After a new spell far exceeds Twilight's expectations, an encounter with a strangely resigned Princess Luna leaves her more than a little uneasy. The veil lifts, and Twilight soon finds herself staring into the face of a disillusioned goddess.
Twilight's success in her new spell is short-lived when an unforeseen effect leads to a nighttime visit from Princess Luna. Noticing something amiss, Twilight tests the waters of conversation, trying to uncover the source of the princess's melancholy--and succeeds, all too well. Twilight soon finds herself privy to tales of Luna's past and the jarring truth of her nature with respect to that of her much adored sister. The encounter leaves Twilight shaken, setting her on the path, with the aid of her new spell, to help Luna through her difficult time. The prized student finds herself distracted, however, drawn back time and again to the one question looming over all the rest: how to console a goddess who's lost faith in her purpose--and even more unnerving, in existence itself.
"I still don't like it…" Spike grumbled, crossing his arms in point.
"It'll be fine, Spike. I promise," Twilight told him one more time. On a stand in front of her, a book sat closed, a relatively small one compared to her usual fair: a foal's book, designed to help teach reading. She closed her eyes, controlled her breathing, and began the mental preparations for her latest attempt at a new spell.
Designed to allow the user to capture, sort, and absorb the information from a book or scroll, the spell required copious amounts of focus and processing power to work properly. Or at least, she assumed it did. In theory, it did.
A light encompassed her horn, then reached out and swallowed the book on the stand; her brow tensed under the strain for a few seconds, half a minute, a minute until finally her eyes popped open with a deep breath. The light dissipated, and she stood silent for a moment, eyes darting to and fro, scanning invisible somethings—data. They stopped with a blink, and she sat with a sigh.
"No good, huh?" asked Spike.
She held her head in her hooves, rubbing her temples. "It's just… Ugh…"
Spike approached her from behind and put a scaly hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"
Twilight took another deep breath, then let it out slowly, very slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."
"Look, Twilight, I told you: If it doesn't work, you shouldn't keep—"
"But it does work, Spike. It does," she insisted, clearly arguing with herself as much as her assistant. "It just… I don't know… It's like trying to sort through the bombardment of information ends up in this…sensory overload, or something."
"Bombardment? I thought it wasn't insti…instinct…"
"Instantaneous. And it's not. Or at least, it shouldn't be. It's not supposed to be, but the amount of micro-micro management involved is just… Once any kind of information starts coming in at all, the attention I have to divert to absorbing it, to making sense of it is too much. I lose focus on maintaining the spell itself. The rate of acquisition slips and snowballs, and suddenly everything's coming in faster than I keep up and I can't stop it. I actually think if it were instantaneous it might be easier."
"So…do that then," Spike offered proudly––there, problem solved.
Twilight just shook her head. "I wouldn't even know how to try. Instantaneous acquisition has been the holy grail of a lot of magical scholars, better than me."
"Aw, nopony's better than you, Twilight."
Twilight smiled at him. "Thanks, Spike."
Spike glanced at the book. "So…you gonna try again? You want me to maybe get a smaller book?"
Twilight got up and stretched, deciding 46 tries was her limit for the time being. "Not right now. I'll try again tomorrow. I think I'll go for a walk, stretch my legs a little. I have been inside all day."
"You sure? It's almost dark," Spike noted.
"I know. At least it'll be cooler." She trotted up to the door.
"Okay then… How long will you be gone? Should I wait up?"
Twilight giggled as she stepped outside. "That depends."
"Depends on what?"
"Are you tired?"
Spike shrugged. "Kinda. Watching you work all day really takes it outta me."
"Well then go to bed, silly."
Spike raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms again.
"Goodnight, Spike." Twilight smiled again and closed the door after her.
After one good huff, Spike waved it off.
Owlowicious adjusted himself on his perch. "Hoo."
"Didn't ask you," Spike quipped, on his way upstairs.
Outside, Twilight strolled along at the pace of a pony with no particular place to be, just out enjoying the evening as the sun sank slowly in the west and painted the sky in watercolor shades of orange and red. A light breeze blew over her and brushed gently against her mane; she breathed it in.
She walked, past the homes and the buildings which grew sparser and sparser, until finally she found herself on the edge of town. She walked for a while more, then made her way up a small hill far from Ponyville and lay down on the cool grass, legs tucked in and tail wrapped neatly around, watching the sky and waiting for the night to come so maybe she could enjoy some constellations.
