When the Everfree Burns

by SpiritDutch

Chapter 38: The Last Step Before the Plummet

On the eastern fringe of the Everfree Castle ruins, was a place half consumed by the encroaching forest: A cold graveyard, build over a few small rises in the land, sat silent and still in the shadow of the abandoned keep. Monolithic monuments surrounded by smaller tombstones alike were worn away by the elements, with only the barest traces of the engraved text and images surviving. Scattered headstones worn down to mere nubs presented a tripping hazard to anypony not paying attention. Around the old stone were brambly vines forming the vanguard of the shadowy treeline, while at the fringe saplings had begun to consume the graves.
Yes, Everfree Castle had stood long against the devouring forest, but the forest was pushing in nontheless

Walking among the graves Rarity saw statues of ponies, mostly earth ponies, decorating the top of the larger mausoleums. Their features were gone, but still they stood proudly as they had in life, holding quills, scrolls, and weapons in service to Celestia and her sister. One or two of them were bowed over, or even fully kowtow, in submission to their alicorn overlords. There were a few non-ponies among the depicted, including a hippogryph so worn that could barely be distinguished from the pegasi, save what remained of its crest.

Rarity soon arrived at the largest tomb, a veritable sepulcher the size of a small house, plain and devoid of all decoration. Rarity could tell it had once had a statue like the others, but it had been broken off at the base, with only rough spots where the hooves had been. Somepony important was, or was once planned to be, entombed there.

Rarity heard the crunch of a heavy hooffall on crisp grass, and the slightly belabored breathing of a large creature behind her. The ragged form of the black alicorn pulled up alongside her to face the massive tomb.
“Applejack told me I could find you somewhere in the castle.” The alicorn said. “I know you wanted to experience the glory and grandeur of a great court. We’re a thousand years too late for this place. There is nothing great here anymore, only death.”

Rarity hadn’t seen what Twilight’s ritual had created out of Nightmare Moon's body, but managed to remain calm and keep down the vomit she felt rising in her throat. Twilight’s fur was slightly matted, and rough in specific patches, like something had corroded it. Her mane and tail had grown unevenly from their previous length, mostly at shoulder length but a few wispy hairs brushed at her ankles.

“Darling, you look... awful.” Rarity said.

“Playing around in places of intense magical concentration is murder on the mane.” Twilight barely managed a wry smile before lapsing back into a deep frown. “You look good.”

“I feel odd. Every movement feels unsatisfying like it didn’t do quite what I wanted.” Rarity’s eyes were drawn to the tapestry that sat on Twilight back like a cape. "Is that..."

Twilight nodded.

Rarity sighed. “Just by laying eyes on it, I can tell what it is. That’s the, how did you call it? The binding. It’s beautiful, Twilight. You selected excellently.”

Twilight was humbled. “Applejack helped. I cast as many wards, protection, and preservation spells as I can remember, and when I have access to a library I’ll add more. The silk is maredian, I think, but it was woven locally by the- NO! Don’t touch it!”

Rarity yanked away the hoof she hadn’t even realized she’d been reaching out with. She looked between her hoof and the tapestry. “I…”

Twilight stared at her critically for a few moments. “Sorry, I didn't mean to yell. I just..." She leaned forward. "I'm not sure of the risks yet. The nightmare might still rest within you, starved without the soul and dream of a pony to sustain it, but waiting."

“No, that can’t be!” Rarity yelped despondently. “Twilight, can we never be free of this curse?”

“Don’t worry. We can, and we will.” Twilight said solemnly. “Right now, everywhere I look it seems there are only more questions, and nopony has the answers. I’ll find the power to get those answers, and find the truths that made this world how it is. Then we can undo this horrible night.”

“Twilight, I… I don’t want you to follow this quest to your destruction. If it might hurt you maybe you shouldn’t look. A month ago, I would have eagerly desired the answers to those mysteries, but that was a month ago.” Rarity picked over her words. “Now I would tell you that there are some things that we shouldn’t know. There are darker horrors in the world than I ever thought possible.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Twilight abruptly drew back. “I’ve suffered too much just to let my answers escape me. I need to know why I’ve been made into this. You of all ponies should sympathize.”

“Well yes we have all suffered darling.” Rarity tried to offer a comforting hoof but Twilight backed away further.

“Then why don’t you share my anger?” Twilight questioned. “Would you and Applejack be happy if your little corner of the world stayed the same after all of this? Well guess what, Applejack’s not reverted from her nightmare, and you’re still undead!”

Again Rarity’s eyes were once drawn to the tapestry tied into a cape hanging over Twilight’s wings and flank. Again she felt a temptation deep inside that drove her to want to reach out and touch it, but Twilight’s suspicious glare kept her back.

“Dead or not, I do not let anything overcome me. Neither will Applejack. She seems perfectly sane, for being a nightmare” Rarity affirmed. “Do I throw common sense to the wind because of it? No, of course not!”

