XXVIII: Ashes to Ashes
The nightmare seemed to last forever.
Reality was a riot of color and sound. Violently it turned in all directions, crimson reds and billowing blacks, blending and settling and blending again. Sometimes the colors seemed to bend around phantom shapes, like water breaking upon a rock in the rapids, giving form to the ghosts of images that may or may not have been real.
At length, the ghosts began to appear more frequently. Images became clearer, sounds became more distinct, and a scene began to unfold. Flickering firelight cast on a stone wall. Smoke, lazily accumulating where it would. Heat, pulsing through the place like the heartbeat of a monster. Ponies, running this way and that. A single young filly, standing alone in a burning room.
Without warning, reality itself seemed to crack like a whip. Sounds became clear, images became sharp, and though it did not cease to be a nightmare, everything became horribly real.
Rose Lily screamed as the world around her fell apart.
“Watch out!”
Her eyes were shut as tight as could be; she was not watching for anything. Her high-pitched scream came to an abrupt stop, and she gasped as a pair of strong hooves slammed into her side and shoved her violently to the ground. She tumbled across the hard stone floor a small ways before coming to a stop, the weight of another pony crushing her body. Immediately after, the sound of a snapping wooden beam pierced the air, and a terrible crash came from where she had just been standing. She drew a sharp breath as the pony that had tackled her quickly relieved her of his weight.
Her eyes snapped open in shock. Sensations leapt at her from all directions. Her head was spinning. The world was a dizzying mess of vertigo. She could not breathe. It was awful.
Her mind struggled to grasp what was happening around her, but the fear made it hard to think. Never in her life had she been so afraid, not even when Manehattan had been overrun by those terrible monsters. Her mother and father had done their best to protect her then. But this… this was happening to her, and it was inescapable.
The church basement had seemed so safe when they first entered. Despite its dark, gloomy atmosphere, everypony had been so excited. The unusually spacious interior and multiple rooms meant that even the hundred or so of them could gather in relative comfort and even privacy, though nopony really wanted to be alone. There had been candles, blankets, food, even a few beds – it was like an indoor picnic, she had thought, and nopony had seemed worried in the slightest. The army was coming to rescue them, they had said! The Maiden herself, and all of Her knights! Rose Lily’s eyes had lit up at that. She had always wanted to meet an angel. Much to her parents’ chagrin, she had even gone upstairs to see them come – descending on celestial blue comets, piercing through the storm clouds and streaking towards the ground like a living meteor shower. Just like they had promised.
Eventually, the soldiers had arrived, and everypony had been so happy they cheered!
To her delight, a knight of the Maiden had come downstairs to tell them something, but she did not hear what. He had hardly looked like a knight, though. More like a dirty, injured pegasus that happened to be dressed in gold-and-grey armor – not nearly as brilliant as she had imagined. He had gone back upstairs, and some of their group had gone with to help him with something.
There had been shouting, and banging, and an omnipresent buzzing noise that Rose had long since learned to fear. There had been an explosion, and an earth-shaking roar. She was not sure which had made her ears hurt worse, but they were both equally fearsome.
And then everything had gone wrong. Rose was not sure how or even when it had happened, but everything was falling apart, literally.
Everypony had been waiting with bated breath for the return of the knight, ears perked up, listening for the announcement that they were free and clear. It had never come. Instead, a column of fire had rushed down the staircase, igniting the basement and all of their supplies. Soon after, the sole passage upstairs had collapsed. They were, all of them, trapped.
Everything that followed was a blur of smoke and sound. Fire slowly crept in towards her. Billowing black smoke poured into the room, lying across the ceiling like a thick blanket. Blistering heat coursed through the place in waves, so stifling and pervasive that it was difficult to breathe.
And yet, it was not so difficult to breathe that Rose Lily could not scream.
“Mommy!”
The filly was still trying to stand when she felt herself scooped up into the arm of pony much larger than herself. She yelped and wriggled in the hooves of her captor, trying desperately to break free, until she heard a familiar voice.
“Keep your head down, Rosy!”
Her gaze wandered up, and she saw her mother looking back at her, the wild firelight reflecting brightly in her brave eyes.
“Hold on!” she yelled above the din, shifting Rose’s weight and resting her on her own back, all four legs dangling off either side. Rose tried to respond, but choked on her words, only letting out a whimper as she was handled. Once stable, she instinctually wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck, nuzzling into her mane. She did as she was told, holding on for dear life.
Peeking through strands of silky lavender hair, Rose Lily spotted the dirty grey coat of her father – except it really was dirty with soot and dirt and red… He and her mother were speaking, carrying on a frantic exchange that, for all its volume, she could just barely make out.
“…I’ve got to do something!” He was not facing them as he spoke, but rather digging at a burning mess of wood and debris.