Peace.
Quiet.
Calm.
Little pleasures.
And then, her ears pricked up at a noise––one at first, then a few more––a twingy, twangy kind of noise from the side of the hill opposite the way she'd come. Curious, she got up to check it out and found a tent pitched down where the ground leveled out flat. She wandered over.
The soft, quiet melody of a guitar from the other side of the tent grew louder as she got closer. It calmed her somehow, the hopeful sound of it, and made her smile in kind. Then came a familiar voice, and she stopped to listen rather than risk giving herself away.
Obviously under the impression she was totally alone, Applejack spent the next few minutes singing her song and pleasantly surprising Twilight where she stood listening in. The song told the story of a little colt practicing baseball alone, imagining himself in the last inning, best of the best with the game on the line, tossing the ball up and swinging as it came down; three times he tossed it, three times he swung with all his hope and might, and three times he missed. The song ended as the colt, rather than get discouraged at striking out, praised himself for pitching so well. The pace and lyrics fit Applejack's accent like a silk glove.
When the song finished, Twilight got closer. She poked her head around the tent, and Applejack sat up a bit, startled.
"H-Howdy there, Twi. What brings you out to these here parts?" Applejack seemed to briefly consider hiding her guitar, only to realize she had nowhere to go with it.
"Applejack, I didn't know you could play––and sing! Come to think of it, there was that one time..." Twilight moved closer into Applejack's makeshift campsite, complete with logs for seats and a small fire pit.
"Well, now look, Twilight, truth is I didn't know you was out there listenin'. Plenty of ponies in the Apple family play the fiddle for get-togethers and such, but as for this, it... Well it ain't exactly somethin' I like to go advertisin', if'n ya know what I mean. Kinda just…somethin' for me, ya know? Personal."
Twilight smiled reassuringly. "I understand."
"So if you could do me a favor and maybe…ya know…not go tellin' nopony?"
"I won't."
Applejack smiled. "Thanks, Twi."
"Sure. It's a shame, though. You have a great voice, and you play really well. It sounded really good."
Applejack seemed to laugh, adjusting her hat a bit; she pulled her guitar over her lap again and let her hoof drift down over the strings, one at a time. A sprig of wheat hung from her mouth. She chewed it idly once, switching it from one side of her mouth to the other. "Well, thankee kindly, but songs like that there one ain't really meant to be difficult."
"What are they meant for?"
Applejack looked up with a grin and a quick wink. "To sound good."
Twilight chuckled.
"So what are you doin' out here, Twilight?"
"Taking a walk," she said innocently.
Applejack looked up again. "A walk?"
"Mm-hm."
"Mite far for a walk, ain't it?" Applejack craned her neck around to look at the glow of Ponyville in the distance. "We ain't exactly close to home out here, sugarcube."
"It's nice to get away," said Twilight.
Applejack couldn't help but chuckle, forced to agree. "It is that."
"Plus, if you want to really see any stars, first you have to get away from all the lights."
"Stars, huh?"
"Yup. You don't like them?"
"Oh no, I do. Surely I do. Truth be told, I look at 'em myself from time to time. Hard not to, out here like this."
"Really? Do you know any constellations?" Twilight jumped at the chance.
Applejack thought for a second. "North star," she said, all she could come up with. "Does that count?"
Twilight giggled. "Do you come out here a lot?"
"Now and again, when I find the time. We're ahead for the season, so I thought I'd go ahead and treat myself, do a little campin'."
"Oh my, Applejack. Pampering yourself? Careful. I might have to tell Rarity."
Applejack laughed once. "You go right ahead, darlin'. And you tell Miss Rarity she's more than welcome to come out here and join me in pamperin' myself anytime she feels like."
Twilight saw the farm pony reach behind her log and emerge with a jug of something.
"Sip?" Applejack asked.
"What is it?"
"Apple family cider," she said proudly; she shook the jug a bit, offering it.
"Cider? But I thought you sold out every—"
The corner of Applejack's mouth curved up into a sly smile. "Private stock."
"Oh really? What's the occasion?"
"Well now, what's pamperin' without Apple family cider?" Applejack winked again.
Twilight graciously took the jug, but then stopped and put two and two together––the half empty jug and the single opening. She looked squeamishly at Applejack. "Did you…happen to…?"