“It won’t be long before Applejack and Dash starts to feel some dark hunger. Their minds might deteriorate. I don't know if the aberration that let me coexist with the nightmare extends to them.” Twilight warned. “Will Ponyville be willing to satiate her, or will they try kill her? What will they do to you if they learn you were the same?”

“Don’t ask those terrible things. They’re of no import.” Rarity paused. “You have no guarantee that you’ll find their curse among the madness.”

“I asked if they would kill Applejack. Is that so much of a stretch?”

“Applejack would defend herself. She has her sister to think of, and so do I.”

Twilight sighed, her bellicose tone abating. “Yes, and I suppose you two would do anything to keep them safe. And not only safe, but sane. They need a normal childhood in Ponyville.”

Rarity could see Twilight was thinking of Spike. “That’s exactly righ-”

Twilight interrupted her. “But you see, I don’t think anywhere in Equestria will remain ‘normal’ after what has happened here. Celestia is dead, and if it hadn’t become apparent yet, she isn’t coming back this time. Equestria is about to become the worse it has ever been, and there is nothing anypony can do to stop it. Except possibly me. It's not vanity, it's the truth."

“If ponies remain true to that the empire will stand firm.” Rarity wasn’t sure she believed that, but it was comforting to say. “Princess Celestia has her legacy.”

Twilight pointed at the massive unmarked tomb before them. “This chunk of marble was Celestia’s legacy once. This whole castle, nay, the whole forest, was! Celestia the First, the mightiest pony that ever was. She lost her entire principality and her entire world, along with her sister.” Twilight pointed north, in the general direction of Canterlot. “Then she conquered Equestria to make herself feel better. This tomb, larger than all the others and yet remarkably plain, which would have been hers, was left forgotten. The empire was her new gravestone.” She chuckled, half turning to Rarity. “I bet that first and greatest titan of ponykind was so happy when she felt herself die, wishing for rest beside her sister. How could she have known she would be reincarnated? Celestia the Second, the Celestia the Third... so on and so on.”

Rarity was beginning to feel very uneasy. Not only because of Twilight’s strange behaviour, but because the tapestry continued to tease her with an incomprehensible allure. She shook off the haze and answered Twilight. “How could have anypony foreseen what happened here?”

“Anypony with eyes. It was obvious. It was inevitable.” Twilight bit. “Celestia could have, and she could have avoided everything. If she’d been but a little more watchful, and a little more trusting!”

“Are you going to decry your princess before her own grave, when she is not even in it yet?” Rarity arched a brow. “Twilight, history has repeated itself. Celestia moved on a thousand years ago, and so should you.”

Twilight scoffed. “Celestia took out her anger and frustration on the free lords of Equestria. Like she always did, she channeled her emotion in her work, as if ignoring the past would simply make the pain go away. And you know what? It did. Nightmare Moon simply disappeared from history, and a hundred generations of Celestias lived with no knowledge of the sister they once had.”

“I’m not asking you to ignore what you’re feeling, just don’t revel in it.” Rarity defended. “We need to move on.”

“Buck you ‘I need to move on!’ ” Twilight glared. “Remind me who it was who nurtured a grudge with Applejack over a colt.”

“T- That was different.” Rarity faltered.

Twilight rolled her eyes.“Mig Blackintosh, or whatever his name was, has forgotten about you Rarity. Do you think I will ever forget this?”

Rarity grimaced, and held back the immediate urge to launch herself at Twilight. “Can’t you see what happening to you?”

Twilight ignored her, continuing snarkily. “Was it because there was sooo much more of a lasting impact of him leaving? I’m sure that the angst he feels could topple nations! I’m sure that wherever he is, unforgivable atrocities follow!”

“Nothing is unforgivable.” Rarity said.

“So long as there is somepony to forgive you.” Twilight, shockingly, smiled. “Celestia could have forgiven her sister, but with her last moments she decided to ruin the rest of my life. Nightmare Moon could have forgiven Celestia, but instead she let hate drive her to her death. My two mentors didn’t forgive, and I didn’t really expect it anyway.”

Something about the way Twilight was now calling Nightmare Moon her mentor sent a chill through Rarity. “What has gotten into you, Twilight? Has your time in that body gone to your head?"

"Whether or not I had this body, my actions would have remained the same."

Rarity gulped at the ominous nature of that declaration. "What did you do, Twilight?” She asked softly.

Twilight stared into the distance as she formulated her answer. “Something unforgivable. Many unforgivable somethings, in fact.” She began to sniffle.

“I- I don't want to know. But how could this happen?” This time Twilight let Rarity hug her, as the little unicorn descended into saddened whispers. She ran a calming hoof through the larger pony’s overgrown mane. “You were the best of us four! We lent you our energy so you could take that body and make a new start! Oh! If you can’t, who can?”