“You can’t!” her mother screamed back. It scared Rose to hear her like that. “They’re going to send somepony, Silver! The soldiers are already here, they’ll help us!”
“Then where are they?”
A miniature eruption burst forth from the pile he was working at. He jumped away and shielded his face, growling in pain. The sudden flare of heat hurt Rose’s eyes, and she shut them tight, hiding behind her mother’s mane.
“Violet!” she heard her father say. “Take Rose to the storage closet! It’s the farthest- Ah!” The sound of another crash came from before them, she felt her mother’s body lurch beneath her, backing away from the source. “It’s the farthest away from the fire! I’ll come get you when we’re free!”
“Silver…” To Rose, the voice sounded strangely rough.
“Go.”
“Silver!”
“Go!”
A strangled cry of protest tore itself from Violet’s lips, but without another word, she turned and galloped. Rose tried to look back, but could not properly angle her head while being carried. Another flare of heat caught her eyes, and she closed them again.
The retreat seemed to take much longer than it should have. Rose felt her mother swerve around obstacles, sometimes slowing down to push things out of the way. Once she almost fell off as a section of the ceiling collapsed dangerously close to them. Violet let out a cry of pain as she was buffeted by the debris, but kept her balance and pushed through it, not daring to stop for even a moment.
Finally, the volume of the chaos was behind them. It abated by degrees as they escaped into another room, separate from the place they had initially taken refuge. Violet slammed the door behind them, and then gently let her daughter slide off her back. The terrifying sounds became muffled behind the layer of wood, but Rose could still hear it clearly enough. Relentlessly piercing the air were the sounds of collapsing architecture, the crackle of fire, and the screams of other refugees. Especially the screams. Nevertheless, Rose could not help but feel safer in her mother’s presence, if only a little. She dared to open her eyes.
They were alone. The room was small, only a few paces from wall to wall, even fewer with all the crates and furniture lining the space, but if she had to be alone with anypony, it would have been her mother. It would have been pitch black if not for a pair of candles that somepony had taken the time to light. The gentle glow was nice, especially after escaping the blaze behind them. And with the noises mercifully dampened, it was almost peaceful.
Her mother had one hoof against the door, resting upon it. Her head was craned down low, and she was breathing heavily. She may have only been six years old, but Rose recognized that the sound was not healthy.
“Momma…?”
Her hoof fell away from the door, and hit the ground with a clop that seemed to echo in the small space. Her chest rose and fell with breaths that she tried to make deep and lasting, but Rose could hear the strain.
Rose took a step closer. “Is dad gonna be okay?”
Violet’s breath seemed to jump as she tried to summon a response. She raggedly inhaled, and spoke in the sweetest, calmest tone she could muster. “He’ll be here in just a few minutes, Rosy.”
Rose merely whimpered. Violet tried to take a deep breath, her expression almost disinterested as her hoof wandered up to her side, dabbing at a spot on at her ribs. A wince of pain played across her features. She withdrew her hoof and brought it to her eyes. It was slick with blood. Slowly, her neck craned around as she tried to get a better look at herself. Her calm expression faltered, and she looked away.
She shifted in place, trying to hide it.
Carefully, she turned around and began the walk to the other end of the room. Rose trotted to her side to follow suit. Violet’s steps were slow and methodical, and though it was only a few seconds, the journey took longer than it should have.
Rose cried out as they stepped into the candlelight. “Ah! Y-you’re… you’re…!”
Her eyes followed a single drop of blood as it fell, splashing lightly when it hit the floor. It was followed by another, and another. Soon, a small pool of crimson formed and crept steadily across the floor, flickering candlelight dancing and gleaming off the surface of it.
Rose’s eyes wandered up, and she saw the source. Four inches of splintered wood, charred black and dyed red, protruded from her mother’s ribcage.
A groan of discomfort escaped Violet’s mouth as she slowly let herself collapse to the ground.
“Mommy!” Rose cried, stepping closer. “Are you okay? There’s a… there’s a… You’re bleeding!” The filly paced frantically back and forth, making small half-circles around her mother.
“Shhh…” Violet cooed as steadily as she could. “I’m okay.” She shifted her right side to face the wall where her daughter could not see it. Rose tried to follow, but felt herself ushered away by a strong hoof.
“Come here, sweetie,” Violet whispered, gathering her filly into her arms. Rose weakly complied, and lay down by her side, curling up as tightly as she could against her mother. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she quietly sobbed, hiding her face with her hooves.
“Shh, it’s okay. Hey. Don’t cry. It’s okay.” Violet nuzzled her daughter’s cheek, brushing away a tear.
A terrible crash shook the entrance of the closet. Tendrils of black smoke began to slip into the room, leaking through the top of the doorframe.