"'Fraid so, sugarcube. As you may've noticed, I…weren't exactly expectin' company. Sorry."
"No, don't worry about it." Twilight stared at the jug a moment more before summoning her conviction, putting the glass spout to her lips, and taking a swig; the cider hit her tongue, and she cheered right up.
Another swallow or two and she traded the jug back to a pleased Applejack, who took a swig herself.
"Thanks," said Twilight.
"Absolutely. One very important thing about this here cider: It tastes even better when you're sharin' it with friends."
They sat together, and eventually, after some initial embarrassment, Applejack played again. She even sang—trail songs, as she called them, some of them new, passed around at reunions, others old and passed down in the family since nopony knew when.
Once the sun went down, Applejack stopped playing and lit her campfire. She sat down again after. "So, how was it? Seein' as you're just about the only pony's ever heard it, reckon I oughtta at least ask your thoughts."
"It was good," Twilight said, stuck for words. "It's just... It's... I mean, does it always have to sound so sad?"
"Sad?" Applejack nearly laughed.
"Well, yeah...kinda..." Twilight said sheepishly.
Applejack hung her head and scratched underneath her hat. "Well, shoot. No, I... I reckon it don't, sugarcube." She gave a heavy sigh. "I reckon it don't..."
"Yeah, it—" Applejack started but stopped. "Consarn it, no. No it ain't all right."
A look of concern came over Twilight. "What's wrong? Did something happen? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay. No, nothin' happened. I mean yes it did, but— I mean nothin'...nothin' happened, if'n that's what ya mean. Nothin' bad."
"So what...?"
"Well, okay." Applejack cleared her head and detailed the events calmly. "We's at home. Apple Bloom starts askin' Granny about the zap apples again—I don't know why—so Granny gets out her scrapbook and starts showin' her pictures and such. Then of course Apple Bloom starts askin' about some of them other ponies in the pictures, so Granny gets out her reunion scrapbook to tell her more and..."
"And?"
Applejack seemed to think, like she was trying to put together how to say it. "I..." she got out one syllable before stopping and shaking her head once, like she just couldn't rightly get it out.
"Applejack? It's okay. Talk to me."
Applejack looked at her with a stern, trouble look, closed her eyes with another deep breath, and finally just let the words come. "Every time I look at them scrapbooks, every time I see her there in them pictures—"
"Granny."
Applejack nodded, otherwise uninterrupted. "All bright and youthful like, and I look at her lookin' at them pictures, smilin' that smile, hoof tremblin' to turn the page while she talks about her life, I just... Her life, Twi. Her whole life, and she just... And I wonder, I look at the filly smilin' there in them pictures, mane all done up, and I wonder if she ever... Did she ever think about...?"
"Being old?"
"Consarn it!" Applejack kicked the dirt, at a loss for how she felt or why. "I mean, does it scare her? Does she think about it? Did she think about it back then when they was takin' them pictures, that one day she'd be sittin' and lookin' at 'em and just... Nothing left to do but...but wait for...wait to... I can't even look at 'em no more. I can't even look at them pictures, seein' her then and seein' her now and..."
Twilight's eyes softened, and she moved to sit beside her friend. "Applejack, is this really about pictures?"
Applejack's muscles relaxed. "No." Her shoulders fell, and she took off her hat and shook her head, holding her hat close for comfort. "Every day it's worse, Twi. Every day somethin' else, somethin' new: takin' longer to get places, goin' into rooms and not knowin' why, forgettin' things. I used to love it when she showed me them pictures, my face light up just like Apple Bloom's, but now I...every time I see her, I..."
"You worry how many more times she'll be there...to show them..."
Tears welled up in Applejack's eyes, though she concealed them masterfully. "A few weeks back, I hear something round about midnight, ya know? So I get myself up, I go downstairs and she's there, cookin' in the kitchen, askin' my momma to 'Hurry up with them eggs'. Last night I find her all dolled up waitin' down in the livin' room. I tell her to come up to bed, and she fights me every step of the way, arguin' with me she's got to be ready, got to be waitin' for her date when he shows up. Her date, Twi. My grandpappy. He's... Since before I's born, he's..." Unable to stop herself, she let out a sniffle and started to tremble, presumably crying, hiding behind her hat. "Oh... What am I supposed to do...?"