Though she had done everything to cover it, the compassion she was receiving was exactly what Twilight had been craving. It felt better to know that somepony would listen to her and always tell her it would be okay. Nopony had ever done that for her, not Celestia and not her mother. She leaned into the hug, letting herself be vulnerable for the first moment in a long while.

Rarity’s hoof strayed further down Twilight’s back, until, inevitably, it brushed against the tapestry. Unseen by both ponies, an arc of black energy formed between the two, and Rarity shook with a sudden agitation and strain she felt blossom through her body. She felt different, but familiar; She felt more.
She pulled away, and the longer she looked at Twilight, the angrier she felt, until a furious scowl broke over her face. “I died for you, and this is how you repay me?”

“We all make mistakes.” Twilight averted her eyes, unaware of the change overcoming the unicorn. It was easy ranting against Celestia when she was gone, but Rarity was there. Celestia was unavailable to forgive, and even though she had abused her, Twilight yearned for Rarity’s forgiveness. “That’s why I need answers, so I can make everything right.”

“You tricked me.” Rarity was shaking with anger, or perhaps it was inner conflict as something within her hijacked her senses and emotions again. “You just want to rub it in now, how great and powerful you are. You’re living every filly’s dream, a worthy mare who became a princess. You’re the big hero, aren’t you Twilight?”

“Rarity please stop.” Twilight asked. “I’m not a princess. I know I’m a fake and I want to fix it.”

“YOU HAD THE CHANCE!” Rarity screamed. “Forlorn Spark was just laying there, available for that ritual! Why did I have to die so that she could live? So that you could steal Nightmare Moon’s body?”

“Celestia left me no choice...” Twilight was now feeling enormously guilty about shifting responsibility to her princess. “She sacrificed herself to change her. I wouldn’t undo that.”

“Celestia did the world a service.” Rarity glared. “The world needs another Twilight Sparkle considering how badly this one bucked up.”

Those words hit Twilight like a punch to the gut. She knew she had made mistakes, big mistakes, but it had not sunk in that she really had passed a point of no return. The entire world would have been better off if she simply hadn’t existed at all. The self-directed loathing and anger returned to her tenfold.
“You said nothing is unforgivable.” She pleaded. “Please, I’ll take whatever punishment, if you’ll forgive me.”

“The rest of your life will be neverending punishment what what you’ve done.” Rarity spoke with near-religious conviction. “Equestria would be better if you were gone."

Twilight's heart throbbed. "It would... It would."

"Next time you leave, you had better never come back.”

Tears began streaming from Twilight eyes. “I- I- I know. You will take care of Spike, won’t you?”

Rarity’s glare was icy. “Better than you ever did.”

Twilight turned, unable to face Rarity any more. An impatient cough pulled her back. “Leave that with me.” Rarity demanded, pointing to the tapestry.

Unthinkingly Twilight untied her makeshift cape and let it fall to the ground. Without another word, Twilight slinked away, melting into the deep shadow of the forest of tombstones. Rarity watched her go for a moment, then cast a look at the tomb again, particularly at the broken base of it’s missing statue.
A sinister smile, imperceptibly thin, almost betrayed how proud of herself Rarity was. But she stifled the malevolent delight, when ponies could still be watching, and acted out a sad sigh. Then she too left the graveyard, cantering back towards the castle dragging the tapestry behind her with her magic. Maybe Twilight really would stay away, but even if she didn't Rarity had a while to work unmolested.

---

Astral Nacre and Ripple Wreath were nearing the underside of Canterlot’s plateau. They had begun to pass through tilled farmlands, probably tended by pegasus out of the city above. The dirt was less rocky than the hills to the north, though Wreath’s exhaustion was making it hard for him not to to stumble over every divot and bump.

“Pick your hooves up.” Astal demanded. “Did they teach you to parade like that is Prancia or the Riverpony Lands? Urg, how embarrassing you are!”

With his grandmother’s beautiful wolf-helmet adorning him, Wreath could only work his jaw angrily at Astral’s abuse. Indeed his fear had faded and his annoyance at being ordered around with every passing moment. He was fine taking order from ponies who deserved his obedience, but the creature watching him was merely abusive and petty.
He tried not to let her detect his feelings, by instead directing his anger at Glori for abandoning him, but he understood how terrifying it must have been, seeing two monsters bear down on her after declaring their lust for her blood. It was just that Glori had never for a moment seemed like the type of mare to be frightened by anything in the world. Wreath had seen her face off against a hundred opponents in the gladiator’s ring, and not a once did she back down. She always won tournaments because the demure equestrian knights didn’t know how to respond to a mare who would fight horn and hoof after being disarmed or mostly incapacitated.