“Don’t look,” Violet quickly murmured, gently turning Rose’s head to face her. Her eyes wandered around for a few moments before resting on her. Violet smiled. “Why don’t you sing me a song?”
Rose sniffled. “W-what… kind of song?”
Violet closed her eyes in thought. When she spoke, she did not reopen them. “A lullaby. The one I taught you. Remember?”
Rose weakly nodded, though her mother could not see. She took a deep breath, and coughed it all out. It tasted like smoke. She tried again.
Her voice was a clear, high, the soprano of a child. It was weak and full of fear. It trembled pitifully as she sang. Yet somehow, the chaos did not drown her out. It was quiet, but it was there.
It made Violet’s heart ache.
“My beautiful daughter,” she whispered. She lay her head down upon the stone as her daughter began singing.
“Sun’s last ray, light of day,
Lazy sunset slips away.
Close your eyes, go to sleep,
Dream of heaven, dream of peace.
“Starry skies-”
The ceiling above them creaked, and Rose stopped, casting a fearful glance upwards. Her mother did not move, but whispered hoarsely to her. “Keep singing, Rosy.”
Rose coughed, and looked back at her mother. Her eyes were still closed, and her breaths were shallow.
“I’m okay,” she said, peeking one eye open. “Keep singing. Please.”
Violet felt her daughter tremble at her side, but she continued regardless.
“Starry skies, moon’s soft light,
Heaven keep you through the night,
Morning light, brings the day,
Sun’s first ray.”
Her last note seemed to linger in the air. Rose looked at her mother hopefully. This time, she did not look back.
“Again,” she whispered.
Rose nodded, shut her eyes, and started again.
“Sun’s last ray, light of day,
Lazy sunset slips away,
Close your eyes, go to sleep-”
Another crash sounded from ceiling above them. Rose opened her eyes. The roar of the fire was getting stronger outside the room, and she realized she could barely see through the smoke. A ragged cough tore itself from her throat. She felt dizzy.
“Mom…”
Her eyes widened as the sound of a support beam snapping filled the room, and the wooden ceiling buckled under an unseen weight, sagging towards her as if it were about to cave in.
“I’m scared, mommy…”
Her fear was met with no response. She looked to her mother, who lay there unmoving.
“Mom…?” She pawed at her face with a hoof. Her mother’s head rolled limply back and forth again, but there was no other response. “Wake up, mom. Wake up!” She nudged at her side, pushing with her whole body. Her mother seemed content to let herself be shaken.
“Mommy! Wake up! I’m scared, mommy, I’m scared! Wake up, help me! Please!”
Rose Lily rose to her hooves and frantically paced around her mother, the tears returning to her eyes. The smoke was even thicker, now. She coughed and coughed and shouted and pleaded with her mother to wake up. But nothing happened, and nopony came to her rescue.
The ceiling bent in even further. Finally, it collapsed.
Only half of it caved in – fortunately, the half that she was not occupying. A chaotic pile of bricks and debris fell, smothering most of the room and forming a disordered staircase to the lip of a hole in the ceiling. Rose cried. She wanted more than anything to escape the hellish room, but if mommy thought it was best to stay here and rest, then that’s what she would do.
She hugged her mother tight around the neck and closed her eyes, softly crooning a lullaby, just like she had been told. Singing was hard. It came out like more of a whisper. It probably would have been easier if she was not coughing so much.
Why was her mother so sleepy? Though, Rose was pretty sleepy herself. She probably would have taken a nap were she not coughing so hard. But luckily, things were beginning to get a little bit quieter. The fire did not roar so fiercely, the stone did not crack so loud. Little stars started lighting up around the room. The lullaby was working.
But suddenly, she was moving, and not of her own accord. Her stomach lurched with that familiar sensation of being rocked back and forth in somepony’s arms. The arms were strong, and somehow, she knew the pony carrying her was brave. Daddy had come back for her! Mommy was probably close behind.
She bounced like a ragdoll in her father’s arm as he climbed the staircase of debris and continued on to escape. Fire swept by them, a cacophony of destruction resounded all about them, but Rose could not be frightened. She was too sleepy.
Eventually, she felt all four of her hooves touch the ground as she was quickly, but gently set down. More out of reflex than anything else, she managed to stay standing, locking her knees. She swayed and stumbled around as a miniature earthquake shook the stone beneath her. The smoke was not so bad out here.
“Don’t move, little one!” her rescuer said. “I’ll be back!”
Beyond her exhaustion and sheer numbness, her heart fluttered with joy. Slowly, she raised her head to say something… but it was not daddy. It was a knight.