Twilight put a foreleg around Applejack and pulled her closer, ignoring how awkward it felt—Applejack, the rock, the plow-pulling, apple-bucking unshakable voice of reason herself, reduced to tears. "You...do the best you can, Applejack," she offered, the best advice she could really give. "You be there for her. Help her. Take care of her like she took care of you and all the other ponies in her life. Now it's... Now it's her turn."
"What if it gets worse?" Applejack's voice mumbled miserably from behind her hat, broken through by another short, restrained sob.
"Then it does," said Twilight. "And we'll...cross that bridge when we come to it..."
"We...?"
"Well, you know what I— I mean of course I'll do everything I can to—" Twilight stopped when she thought she felt Applejack laugh a bit.
"I know." Applejack sniffle-laughed again, getting out from under Twilight with a sniffle. She wiped her eyes and let out a long breath, like she couldn't believe the state she was in. "Land sakes, Twi, I truly am sorry. Here ya come all the way out here to get away from whatever it is ya come to get away from, and what do I do? Sure as shootin', I go and pull ya into what I come out here to get away from. Best friend in all of Equestria right here, ain't it the truth." She seemed to recover, or at least to get a good start on it.
"Applejack, I asked. I wanted you to tell me what was wrong—"
"Past tense," Applejack pointed out jokingly.
"Want you to tell me what's wrong because I want to help you, because you're my friend. Do you… Are you okay?"
Applejack nodded slowly. "Reckon it did help, tellin' somepony, gettin' it out like that the way I did."
"You're always right there when we need somepony to talk to. The least we can do is be there for you, too."
"Thanks, Twi. Although I...I truly am sorry about all that."
"A—"
"I know you're gonna tell I don't need to be sorry, that it's part of bein' a friend to be there when a friend needs somepony to be there. I know that. Believe me, I do. Just the same, I am, and I need you to know that. Square?"
"Square." Twilight smiled.
"Okay then. Hoo-wee." Applejack gave an awkward laugh, fanning herself with her hat a few times before putting it back on.
"Will you be all right?"
"I reckon," Applejack admitted. "It is life, after all. Ain't no way round it 'cept to...push on through." She leaned back, looking up at the night sky. "But starin' death in the face… Can't put it off no more, can't ignore it, keep pretendin' like it ain't there and ain't ever gonna be, it's… Well it's heavier than a cartful of apples, anyhow. Sometimes ya just need to…like ya just gotta—"
"Get away?"
"Yes, ma'am..."
They were quiet for a while, then got back to topics of idle conversation as the subject of Granny Smith slipped slowly to the backs of their minds as such subjects tended to do—lingering there behind everything else, every other thought and schedule and chuckle, too powerful, too terrible to be allowed any more than that: coping, a natural mechanism by which an inherently fragile mind might come to terms with a reality so cripplingly terrifying that it otherwise couldn't even be acknowledged. Life, as Applejack had called it.
Front or not, Applejack gradually returned to her usual self, while Twilight likewise did her best not to dwell on the sad truth she knew still haunted her friend behind the smile.
Time passed, until their conversation found its beginning.
"So what was it made ya come all the way out here, anyhow?" asked Applejack.
Twilight went about explaining her latest project, sparing Applejack the finer details.
"So…ya'll are tryin' to read without readin'? That about right?"
"Not ya'll, just me. And not without reading, just reading faster," said Twilight.
"And what, may I ask, would ya wanna go and do a thing like that for? Don't ya read fast enough already?"
"No! Don't you see?" Twilight said excitedly. "Normal reading is limited physically, by the muscles and the speed of the eyes––even photo-reading."
"And this spell of yours ain't?"
"No, not at all! I mean, in theory… Theoretically, the only constraints are the limits of the mind, the number of thought processes it can handle while still maintaining enough focus to keep control of the spell and the acquisition rate. But even that, if somepony were proficient enough in the spell, practiced it enough, controlling the acquisition rate could become something like muscle memory, something that didn't require any attention at all, so the entirety of mental processing power could be devoted wholly to analyzing, sorting, and absorbing the new information––which in turn would only raise the cap of functional acquisition." Twilight stopped herself, remembering to breathe; she cleared her throat and gathered her composure. "In theory."
Applejack just stared at her; slowly, an eyebrow rose. "Uh-huh. Pardon my ignorance, but again: What exactly would ya wanna go and do a thing like that for?"