He then tried to be angry at Ancepanox, with slightly more success. The black Lady had been almost cordial until Glori started being belligerent, but Wreath wondered if that hadn’t been a part of her act to distract them from Astral Nacre. If the misunderstanding had been genuine, then Ancepanox could have almost been forgiven on the grounds of self-defense, if she hadn’t gone on to murdered hundreds of terrified ponies.
Ancepanox reminded Wreath of his parents somewhat, a reasonable pony until you trod on her hoof, or got in her way, or disrespected her. If she ever came back to save him from Astral, he wondered if he could stand to look at the creature who’d tainted him. He could feel a phantom pain in his neck where the curse she placed on him waited, gnawing at him with a voracious impatience.

Wreath stopped for a moment to slide his helmet off. Astral slowed her trot as well. “What’s the matter now?” She barked.

“I have something to ask, if I may.” Wreath’s saddle bags had been in Glori’s tent when it had burned, but he spotted a potato sack on one of the gates they passed and grabbed it. “Did you kill Lady Glori's cousin, Seacrest Sabonord?”

“If you wanted a straightforward answer I would say yes. Then I would laugh in your face for being so daft. Who else but me?” Astral waited until Wreath had finished securing his helmet in the sack before continuing. “But the pony you knew as Seacrest was dead months before I was born.”

Seacrest’s letters had touched on the ritual that would create an alicorn. After reading that, Glori hadn’t been subtle about her intention to take such a ritual for her own use. She saw no irony in seeking to ascend to the level of Celestia, a pony she loathed as much as anything could possibly be loathed. If she’d known that blasphemous magic would make something like Astral, perhaps she wouldn’t have been so quick to march on Canterlot.

“Who killed him then?” Wreath fell back in as they resumed their trot.

“It was suicide, or at least he thought of it that way.” Astral said with a touch of melancholy. “He was never happy with being the soft type, with how often Glori ridiculed him for his poetry and song. He was a stain on the Blackhorn lineage, she’d say. Weren’t you there?”

The way Astral was looking at him now was exactly how the demure Seacrest would look at Glori during one of her abusive tirades. Wreath was never so embarrassed to be by her side as when she picked on her pitiful cousin.

“I was there.” Wreath whispered. “But how did you know?”

“Scatted memories, chunks of thought... My inheritance. Bits of Foaly Flux and Seacrest are still swimming around in my head. Less from Rain Gnash. Unlike the others, she was unwilling to go, unwilling to spend her life to manifest a god. I do wonder if her stubornness is to blame for my problems.” Astral looked to the west, where Cloudsdale hovered just off the northern slopes of the Unicorn Range. “When I get stronger I can complete us, Lady Gnash.”

“ Did Seacrest really want to die though?” Wreath never thought that Seacrest would be driven to that. But what could he have done? Glori would have ridden him ragged for months for showing weakness.

Astral seemed annoyed that her narcissistic introspection was being ignored, but answered nonetheless. “He submitted himself to the Mistress Phyte, a specialist in death. As I said, he thought of this as the death of his old self. Only, he came out wrong, another failure of her quest for a replacement child. Seacrest wanted to be a part of that ideal, wanted to be wanted, but he went to the wrong mare. He failed at his first suicide. My lady mother Twilight Velvet helped him, and he is now gone.”

“That’s horrible.” Wreath shuddered. It was much, much worse than he’d thought. Astral and Ancepanox must have been steps to his repentance, for the crime he had been complacent in.

“It is what it is.” Astral shrugged, turning back to the path ahead. “Keep up now! When we get to the Mountain’s base we will be taking a short flight, but if you make me carry you a second sooner, I’ll feed you nothing but lepers for a week!”

Ripple Wreath didn't know what that meant and he didn't want to know, so he stayed close behind him, backshift bag bouncing on his side.

---

Nowhere else in the Everfree Castle was the unnatural nature nature of the ruins more evident than in the voluminous library. The whole space, was miraculously intact and unspoiled, despite the gaping holes in the roof and partially collapsed wall. Not a book was spoiled and no vegetation had begun to infest it like the rest of the castle.
Rarity passed bookshelf after bookshelf as she slowly made her way through the Everfree Castle’s. A smile came to her face when she contemplated how that book-happy Twilight Sparkle would react when she saw the great collection, or how sad she would become in being denied it.

However, the mysteries of magic and ages past did not appeal to Rarity, not when she had a much greater matter on her mind. The arcane and esoteric were better left to the self-absorbed scholars.
It was time to stop skulking in the shadows and make the move she had been planning since just before Twilight Sparkle's arrival in Ponyville. It was time to stop pussyfooting around, and fulfiled her most dearly held plans.

She carefully scanned the floor and walls for signs that anything had been disturbed since the last time she had been there, four months previous, or any other overt signs of meddling. Everything was in it’s proper place, so she quickly proceeded to one particular alcove, hidden from view from every angle save a small gap behind one of the bookcases.

At the center of the hidden alcove was a statue, a solid stone affair as tall as a pony, though it’s subject was much more so. It was an alicorn, though most every detail had been worn away by caressing hooves. The ridged crown sitting above her ears, just out of reach for most ponies, had remained mostly pristine, but a pony with a keen eye would have made out her face, looking downward at any ponies prostrate before her. It was the statue missing from the great tomb in the cemetery.