A pegasus, dressed in golden armor, frantically sifted through a pile of burning debris. His coat was grey, smeared with strokes of black soot, and his mane was two-toned blue. He looked sick and sleepy, just like mommy, but he moved with the importance of a hero.
The Maiden’s knights were going to save her after all!
A roar, too loud to ignore, interrupted Rose’s thoughts. She blinked the ash out of her eyes, turned her head, and saw it.
Before her, standing at the head of the decimated church, was a demon, a living bonfire given physical form. Its mane and tail were aflame, its coat pulsated with twisted veins of orange. Worst of all, its eyes were a piercing, pupilless white, and they were looking straight at her.
It was a monster, straight from the storybooks. It was an alicorn.
Rose stayed frozen in place, but to her surprise, the alicorn did not seem to care. It blinked and turned away from her, extending its wings and crouching, preparing to rise in the air. Fiery power seemed to gather at the base of its hooves. The air wavered with heat, and somehow, Rose knew the energy would not be contained for long.
She tore her gaze away and looked weakly about. Where was her knight?
She spotted him easily. He stood only a few feet away, and was shouting at the alicorn monster. It did not seem to hear him. He tried again, and again, to no avail. The fire gathered around it further.
The knight looked at Rose, horror in his eyes.
Quick as lightning, the knight dashed towards her, wings extended, grunting as he tackled her. In one fluid motion, he wrapped his body around hers and pulled her in tight with his arms. They hit the ground hard. One of his wings shot into the air above them, forming a living shield. His light-grey feathers rippled in the heat.
The sound of an explosion tore through the air. Rose could hear a pair of wingbeats, mingled with the shriek of rushing fire.
A moment later, the flames engulfed them both.
**********
Celestia woke up with a scream.
The sound of frantic, scuffling hooves filled the air, and a moment later she found herself surrounded by nearly a dozen others, all keeping a cautious distance and casting her wary looks.
Her scream subsided just as suddenly as it began, but the terror within her did not. Her eyes, wide and bloodshot and full of fear, flicked madly back and forth between them. What were they doing here? What was she doing here? Why was she…
Celestia looked down at herself. She was lying on her back in some sort of small bed, divested of all clothing and armor, save for a soft, billowing white blanket. She grabbed the edge of it with both hooves and pulled it up tighter to her chest until it was just underneath her chin. Her upper body was propped up by pillows. Splayed over her shoulders were locks of her pink mane, all tangled and messy, rife with knots. Her white fur was matted in some places and even somewhat lacking in others, with pink skin vaguely showing through, but overall she looked and felt cleaner than perhaps she had the right to be.
Her gaze wandered back up. A cloth ceiling was above her, rippling gently in the wind. It was small and windowless, but by the dim light and the slight chill in the air she could tell it was either early morning or dusk. Aside from the soldiers surrounding her bed, she seemed to be the sole occupant of the tent.
Most of her guests seemed to be armed or armored, and another few looked like doctors. She noted that nopony had actually drawn a weapon, or done anything at all really. However, each of them seemed to be standing on edge, as if unsure whether to regard Celestia with hostility or sympathy.
The feeling was mutual. She eyed them with suspicion and fear, blood still racing in her veins. They simply stood by and watched, waiting for her to do something.
Well what did they expect her to do? She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out save for a fearful croak. They all seemed to tense up at the noise, but nopony moved. She shifted a little under her covers, and realized her joints and limbs were terribly sore, some in ways she had never felt before. Her jaw felt especially tight, as if her teeth had been locked and grinding for together hours on end. This tent might have been a prison for all it mattered, and her blanket a binding chain.
Ten seconds drifted slowly by as she eyed her company. She knew all of them, she realized. Sweetcorn, Acier, Moonstruck, North Star, Cheesecake… all comrades, soldiers or physicians from the battalion.
Seeing the familiar faces, she tried to calm herself. Her wide eyes relaxed just a bit. Her limbs, which were stiff as a board, loosened up. As Celestia relaxed, her company seemed to do the same. And yet, though the tension eased, she could see it in their faces and feel it in her own heart that it was far from absent. Why did she feel so… bothered?
The ponies around her looked just as, or perhaps even more curious than her.
Eventually, she opened her mouth, and this time managed to speak. Her voice was dry, and cracked midway through the sentence.
“What happened?”
With one accord, their expressions shifted from cautious to somber. They exchanged wistful, knowing glances, and yet all of them seemed to be at a loss for words, as if she had somehow uttered the explanation to her own question. Though the inquiry was simple enough, Celestia suspected the answer was not so easy.
The sound of fluttering canvas came from the far end of the tent, and a few heads turned. Celestia heard heavy hoofsteps thumping steadily across bare ground, and she instantly knew who it was. The group of soldiers wordlessly parted before her to make way for the most recent visitor. Apple Crumble, loosely clothed in an unbuttoned red commander’s jacket, stepped into view.