"Think of it, Applejack! Whole libraries absorbed in the time it would take to read a newspaper, and not just…not just skimmed but understood, completely internalized and integrated into existing knowledge and schemata, fit into place and…and…" She stopped again when she noticed Applejack failed to reciprocate her excitement. Quite the opposite, in fact. For a moment, she thought to compare it to poofing whole orchards into storage rather than spending weeks and months bucking trees, but a quick reminder of how much Applejack valued hard work over things like magic held her tongue. Making that comparison probably would've just dug her a deeper hole.
Luckily, Applejack put on a smile and gave her an out before she had to think of something else to say. "Well shoot, sugarcube. If it makes you happy, I'm all for it. Just…take it easy, all right? Ya got somethin' of a tendency to go a mite…overboard…sometimes when yer eyes get that look in 'em."
"What look?"
"That look," said Applejack.
Twilight blinked. She had a look?
Applejack chuckled. "I'm gonna go gather me some more firewood."
Twilight looked up at the moon and gauged the time. "I should probably be getting back, myself. I didn't realize how late it was."
"Time flies." Applejack got up and stretched. "Sure I can't convince ya to stay? Can't say's I'm not enjoyin' the company. Soon time to get out my harmonica…"
Twilight considered with a smile. "Tempting…but I better get back. I told him not to, but Spike may have stayed up and I wouldn't want to worry him."
"All right then." Applejack trotted off a bit, stopped, and looked back. "Twi."
Twilight looked up from brushing off some barky remnants.
"Thanks. For listenin'. I do appreciate it."
"Anytime. And I do mean that, you know. Don't be afraid to talk to me, or any of the girls. We all care about you. We want to be there for you."
"I know. Uh…just the same…if ya could do me one more favor and not tell nopony what we talked about… Private business and such."
"Of course, Applejack."
"Thanks. Meet for lunch tomorrow, at the library? I should be comin' back through town about then."
"Sure."
"All right. I'll see ya tomorrow, then."
"See you tomorrow."
They parted, Applejack off one way for her firewood and Twilight the other headed for home.
An hour or so later, she arrived at the library––lights out, she noticed––cracked the door, and peeked inside.
Dark.
She smiled to herself; he had gone to bed after all.
She trotted quietly inside, closed the door after her, and got cleaned up. About to go to bed, she stopped at the urge to give her spell one more try before officially calling it a night.
She made her way downstairs and found the book from earlier still resting neatly on its stand; she positioned herself in front of it, closed her eyes, and tuned her breathing. Prepared, she let her focus flow through her horn and reach out to the book.
Her aura consumed the book, permeating it, thoroughly saturating each page and drawing the contents into her; the first bits of information breached her mind, a tiny needle piercing through, small at the point but…pushing…wider and wider the longer she continued…threatening to pull through more thread at once than she could handle, to tear the same hole it always had before and spiral out of her control. She pruned it back, raveling it as it came in, steadying it, smoothing it…
Then she reached the end.
Before she even realized it, the stream of data ended; the last bit of thread came through and raveled into place, but the hole remained open. Her link hadn't disconnected. The data stopped, but something else surged in––instantly, flooded her mind––a torrent of…light and...and sound that crashed into her head-on and bowled her over like a wave at the beach, tossed her around like a rag doll and knocked her into a daze.
Her vision went black, in her ears a constant, high frequency squeal, her body numb, just for a second before the connection destabilized and severed.
She sat there afterward, eyes locked forward into a distance far greater than the library wall should've allowed while the squealing in her ears subsided and her brain and subsidiary senses rebooted. Then she breathed, just once. Then again. Then the sound died off completely; she became aware again, back to normal. Well, normal enough to spin the wheels in her head trying to figure out what had happened.
Nothing had...gone wrong, exactly. The spell had worked perfectly, flawlessly. But then at the end, right when logically it should've terminated, something else...had... Something extra. Something...
Something.
She tried to remember exactly what had happened, and a sharp, momentary pain caused her to shut her eyes and cringe. Almost like it...like it was too...hard. Not difficult hard, scientific hard—hardness hard, like whatever it was, she...couldn't crack it, couldn't scratch it or break it apart to figure it out: a knot pulled too tight, or a jawbreaker she kept biting down on every time she tried to remember.