Miscellaneous tokens and offerings were laid out around the statue. Wilted blue flowers and small pouches of coins were at the center, newly placed since Rarity had last visited. Fluttershy’s customary offering of a knitted devotional image was missing, which was forgivable since Twilight had taken the poor pegasus’s map of the Everfree. It seemed that another of the devout had put an extra flower in her stead. Rarity saw the offering she’s made the last time she’d been there, a lock of her hair bound in a ribbon.
She pushed all of that aside set down her a new, most glorious offering: A lock of Celestia’s hair she had just cut, from the corpse in the throne room.

That liturgy observed, Rarity cantered to the back of the alcove, where a white saddlebag was waiting for her. She daintily extricated a black bound book emblazoned with her own blue diamond mark with her pale blue magic. She filled the vacated space in the bag with the black moon tapestry, carefully folded. Next, she pulled out a quill and a stopped-up ink bottle. She arrayed those before her as she settled down on her haunches.

Opening the book to the middle and read over the last few lines of her last entry, made just before she met Twilight Sparkle. Rarity could read out the the anger and frustration of her past self, and towards the end of the paragraph the great resignation with which she had left. The poor mare had been so distraught she’d left her book by the shrine. Rarity chuckled disdainfully at how weak her past self had acted.

She flipped to the next barren page and dipped the quill in the ink while she decided on her words. So much had happened in the last days, it nearly overwhelmed Rarity to consider it all. She decided to start with the greatest event first, and her memory flashed to the great battle in the throne room, and the ponies who had been lost.

Dear Diary,

Tonight I met my Empress. Seeing her stirred up feelings of devotion and faith I have not felt since I was a child hearing my mother’s stories. Her great ladyship died making a sacrifice, and I remembered what my mission in this life was. Her message will once again flow from my lips, so that everypony can remember what they feel when they hear her name.
Oh dear, I’m getting carried away aren’t I! I simply feel the need to get all of this onto paper, before I forget even a single detail! Her mane, most radiant, and her demeanor, so determined! Though I had the pleasure of her company only for a short time I will never forget her ever again.
I desire so much to be like her, divine and powerful. It is a desire most dear...

But first things first! Where was I? Oh, yes. She died.
Then, Twilight Sparkle assumed control of her body...

---

Hanging on for dear life was something Ripple Wreath was used to.
His younger siblings had been incredibly rambunctious with insatiable appetites for action. Wreath, though his temperament was entirely counter to theirs, had been expected to manage and discipline them in the absence of his father. Castle life in general was hectic, as was the regimen of a knight in training. Despite claims to the contrary, Wreath knew it was his general passivity among a lineage of go-getters that had led to his being sent to the infamous Glori Sabonord.
Glori had a compulsion to take the spotlight, the drive to do anything she wanted, and the energy to back it up. All Wreath could ever do was tag along as she pursued intrigue or adventure when everypony around them wanted domestic peace. Taking her army to Canterlot was simply the latest adventure of hers, and the first one that had blown up spectacularly in her face.

But flying was bringing out of him a whole new fear. Astral Nacre soared on her impossible bare wings, holding Wreath beneath her with her hooves. They spiraled upwards away from the valley floor to the plateau of Canterlot.

“Oh gods, please spare me!” Wreath screamed into the whipping wind, futilely he knew, since if there were gods they clearly hated his guts.

“Spare me your terror.” Astral’s mental communication was unimpeded by the air rushing around them. “Even if I dropped you, you would not die because of your curse.”

Through Wreath’s mind flashed the mental image of him splatting against the ground, and a pony of black shadow oozing out of his broken skin and piecing him back together before reentering through his eyes. “Please don’t.”

“I wouldn’t.” Astral consoled. “Though it would be very amusing.”

It took several minutes of accent before they were level with the plateau, and a few seconds longer to rise above the city’s tall walls. Canterlot in the eternal night was a sight to behold, with a hundred thousand ponies trying to accommodate the necessities of life to the persistent nighttime. The flares of unicorn horns sparked across the inner city and torches lining the larger streets formed a spider web away from Canterlot Castle.

Wreath would have been awestruck if he were not so nauseated, and to his alarm Astral continued to climb.

“Where are we going?” He mewled.

“My room, of course.” Astral said.

She banked right, skirting the parapets of one of the watchtowers, to Wreath’s screaming horror, before going up to be level with the middle windows of the Castle Magoria. The great fortification was largely dark, but the lord’s personal rooms were still lit for the benefit of Canterlot’s newest royal family.

Tucking her wings in, Astral swooped through an open window landing gracefully in the ducal quarters. Wreath scrambled away from her as quickly as he could, sucking in shallow breaths. “Never again!”

“Yes again. And again and again and again.” Astral cackled. “You’re my ward, my dear. You will learn tolerance or else you will have an unpleasant time with me.”