His eyes met Celestia’s, a contemplative, unknowable expression on his face. He stroked his beard, hummed deep in his throat. Celestia unconsciously tried to scoot away in her bed, though there was nowhere to go. After what seemed like ages, Crumble spoke.
“What happened, sunshine?” he repeated, his voice rumbling beneath his thick beard. His hoof fell away from his face, and his eyes locked onto hers.
“You tell me.”
**********
“So you reached your full potential.”
“Hmm?” Princess Celestia took pause and tilted her head, casting a curious gaze towards her student. “That’s an odd thing to say.”
Twilight suddenly looked inexplicably sheepish, her ears drooping a bit before she answered, a nervous, lopsided grin on her face.
“Well,” she started slowly, “you excelled at hoof-to-hoof combat, and your skill in flight sounds as though it was passable by military standards. And then this. Powerful magic. You finally had the unique abilities of all three races.” The unicorn’s features brightened up. “But of course, your strongest area was magic, by far! I should have known.”
“My strongest area?” The princess repeated. Slowly, she relaxed against one corner of her chair. “I think you misunderstand, Twilight.”
“I mean, sure, it was a wild surge,” Twilight continued, undeterred, “but even the most powerful unicorns get those. Especially the most powerful unicorns.” She smiled, her face alighting with a mix of embarrassment and pride. “Remember when I was a filly? I completely lost control during the entrance exam for the academy. I turned my parents into cacti for pony’s sake! If you didn’t show up when you did, who knows how many ponies would’ve been turned into desert plants?”
A small smile tugged at the corners of Celestia’s mouth. Yes, she remembered. In the eternal perspective of things, it seemed as though it had happened only yesterday. That had been an interesting day; a good day. But…
Twilight’s voice lowered a bit, sobriety coming back over her. “Who knows what kind of harm I could have caused? You just didn’t have anypony to help you control it, like you helped me. And even without anypony to help,” she continued, her eyes twinkling with admiration, “you managed to maintain enough self-control to defeat an entire army.”
Despite her mild surprise, a part of the Princess had been expecting this response from her student, and her rebuttal was already articulated in her mind and hanging on the edge of her tongue. She leaned forward a small ways to speak, drew in a short breath, looked at her beloved pupil…
…and stopped. No sound came out. Twilight just sat there, waiting patiently, that admiring gleam still dancing in her eyes.
An odd thought struck the Princess.
What if I simply let her believe that?
Twilight Sparkle had always been the best of students – not just her best student, but likely one of the best students anywhere, in any time, under any teacher. Twilight herself would surely have scoffed at the idea, humbly asserted she was just another curious pony in pursuit of knowledge, but Celestia knew better. The Princess had been alive for a long, long time, and she knew; the young mare was a genius. Always willing to learn, to challenge ideas, to change her mind. The perfect student.
Her reward was twofold: she gained knowledge, which was its own reward, but more than that, Twilight craved approval. Not just anypony’s approval, Celestia noted, but hers especially. Twilight loved to know she was doing things right, and hated when she was doing things wrong, and hated even more when her image of perfection crumbled. Celestia was not just her mentor, she was her role model.
By Celestia’s own design, Twilight wanted to be just like her.
Her brother was captain of the guard. Her personal tutor was the Princess of the Sun. Even her foalsitter had been royalty. All by design. All to reinforce her craving for perfection.
One day, a few weeks before summer solstice, Twilight broke down, an occurrence that was happening with increasing regularity. The princess realized something. That craving had never been healthy.
Her plans had changed then and there. Celestia decided she could still undo the damage she had caused, mold her student into something else, something better. Her tests would help Twilight learn to accept her flaws, handle stress, and make new friends. And, in time, Twilight would hear the story of how she had done the same.
Even still…
Scenarios and second thoughts played out in her mind.
“Indeed,” she said, “With this newfound power, I conquered the armies of Discord. And eventually, with the help of Luna and the elements, Discord himself. From that time onward, Equestria has always been under our care.”
The turning point of her tale would soon be upon them. The image of a helpless, misunderstood, amnesiac underdog was already fading. Even now it was close, like a pane of dirty glass only barely obscuring the image on the other side. Soon, the glass would be shattered; she would be in full view, naked and alone, not standing on the pedestal of gold she had been hinting at over the past thousand years. Where a hero should have stepped up, as it would have been in a proper story, there stood just another pony. Where an inspiring tale of victory should have been, there were only choices and mistakes and consequences.
“Oh,” Twilight said, smiling, believing her lie wholesale. It was far too easy to deceive her. “So how long did it take to retake the other cities?” Celestia answered her in perfect detail, citing the story she had crafted over a millennia, knowing full well that the best lies were merely half-truths.