Putting it aside for now—maybe she would have better luck after some sleep and a little downtime to let it soak and soften up—she decided to clock out for the night. Still puzzled, she retreated upstairs to her bed and, eventually, to sleep.
* * *
Twilight sat alone at a desk in a shoebox apartment furnished otherwise only with a bed and a table. An unfamiliar green glow levitated a brush and dipped it into a cup of paint before going to work on the page in front of her. Strangely removed from herself, she watched the brush paint some basic scenery and a colt on one page, then the same colt running on the next page, then smiling and running faster on the next. On the next few pages, she painted the colt, the colt with a ball, the colt bouncing the ball…
After a while, she rose from her seat against her will, poured a glass of water, and drank it. She sighed, then went back to work. Images of an unfamiliar pony came to mind, the thought of rent, a slew of worries so jumbled she couldn't distinguish between them…
Back at the desk, she printed words in the book: See the colt. See the colt run. Run, colt, run!
A shining light tore a hole in space; Princess Luna emerged.
Suddenly, Twilight found herself able to move, torn from the body to which she'd been inexplicably glued a moment before. She stepped back, looked, and saw a green stallion working tiredly at the desk. Then she turned to Princess Luna, but even there, something seemed off. The lids of her eyes hung halfway closed––disinterested, unconcerned, without feeling.
Twilight shook her head, unable to figure out any of it. "Princess Luna, what's going on?" she asked finally.
"Dost thou not understand?"
Twilight thought harder; an idea clicked. "Am I…dreaming?"
"Indeed. Thou art asleep."
Twilight furrowed her brow at the princess. "Then…are you…?"
"We are real. Real enough. We are the keeper of the night. As such, our duties extend even to the dreams of our…subjects."
Twilight detected a hesitation, a pause before that last word.
"Tell us, student of our sister: How didst thou come to be in this place?"
Twilight went on to detail her latest experiment to the princess, her failures and her apparent, if not unusual, success before she'd gone to bed.
Luna contemplated a moment. "These are powerful magics, Twilight Sparkle. Dost thou understand where thou art?"
Twilight took a few moments to put the pieces together: the book she'd used in her tests, the book the stallion sat drawing on the desk; it became apparent when the realization donned on her.
Luna noticed. "Correct. Thou art in the mind of another––or more precisely, the memories attached to the tome whose knowledge thou didst siphon."
Twilight's ears splayed back and down, and she shrank before the princess in a panic. "I-I'm sorry, Princess. I didn't— I mean I never meant to—"
"Calm, child. Thou hast committed no wrong. We wish only to impress upon thee the gravity of the forces with which thou toyest, though thou art fully within thy sphere to do so––indeed, expected to do so, given thy weight and position."
Twilight's eyes darted to and fro a few times, trying to process whatever that meant. She looked up, unsure of her response. "Thank…you…?"
"Thank us not. We do only our duty––what little doth remain of't to be done. Dost thou comprehend the implications of thy studies in these matters?"
"You mean…assisted acquisition?"
Luna's head bowed in a slow, ever-so-slight nod, reminiscent of a judge. Its weight fell down upon Twilight in glaring contradiction to the princess's assurance to be calm.
A pressure settled into her chest, heart beating faster, a tenseness in her stomach, and Twilight tried to put together an answer she could say comfortably. But in the end, between her relative inexperience with the spell––and certainly these new facets of it––and the uneasiness in Luna's presence that she couldn't seem to shake, nothing came out; she turned her eyes up at Luna, realizing only after that she'd winced, like she feared being struck.
"Dost thou know how many of thy kin hath sought it before thee?"
Twilight bowed her head. "Y-Yes, Princess. Well not— I mean I don't know the number exactly, but I know it's…a lot."
"Indeed 'tis. Dost thou know how many succeeded even as far as thou hast here?"
No answer, Twilight looked up humbly—fearfully almost, as though on trial and expecting the gavel to come down.
Luna's gaze fell upon her. "Few."
Twilight averted her eyes again.
"It taketh remarkable skill to accomplish that which thou hast here, Twilight Sparkle, prized pupil of our sister, and a still more remarkable affinity to the mystic arts. An admirable feat, managed by less than could fill seats at table yonder. A craftsman leaveth his mark upon his work, be it tome or sculpture, tool or dwelling. Didst thou believe thy spell read the tome?"