“Pshh WHAT!” Wreath seethed, the last of his patience breaking. “I’m the master of tolerance! I have been more than reasonable considering what I’ve been through! I should be a wreck right now, and I’m not because I’m tolerant and I’m adaptable. You alicorns want to act like your bullshit is normal, but it’s not!” His eyes narrowed to slits, and there was a palpable weight to his shadow around him. Astral could feel the dark energy welling in his heart. "Tolerance is something for you to learn, not I."

Astral cocked her head. “Pride is so becoming of you, my dear. And you look like a real darling when you are mad.”

Wreath blushed furiously, his self-conscious embarrassment washing out his anger. “H- Hey now-” He retreated a few steps. "I didn't mean to yell. It- It was the curse!"

“I still have to punish you.” Astral giggled, encompassing Wreath in her magic. “You’re in time out.” She shoved him into a oversized birdcage placed against her wall. "Oh ho! Being a guardian is more fun than I thought. When I give you back to Lady Ancepanox, I will find a new... Wait..." She did a double take for what she had only just noticed. “Where… Who put all this stuff in my room?”
The duke’s quarters were stuffed from wall to wall with boxes and birdcages, all smelling faintly of mildew and smoke. In fact, that Astral had not disturbed any of the large piles during her landing was an amazing accident.

“Somepony nailed something to the door.” Wreath meekly said.

Astral scanned the door with her beady eyes to confirm that somepony had indeed left a note. “Shut up, you’re in time out.” She barked as she pulled the note to herself. It was short, in a meticulous and elegant pen.

Your most gracious, Lady Astral

My severest apologies for the inconvenience, but the duke’s former quarters are going to be used for storage while the loot contraband from Phyte’s lair and the Musician’s Guild is sorted. In the meantime, we mirror our lady's ask that you spend more time in the throne room.
Don’t shoot the messenger.

Sincerely,
Prosser Aurthora Airy

“Those bastards.” Astral swore. “A whole city to pile their trash, and they put it here?! I see what they are trying to do. They want me to lose my cool and lose face! I can’t go anywhere without somepony trying to trip me up! Conniving, devious ponies. Jealous, envious-”

“I’m sure whatever you’re getting worked up over is an honest misunderstanding.” Wreath offered.

“Quiet you!” Astral ratted his cage with her magic, but was shocked to feel a new aura push away hers. There was a pop, and when Astral looked up from the letter, green light was fading from the corner where a birdcage had held Wreath a moment earlier.
Her brow quivered, and the castle rattled with her plaintive wail. “MOTHER!!”

---

In the time since Twilight had come back with Spike, a few hours at least, Applejack had been occupied with what could loosely been called housekeeping. The little roofless annex where she’d made the campfire had become a makeshift camp of sorts, with the fillies taking up their own corner where they could avoid the nightmarish adults. Applejack had almost finished arranging some of the rubble into a ring around the fire, and had made a pile of sticks and logs for extra fuel for when it was needed.

Twilight had rested precious little after her collapse, then run off again. She looked worse and worse every time Applejack saw her, returning from Canterlot, then returning from the deep forest, and the earth pony was beginning to fear that the former unicorn would push herself too far. With the same thought, she felt an aggressive drive to exploit Twilight’s weakness, and like the other dark urges had to suppress it with some effort.

Spike, on the other hoof and entirely contrary to her expectation, was perfectly okay. It was well known that spending a night in the Everfree would spell death for most ponies with all the deadly beasts therein. Applejack was beginning to believe that sinister reputation existed for a different reason, and if the recent events were any indication it was because of the hold the nightmare’s magic had over the forest. The little dragon was still passed out despite Applejack's gentle efforts to rouse him, more magic at work.

“Oh my stars!” She heard from the entryway. Rarity was there, hoof over her mouth in restrained shock. She guessed Twilight must have asked her to visit Spike.

“Hey. You're looking well. He’s alright too.” Applejack said. “Twilight cast a spell so he could sleep better.”

But it wasn’t Spike that Rarity was looking at. Her eyes were fixated on Dash, who was still unconscious from her experience in the chasm.

“Have you been taking care of everything all by yourself? Oh darling, it was so irresponsible to leave that to you while I explored.” Rarity checked Dash up and down, making sure she was okay. “I got so distracted with thinking about poor Twilight that I entirely forgot about dealing with you!”

“You were talkin with Twilight?” Applejack returned to tending to Spike, settling him by where the fillies had been. The fillies themselves hadn’t come back from their fright from Twilight. Applejack had hoped Rarity could keep them close to her, if they would fear her less now that she had returned to normal. "Where's she gone now? She passed out for a minute but I think she needs to rest longer."

“No chance of that. She was very distraught when I talked to her. I fear for her health and sanity.” Rarity sighed. “She thinks she did something unforgivable.”