Celestia always, always received the benefit of the doubt from her beloved student. Not that she had needed it very often. But even now, with that metaphorical glass becoming ever more transparent, Twilight was willing to believe in the goodness of her mentor. Celestia could still salvage this, if she wanted to.
But…
Eventually, their study session ended. It only took one more night after that to tell the rest of the story. Twilight wrote it all down, compiled it, and published it for ponies everywhere to read – “The Early Life of the Princess of the Sun”, she called it. Everypony loved it, loved her for writing it, and loved the Princess for her bravery.
Twilight went on with her life feeling proud, not having learned a single thing.
In the long run, who would it be more painful for? Was Celestia willing to endure that pain? Was her student willing to understand?
She had her reasons for telling this story – it was not solely for Twilight’s sake. And yet, she felt it important that her student knew the truth. Perhaps that was the most important reason of them all.
Eventually, Twilight became a princess herself. But she had forgotten it was okay to be imperfect. For centuries to come, she always wondered what was wrong with her. Other ponies tried to help, but they didn’t understand, she reasoned. They weren’t immortal, they weren’t royalty, they didn’t know.
The Princess took another composed breath.
Celestia could have told her, but she did not. She was afraid of breaking that strongest of bonds – but it was a bond founded upon deceit. Which would hurt her more, she wondered: the lie, or the truth?
“It wasn’t magic, Twilight.”
The smile faded from the unicorn’s face, replaced by a hesitant frown, as if perhaps she had not heard correctly. “What?”
Painful or not, it had to be done. Sacrifice was something she had long since come to appreciate. Perhaps it was simply her turn once again. How could she expect Twilight to overcome that craving for a perfect image, if she could not do it herself?
“What I just described – the part of me, the fiery alicorn – was not magic. Far from it.” Her tone was even, her expression calm.
Twilight scowled in confusion. “But you… you breathed fire, and flew around on fiery wings, and toppled buildings, and blew things up, and…” She looked back down at her notes, her eyes flicking back and forth as she skimmed through them. “I don’t know, a bunch of other things.” She looked back up and tilted her head, staring into the Princess’s eyes. “How is that not magic?”
“It isn’t magic in the traditional sense,” Celestia responded. She glanced out of a nearby window and seemed to ponder for a moment before responding. “Let me ask you a question, Twilight. What is the most powerful magical artifact known to ponykind?”
It was so easy, she almost wondered if it was a trick question. In any case, she recognized the Princess’s tone; Twilight was about to learn something, regardless of her answer. She responded immediately.
“The Elements of Harmony.”
“Correct.” Celestia nodded. Her student smiled, even at this small victory, and she could not help but give an amused smile back. “And how do the Elements of Harmony work? Describe, in a few sentences, what makes them powerful.”
This was why she always studied before class. Twilight smiled. The answer came easily.
“The Elements feed off of each other,” she said confidently, her hooves waving indistinctly in the air as she tried to pantomime her words. “The closer they are physically, the closer the wielders are ‘spiritually’, and the more ‘in tune’ each wielder is with her respective Element, the more powerful the final output is.”
It was a definition Twilight had come up with on her own, but Celestia supposed it was more or less correct. “So if you had to describe their energy source in a single word, what would you say it was?”
Twilight looked to the corner of her eyes in thought. A single word? She scoured her brain, filing through the tens of thousands of words in her vocabulary to find the right one.
“Harmony?” she guessed, looking back to the princess.
Celestia’s brows raised a hair’s breadth, and she looked more intently. She was looking for another answer, Twilight knew.
“Friendship?” Twilight offered.
Celestia smiled. “Correct. Both of those things, truthfully. Friendship. Harmony. And love, of course. Powerfully positive emotions, one and all. The correct application of these things can result in a magic so powerful, nothing can stop it, not even the God of Chaos himself. You, personally, have witnessed this.”
Twilight nodded, not bothering to write it down. She already knew it, after all. But her attention was undivided, regardless.
“This principle is not limited to the Elements, either. The stronger your love and friendship, the stronger your magic. You could say friendship is magic.”
Twilight nodded emphatically. Of course, there was strength to be had in practice and sheer talent – were it not so, the first sixteen years of her life had been wasted – but...
“Friendship can be powerful,” Twilight stated simply.
“Indeed it can,” Princess Celestia agreed. “So believe me when I say, turning into that thing was not an act of magic. In a way, what I described to you is the farthest thing from magic there is.”
Twilight blinked, and frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“That’s okay,” Celestia assured. “Think of it like this. How did you feel when you first used the Elements of Harmony?”