Twilight considered, thinking quickly. It…had felt like reading, at least on her end, from her perspective, but…she supposed logically the spell couldn't have actually been reading words, per se. Although she hadn't really considered that before, hadn't even thought about it, since to her it had seemed like it…
"It doth not read, but siphons––touches upon and probes the essence of the object itself, not merely its knowledge, but its soul…its memory…a window into the heart and mind of its maker. We create nothing without imbuing in't a part of us. Thou understandst now, yes? The true depth of the sea whose waters thou hast tested this night?"
Twilight's heart raced, partly because it felt like she was being reprimanded or warned and partly because she really did get it, really did grasp it, the reality of it.
"Thy spell is not new. However, thou seest the reason why thou shalt not find it scrawled on any scrap of parchment. Its responsibility is not a thing to be taken lightly."
Briefly, the thought occurred to her to question why not write it down then, to warn ponies, but the forbidden fruit effect answered her quickly enough.
"Our sister doth place great faith in thee, as do we. We trust thou wilt honor this responsibility."
"I will, Princess," Twilight said respectfully, not sure yet whether or not she would even continue with her experiments in light of everything she'd just learned.
Luna nodded in acknowledgment. "Farewell then, Twilight Sparkle. Take care."
A ribbon of light tore open a new hole in space, and Luna turned to exit through it.
Intuition urged Twilight not to let her leave, finally breaking her free of her fear; she spoke up. "Princess!"
Luna stopped and looked over her shoulder.
Suddenly on the spot, Twilight realized she hadn't really...planned out anything to say. She quickly threw something together. "P— Um... Pardon my asking, Princess, but...is there something...wrong?"
Luna met eyes with her briefly, then turned forward and started walking; something about her demeanor beckoned Twilight to follow, so she did. Through the hole, they entered a black space; they somehow stood out against it, perfectly visible, and stood firmly although she failed to see what exactly they were standing on; it was all just black.
"Princess?" Twilight asked, taking in their new surroundings. "Where--?"
"Nowhere," said Luna. "The space in between, the astral abyss. From here we may sense the dreams of our subjects." She stopped, eyes forward, listening, seeing.
Twilight's brow rose. "All of them? At once?"
Another slight, slow nod. "Tell us, Twilight Sparkle: What is thy purpose?"
The question struck Twilight strangely. "Purpose, Princess?"
"The reason for thy being."
Twilight blinked a few times, blown away. How in Equestria was she supposed to answer that?
"Is't...knowledge? The pursuit of it? Or perhaps learning? Thou art indeed studious. Thou art gifted. Thou holdst a place of esteem amongst thy peers."
Not sure how or even if she should reply, Twilight remained silent.
"Clearly, even if thou dost not know't, thou dost serve some mortal purpose, or will someday. Thou wilt leave thy mark upon Equestria and, in that way, achieve some small amount of immortality in the minds of those who will follow thee and study thy works as thou studiest. Immortality...can there be any greater goal for a finite creature? Thou wilt achieve it. We are certain."
Silence.
"But then...what should be the purpose of one who is beyond such things, who is immortal?"
Oh dear.
Now Twilight interjected. "You raise the moon, Princess. You—"
"Thou mayest cook for thy family at thy mother's behest, but if thou didst not, would not thy mother still feed them?"
Twilight shook her head some, confused.
"For one thousand years, our sister raised our moon, and haveth now no reason to stop—except to offer us the responsibility, to bequeath to us a pet for which she could just as easily care."
Unable to argue, Twilight grasped for another straw. "You safeguard the dreams of—"
"Watch. We watch the dreams of our subjects, and occasionally intercede, though more for our benefit than those who we profess to assist—evenst thou, Twilight Sparkle. In time, thou wouldst have unraveled the truth of thy spell, without our interference. We swat flies that would as easily die of old age, that we might placate ourselves with some illusionary purpose. There was a time...when we did more..." Luna seemed to reminisce.
Listening intently, Twilight waited for her to continue; the empty moan of the abyss filled her ears in the interim.
"Prithee, what knowest thou of...nightmares?"
Unnerved by the nature of the question, given the asker, Twilight scrolled through her mental files and delivered the scientific definition of nightmare, in the dream sense, to the best of her ability.
"And thou believest they are more or less harmless?"
"Y— Yes...?" Twilight asked, more than answered.