“Unforgivable?” Applejack repeated. She had a bad feeling about what Rarity was saying. “Twilight would never. That ain’t her.”

“I similarly expressed my shock, but she was inconsolable.” Rarity cover her face with a hoof to hide her tears, her lip quivering. “I fear she may never return.”

Applejack sucked in a breath of cold air as she looked back down at Spike. The fillies still had their sisters to explain the change and tragedy that had happened, but Spike would be bereaved of his closest friend when he needed her most. "Dang."

“But I wonder, why would she run away from us?” Rarity questioned. “Is she worried about hurting us, or is she afraid of what we would think of her?” She gave Applejack a worried look. “You told her you forgave her, right?”

“Well…” Applejack was starting to feel the stab of guilt.

“Oh dear.” Rarity gasped. “I hope she didn’t run away because she thought you hated her! You don’t, right?”

“Of course I forgive her, even if I didn't outright tell her... but I don’t really know what to make of this.” Applejack admitted gloomily. “What unforgivable thing did she do? If she could turn you back to normal- And did she tell you how she did that? I'm real confused.”

“You’ve clearly misunderstood the situation, darling.” Rarity said, a hint of condescension seeping into her tone. “Lady Sparkle is more immured in a nightmare's influence than we are. The body of Nightmare Moon was the source of all this, no? If we had let it lie, the nightmare in all of us would have withered. But by taking that body, she kept us trapped by our curse."

"That... That don't follow. The source was Nightmare Moon itself, not the body." Applejack made a face. "You're guessing."

"Consider that Twilight had much, much more contact with Nightmare Moon than either of us know. Neither of us know what her true motivations are at this point. She may be, like you, a mare torn between pony and nightmare." Rarity threw Applejack a sidelong glance. "Are you ravaged down by emotions of guilt and anger? She is also. Are you overwhelmed before the future hurtling towards you? She is also."

Applejack looked back, unblinkingly. “Yeah, and? We work that stuff out.”

“Work it out? HA, you are a silly pony. The Dark washes over us. Guilt, guilt, guilty! Oh, you're just so disgustingly guilty all the time!” Rarity laughed. “That featherhead Dash too, has a guiding sin. Work it out... You make me laugh!”

“Rarity, why’re you talkin like that?”

“I know myself, Applejack! I know me!” Rarity ignored her, the menace in her voice growing. “I hated Twilight! Oh, how I wanted to kill her for hurting me, and hurting Sweetie Belle! But then I died, and I talked to her. I realized what was wrong.” She hung her head. “We were both victims of circumstance, and each other’s hubris.”

“Each other’s?” Applejack said, with growing concern. She felt like a child, weakly asking questions after Rarity's bold declarations. She was beginning to dread the odd look in the unicorn's eye. Was something wrong with Rarity? She was supposed to be cured, no?

“When I woke up it was natural for me to assume that when I forgave Twilight, I had also let go of the root of my nightmare. And yet...” Rarity tilted cocked her head and flash a sharp grin. “Applejack, my body is still rife with darkness..”

“You mean...” Applejack drew in a sharp breath, backing away. She glanced down at Spike, unsure if she could protect him. “Say it ain’t so.”

“It is. I was simply separated from my sin, literally. The distance was keeping my soul clean of the effect of the Dark. Now the distractions are over, and my way is lost no longer. I know my purpose and so I will accept my blessings again.” Rarity lifted the tapestry out of her saddlebag by magic and brought it between her and Applejack. “I remember what I feel now. I feel it with such strength I could overcome Celestia herself. I am driven by purpose.” Black smoke began to curl around body, herelding changes that Applejack had seen in reverse hours earlier. Rarity bared her teeth in a savage snarl,already beginning curve into fangs. “My purpose is to HATE YOU!”

“Rarity, don’t do it! Listen, we don't gotta live cursed lives!” Applejack pleaded.

Rarity was starting to glow darkly, the longer she grasped the tapestry, but she kept it at a hoof's length, drawing out her own suffering. "I'll crush this world like I was born to do."

Applejack jumped to try to stop Rarity, but was too slow getting to her. Rarity embraced the black moon tapestry to her breast. Like a softly spoken whisper, blackness encompassed her, then the entire annex and everypony there.

---

Splish splash, splish, splash. Each hoofstep through the stagnant marsh broke the silence with its aquatic crackling. Twilight was racked by waves of mental numbness and static, as her inner dissonance battled against her consciousness.

Rarity hated her. The pony she thought she connected with hated her guts!
What reprieve could there possibly be for a cursed mare like Twilight in the world. Hate, only hate… Oh how much she'd talked and boasted in Canterlot, but it was window-dressing for an empty, pointless heart. Why had she killed? Why had she lied? Why had she existed? Twilight had done many actions, but they were empty gestures. She'd done nothing. Been nothing. Just a hole.

Better off never living at all.