Twilight pursed her lips, and looked up, bringing to mind her first night in Ponyville. How had she felt? Happy, excited, elated, accepted; her heart was warm, and for a few perfect moments, everything was right the world. She had been right where she needed to be, doing exactly what she needed to do, with exactly who she needed to do it with; those five mares who, in that moment, shared a bond stronger than could be described, and had been the best of friends forever after.
In a word: “Wonderful.”
Celestia nodded, smiling at the serenity on her student’s face. “Friendship is the true nature of magic. Never forget it.”
Twilight nodded. Her brows furrowed as she looked back to her mentor. “I won’t.”
“Good.” Slowly, the smile faded from the Princess’s face, and she took a deep breath.
“Fear. Pain. Loathing. Confusion. Hatred. Bloodlust. And above all, a severe desire for revenge – a desire that, at the time, I didn’t even understand, but was desperate to act upon.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “These were the things I felt. Imagine, if you can, the very antithesis of the Elements of Harmony; chances are, that hellfire is very close to what you see.”
Twilight frowned. “I see Discord.”
Celestia gave a strange, sideways smile, which appeared to be more of a grimace. “Yes, you would think that, wouldn’t you?”
Twilight’s frown stayed frozen in place. She was unsure how to respond. Nevertheless, the princess continued.
“Powerful as it may have been,” she began, “do you suppose what I was doing was true magic?”
“Maybe not…” Twilight said, her gaze trailing off to the side for a moment. “But ponies use magic all the time, even when they’re feeling all those things. There’s no possible way any unicorn is feeling love at the moment they start firing spells meant to… well, to kill things. Besides, power is power, right? If it won you the battle…”
Twilight’s words died in her throat. She trailed off and looked away blushing, suddenly feeling as though she had gone too far.
“No, you’re right Twilight,” the princess said, showing a sad, half-smile. “You bring up an excellent point. We debated this very thing, time and time again. How did that power come to be? Was it fear? Or bravery? Was it simply the shock of battle? More importantly – after singlehandedly turning the tide of battle, did it even matter?”
“Does it?” Twilight asked.
Celestia’s gaze suddenly became degrees more intense. Hard lines appeared on her forehead and her brows furrowed, for a moment betraying the age behind the ageless beauty. Her eyes narrowed, giving her whole expression a sharpness that normally it lacked. The change was slight, but almost seemed to dissipate the comforting aura surrounding her.
Suddenly, Twilight became strangely aware of just how big, strong, and absurdly powerful Princess Celestia was. Of course, she had always known, but the times were few and far between when she was actually mindful of it. She squirmed in her seat, fighting the urge to back away from her teacher’s dominating presence.
After what seemed like ages, Celestia spoke.
“You tell me.”
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Something tells me I won't be able to read this entire thing in one sitting. (289,940 Words)
ALL of my likes! Take Them!
You know a story's good when you stop playing your brand new Playstation 4 just to read the new chapter.
Ooh, getting all philosophical on us, eh? And yes, Twilight does need to think about this.
OMG Update
That price of grace reference.
I see the mission is influencing this story in more ways than one...
Wow! This chapter was amazing. I love the way you are showing how Celestia is using her own ethical development to train Twilight, and that she's willing to do so even at the cost of risking her relationship with her student.
Yeah, this one of the best characterization of Princess Celestia there's ever been. That last part with Celestia and Twilight breaths so much life into present-day Celestia that she feels real. Really baddass, that is.
I don't think that Celestia has ever adequately answered that question, even after her millennia of life. What she does know is that, yes, good came from that day... but there were also the friendly and civilian casualties. The fact is that I doubt Celestia would ever be able to describe a Nightmare as a good thing. I wonder if she found Rose's body herself?
Delicious exposition and characterization. Your Celestia has to be the best.
It's a shame Celestia will never be this cool in the show. She's just a cardboard cutout.
I'm not exactly sure how you managed to stop that whole child thing from going overboard like say Mass Effect 3 with that one child who died right at the beginning, but you did it just right. It felt real and raw, instead of someone yelling "feel sad damnit!"
Others have said this chapter is philosophical, and I'm inclined to agree, but it isn't heavy handed. I'm so glad you almost always avoid heavy handed messages, because there is little I find more repulsive. It's one of the reasons I could never get into Background Pony. The purple prose was too over the top for me.
All in all, this is a really good chapter. I was a smidge confused on the whole hypothetical scenario thing at first, but maybe that was just me. Sure it was in Italics, but I had forgotten that isn't always the case with dialog in this story.
3442657 I disagree, but If you like Goldenblood good for you. There are a lot of things I enjoy in PH
3496035
Yes! I am very pleased somebody caught that.
Interesting. Twilight is quite blind to how things are sometimes or so it seems.
