, seen Nightmare Moon, and even seen Princess Luna wearing the regalia of that hated villain. She bit her lip, eyes tracing the black metal that adorned that figure—illuminated by flashes of staccato lightning and the argent light of Nightmare Moon’s own power. Reflected there, Rarity saw reptilian eyes and fanged teeth. That was Nightmare Moon. Abruptly, she spun around. The field they were in was empty, devoid of all life. But the skies above were teeming with pegasi, hundreds if not thousands gathered behind Nightmare Moon’s banner, gathered in a strange formation stretching outwards. They could not hold the storm back—it bent around them, closing its jaws on the land’s defenders, but they had not broken yet. And above them still, the stars whispered promises with nebulous light, lending heart and hope. But the moon itself, hanging low over the earth, was afire. Puissance poured from it, a torrential amount of power streaming down from the heavens to meet its mistress: a waterfall of power. Rarity blinked, and it was gone, blinked again and saw but a shadow of it, but she knew it occurred. A celestial bond, lending strength in time of need, the Moon itself took part in Equestria’s defence. And still the storm came. Moment by moment, minute by minute, the stormwall advanced, and forced Nightmare Moon back. Boulders the size of buildings slammed into her, dissolved into dust as they did so. Jagged shards of ice spun towards her, sublimated as they approached. Lightning flashed out, hundreds of bolts a second, each as thick as a tree-trunk, as white-hot as any furnace, only to be caught and grounded, forming a catastrophically devastating lightning vane, carving a path of Nightmare Moon’s retreat into the ground. Eventually, the storm would catch them. Rarity watched that moment approach, her mouth agape and her pulse hammering in her veins. Still, she didn’t move. Rainbow snored loudly at her side. Move Her legs trembled. Her breath had gotten lost somewhere in her throat. You have to move! The expressions on the faces of the pegasi nearby grew strained; their wing beats less disciplined, their formation wavering. They dropped like flies to the storm’s fury, falling in droves as their magic failed. Nightmare Moon cast one, frantic glance over her shoulder, and, in a moment set outside of time, Rarity saw abject despair. The storm broke free, rushing north with a crackling, burning, tearing scream of exultation. It swallowed Nightmare Moon entire. Move! And then, with a tumultuous crash that obliterated all other sound, another presence arrived. Streaking from the north, a meteoric strike, the Sun’s Hammer, as blindingly bright and furiously radiant as any noon Sun, Celestia joined the battle. She hit with tremendous impact, all the Sun’s fury following in her wake to pile into the gap she created, drove forward as a wedge of golden power into the storm’s darkness. Nightmare Moon gave way, her head spinning about to spot her sister, and give—was that a smile?!—and pulled back, sweeping around to collect pegasi from their aerial formation. Celestia disappeared into the storm, her glow the only trace of her passage. Where it touched, the storm calmed, slowed down, as if her mere presence instilled some kind of peace upon it. As Rarity watched, still frozen on the cold ground—grass prickling against her legs and cold air freezing in her lungs—the Sun’s warmth spread, giving light to more and more of the storm. The world seemed to gain colour, the rays of the dawn spreading not just warmth but life . . . It was beautiful, and terrible, and majestic, a display unrivalled by any Rarity had seen before. It was not over. Nightmare Moon marshalled her forces, concentrated them behind her, and around the pocket of calm Celestia had imposed upon the tumult. Then she dove in, chasing after her sister, wielding the argent blaze of the Moon as a spear. There was a period of silence. And then the Earth shook, and the storm trembled, and the Sun burst forth, rising over the horizon to meet the Moon in the skies above. Rarity hissed, turning away and pressing her hooves over her eyes, scrabbling to cover her ears against the noise. Blazing down from the heavens, incarnate fury and passion struck the Earth somewhere to the south, and the storm fell away, simply stopped where it was, yielding its hold on the elements, and began to dissipate. Rock rained on the ground, rain and ice and snow poured down in a shower so thick it might have been a river, clouds drifted apart, allowing more and more pillars of light, gold flecked with silver, to shine through. Rainbow groaned, turning over. Rarity waited, holding herself prone until the worst of the earthquake subsided. Then she glanced at Rainbow, checked her over for injury. Miraculously, the pegasus had escaped largely unharmed, sustaining mere scrapes. Of the black unicorn that had saved them, there was no sign. The pegasi were scouring the ground for their comrades, locating those few—so few!—injured and bearing them away. There were far, far too many bodies passed over, to Rarity’s horror, unicorns and earth ponies numbering just as many as pegasi, though she hadn’t seen them before. They must have been fighting from inside, she thought, suppressing a shudder. There was no way of knowing what that hell must have been like. She poked Rainbow, tried to hoist her up, and then resorted to levitation. It wasn’t long before a pair of pegasi approached, took Rainbow from her, and then lifted her in turn, bearing her away, north, to some unknown destination. From the air, she could see the aftermath in more detail. The plains to the south, back where the storm was breaking up, where Celestia and Nightmare Moon still fought, though their army was retreating, there was only a layer of debris, indiscriminately scattered over everything. Rocks, trees, mounds of dirt, sand, water accumulating in pools . . . and bodies: thousands of bodies, lying unmoving where they had fallen. The air came fresh and sweet and clean, and Rarity retched as the pegasi bearing her squeezed her tight. She couldn’t think clearly—she was still in shock, she knew, still coming down from the surge of adrenaline and the sheer vividness of the experience—and she couldn’t shake a single question, circling around and around in her mind. A question to which she had no answer, for it did not appear in any history of Equestria she’d heard of. What in Tartarus was that? The battle wasn’t done yet. Still, remnants of the storm persisted, swirling together in an attempt to resist the power splitting it apart. Still, the twin alicorns of Equestria drove their might towards its heart, driving south, looking for some source, some Master. Rarity could no longer keep track. Observations and questions fell away from her, lacking immediate significance. She was safe, as was Rainbow. That was enough, and more than enough. She relaxed, and slipped into a cold, dreamless slumber.