She felt nothing, only a weightlessness like she was something cast adrift, not expected to be found again. She floated there for an indecipherable eternity, unwilling to comprehend the sheer blank that surrounded her.

Then ground rose to meet her, slowly laying her upon itself. It looked like soft grass, and yet felt like cold stone against her as she got up.

Twilight heard whispers: Distant, powerful, and resonant taunts. They rolled through the empty plain of her world like a shockwave, rusting the grass and sending a tingle up her spine.
This was not the waking world anymore.

“You’re weak. So, so weak.” The curling whispers derided, pitying more than malevolent.

The emptiness was encapsulating, blocking Twilight’s vision further than a hoof’s length. She could see nothing of her surroundings, and still she felt it was filled with things invisible to her. There were flecks of light and dark around her, but it did not come from the sun or moon. It was magical Light, and Magical Dark, mixing and interplaying in that void, conflict incarnate nettling her with pain and no pleasure.

The ominous whisper came again. “You trifled with Dark things. You were a fool to think you would not be overcome.”

Twilight started walking in one direction, than another. The shape of the ground was static, but she felt how it changed to silken grass and then to wet mud under her hoof.

Everywhere she heard the sound like slithering snakes, and yet spoken so deeply, that whisper teasing her onwards. It demanded her attention, though it spoke with no urgency at all.

“Feeble pony, cursed one, truly forsaken and forlorn. Weakling though you are, I recognize you. I have your answers, young viscountess.”

Answers. Twilight need answers, more than anything.
Twilight broke into a gallop, jerking her head around to catch a glimpse of the elusive heckler. She thought she saw figures in the mist, passing shadows of regal alicorns of gold and blue, the shocked face of a dying changeling queen, tortured profiles of knights and soldiers losing their souls, and a tangled mass of flesh laughing and crying as it butchered and reformed its victims. She could almost feel them, passing her by a hair’s breadth every time she tried to catch them.

“You are lost in your own land and in your own mind. I sympathize. I offer my help.”

Like a lighthouse beacon, a beam of light passed through the viscous air. From the direction it came, a faint red glow could be seen. Twilight immediately turned and galloped towards it. The ground underhoof began to rise, sloping into a hill at whose top was the light. Twilight felt invisible things brush against her as she mounted the slope.

“Parts of yourself would wish you follow blindly, deprived of the truth you covet. You have let them stop you before, but will you now?”

The invisible things began to lash and tear at Twilight’s hooves, causing her to stumble and fall. They scratched at her face and body, and when she managed to get back up her limbs had become uncoordinated and weak. A great weight pressed against her mind, and stymied her resolve to press onwards. The slope of the hill seemed insurmountable now.

“You can not be so pitiful if you want truth, young viscountess. Fight. Fight and persist.”

Just as she was about to collapse, Twilight broke through the tangle holding her back. She fell to her stomach, and the sensation of falling came again, this time much stronger. Her eyes watering to clear away the corrosive fog from her vision. She was at the top of the hill, in a small circle of clear air. Everything around her was tinted red by what was at the center: The eye of the storm, a hole in the hill descending into a swirling abyss of black tar and red fire.

Twilight knew what was happening now. She tried to speak, but first had to cough out what black fog she had breathed in. “I’m in the real world, on that cistern in the bog. I’m only seeing it wrong.”

“You were always seeing it wrong. Perhaps this is closer to the truth.”
The voice came forth from the pit, Twilight’s altered view of the hole into the antechamber where she’d found Spike.
“You are too feeble to be fully Dark, young viscountess. Like Forlorn Spark, you need the Light of destiny to provide reprieve from your failings. The question is, can you go back to it?”

“I have nothing else.” Twilight could feel a squirming mass within her, from her heart to the pit of her stomach. The accursed Dark curse within her was agitated, in fear or anticipation she did not know, and she did not care.

“Know that beyond this point, you will have to give up what you were in the light alone. You may even have to give up your name.”

That name didn’t belong to her anymore anyway. “I give it willingly.”

“Then truth awaits.” The voice invited.

The forsaken pony looked back over her shoulder, but knew that her fractured mind would be unable to see the Everfree Castle. It didn’t exist to her anymore.
She walked to the abyssal pit of light and dark, and leaned forward. She plummeted downwards, piercing the veil of fire and tar with only hoofsteps and a wisp of smoke to show she was ever there.

Comments

[SpiritDutch]

I was expecting this to be done much sooner. I have about 15K words of scenes that I just threw out and rewrote, which included the contents of this and the next chapter. However, there will be another bridge chapter with Dash and Gilda before that.

Yeah, not much else to say. Sorry for taking so long with this, all the angstyness and cliched light-dark symbolism, and additional apologies if you like Rarity. I really don't have anything against her, but I seem to make her villainous more often than averages would warrant. Must be because I need a foil to brute force that pervades the story despite the mostly female perspective. Rarity is the best candidate for a manipulative, backstabbing, femme fatal kind of evil.