3509386
Twilight seems blind, but if you think about it she cant even imagine worse things, the worst thing she has ever seen happen is a severely weakened Discord for a few hours. She has never seen destruction that cant be repair is a few days or death, there are no "real" monsters left.
Even the guardian of the gates of Tartarus acts as a puppy, someone had to lock up the monsters and train the guard.
I feel bad for Celestia she needs to decide how to destroy Twilight's innocent view on life and the image of Celestia the all knowing god.
Great chapter and a late WELCOME BACK.
This story is going in my personal Archive. My collection of very special stories that detail events Equestrian lore and history. One of my personal "goals" is to develop a personal construction of Equestria that sticks to canon, but also incorporates a large amount of fanon. In my opinion, this is an excellent portrayal of the "War of Madness" as you have called it, a point in pony history we have only glimpsed very briefly at. This story is amazing, and I will be looking forward to updates.
-C.Storm
Hmmm... With the explanation Celestia gave, it seems to me she practically became the embodiment of Wrath. Seems to fit, at least in my mind.
*Waits for next chapter with baited breath.*
So glad to know this is back, I almost entirely left FimFiction when it stopped and returned to find it up again :D This is easily one of favourite stories on this site! Amazing job :D
favored by a writer who I like *check*
interesting concept *check*
28+ chapters long with no end in sight *hellz ya!*
*clears calendar* midnight reading marathon here I come! Eyesight, don't fail me now!
3816215
You know, I'm not sure. I also swear I've heard it before, but I can't seem to attribute it to anyone. Even searching the web for it seems inconclusive.
Hey, urban moose,
would you happen to know how thick this would be if what was printed out. How many pages would presume it to be....
3843379
694 pages exactly.
How do I know that, you may ask? Keep an eye on my blog, and I'm sure you'll find out sooner or later...
3846696
Certainly not because I printed copies a while back. That would be silly.
3848738
Shhh! ...That one doesn't count.
denver.mylittlefacewhen.com/media/f/rsz/mlfw10401_medium.jpg
How's it coming?
4002280
I'm still trying to squeeze in time for writing though!
Slowly. Painfully. (But I guess I don't need to tell you that). Life has been extraordinarily busy as of late.
4004077 I just needed something good to update and yours was the first I thought of that hadn't posted recently
4004077
Glad to know its coming along.
4761653
Fun fact: In the original outline for this story, Clover was not nearly as important as she is now, and her personality was originally going to be, well, Twilight's. As the outline became a little more developed, Clover became a bigger and bigger part of the story, and I couldn't bear to have her simply be a clone. (Though, apparently I hadn't quite reached that conclusion soon enough, seeing as her coat and mane colors are indeed the same as Twilight's.)
Thanks for the comments, I hope you continue enjoying the story! Carry on, you crazy Dutchman!
4777518 I know that. I was talking about the way the characters were being described.
Hey, Moose? Can you tell us when T.S.a.H.F. next chapter is coming out?
4785934
I am going to make a blog about it soon, so keep an eye out.
(Don't worried, it's not cancelled or anything.)
4786450
Excellent/
dhshejfjsncjrjsnr
When will you be back?
5276928
As soon as I can be.
I know that's a pretty frustrating answer but it's really all I can say for now.
3584636
(I think I'm gonna have to kick Moose's butt soon)
I remember this... and I'll be waiting eagerly to see if you continue once you get back... wonder if I can find that old timer that one guy set up way back in the comments...
I recently found this story and had to give it a quick read. I have quite enjoyed what is available and hope that sometime it returns to production.
The world building has grabbed my imagination with an iron grip leaving me wondering what will happen next and how.
6002372
Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it!
I've actually started writing more regularly again. The chapters may not come out as quickly as they once did, but come they will...
I'm going to use this chapter to comment on the foundation of the story, and how it's become a bit confusing for me. The present time sections take place with a mixed point of view, switching between Celestia and Twilight's thought process (and maybe spike as well, I've forgotten), which is perfectly fine. However, the past time sections, which make up the vast majority of the story, are also told with a mixed point of view, switching between Celestia, Lucky, Cotton, and a few others. At the same time, the story is supposedly being told by Celestia to Twilight. It's never been explicitly stated if we are hearing the same story that Twilight is, and until this chapter it wasn't as nearly as heavily implied. Now we see no reaction whatsoever on Twilight's part to what we have just read, replaced by praise for the version of the story Celestia told her.
I find myself asking what the point of the Twilight sections is. I'll admit that I enjoyed Celestia's thought process as she decided not to lie to Twilight, but overall most of the present tense sections have been lackluster compared to the past. They aren't really a framing device, and we don't spend a great deal of time on them. We also can't really gauge Twilight's reaction to the story very well, when we don't know what she's heard and what she hasn't heard.