"True enough. A single nightmare may not harm thee, and when thou wakest, 'tis gone." Luna took a breath, holding her chin up with a certain hint of pride as she spoke. "In the time before our corruption, our duties extended far beyond the moon and the perverted voyeurism which defineth them today. Thou spakest of safeguarding. Indeed, 'twas our charge: To stand here in the abyss before all manner of hideous nightmares and route them before they could reach the sleeping minds of our subjects, to draw them into ourselves so that our subjects would never have to know their horrors. We were a guardian. This was our purpose, and we failed in't."
A chill wriggled through Twilight's heart at the thought.
"'Tis true. A single nightmare may not harm, nor ten, nor a hundred, nor even a thousand. But a thousand, each night...scrambling to gnaw at the minds of peaceful dreamers...drawn to and held captive in a single body...each night, every night for generations... Well... Thou hast seen the result. All of Equestria hath seen...the result."
Twilight's heart sank. "Princess—"
"We were corrupted," Luna continued unabated, "failed in our charge, and so dutifully imprisoned. There we remained, until the day of our return, the day of our reckoning at the hooves of thee and thy comrades, and so cleansed. So...happy...were we then...so thankful...so hopeful—and then the truth: We could no longer see," she said with audible distain.
"See...Princess?" asked Twilight.
"See them."
"Nightmares?"
"Even now, they swarm us. We are certain of it. We feel them, their shadowed claws and bodies lurching ever onward... This...was our battleground..."
Twilight scanned the empty abyss, trying hard to imagine.
"Be not mistaken, student of the sun. The war rages. All around us, it rages. They clamor forth from the darkness—frantic, ravenous—eager to assault and infect the dreams of the unprepared, and we unable to halt their advance. But...as thou hast already observed, a single nightmare is, on its own, harmless. Still, 'twas our purpose: to grapple with them, to spare our subjects the wounds they might inflict. And now we are removed from it."
A sense of dread crept up in Twilight at hearing what sounded like a goddess having an existential crisis. Twilight bowed. "Forgive me, Princess, but...have you...talked to Princess Celestia about any of this?"
"We have," said Luna. "Our sister will not aid us in returning to the vanguard, and we would not ask't. We failed, lost ourselves chasing monsters in the darkness, and we see now the foolishness of our supposed purpose, how little even it truly mattered. No longer may we see our old enemies, but instead only truth, and we may not go back. We were so...thankful, to thee and thine for freeing us, for...giving us back our mind, and yet...though we harbor no ill will against thee—be assured, we do not—we...find ourselves wishing to be returned to our prison, to be stripped of our sanity once more and chained. 'Tis our...fondest wish, though our sister will afford us no such mercy. Insanity was...such a wonderful gift, in the face of meaningless eternity..."
"But...Nightmare Night, you... Didn't you have fun?"
The tiniest trace of a smile flickered on Luna's face, gone just as quickly. "We did. But fun is...fleeting. Short-lived. As are all things, we understand now." She glanced at Twilight, her expression, analyzing it and the thoughts it concealed. "Thou comparest us to our sister, warm and loving, and findest our coldness...strange. But thou forgetst: She is the day. She is the sun. She is warmth, and love. We...are not. The night is quiet, contemplative...lonely and cold compared to its sister. Likewise are we."
"But you have Princess Celestia. Surely she--"
"Will fade, in time."
Twilight's brow furrowed, her mouth drawn open as she tried to catch Luna's meaning.
Her confusion did not go unnoticed.
"Didst thou think not? Thou hast noticed our sister's size and age, yes? Compared to our own?"
Head spinning, Twilight gave a nod.
"Long-lived, yes. Truly. But not eternal."
Twilight attempted to speak, but the swirling mass of thoughts swimming around in her head just wouldn't come out in anything more than a stammering stutter of buts and shes.
"She is the day. She is the sun. One day, albeit far from now, our sister's sun will set one final time and fade, and her, her kingdom, and her ponies with't. The light will die, the warmth recede, and all things return to the natural state. Light is but a guest—seen through timeless eyes, even it a momentary comfort, finite and fleeting. In time, the night will inherit creation. In the absence of mortal things with which to toy, Discord, too, will wane, and we will be alone. Truly...alone. In time. Night—darkness—in the truest sense: the absence of all things..."
Twilight stood stunned, as though the scope of Luna's words had zoomed her so far out of herself that she couldn't even...wrap her head around it.
Luna glanced at her again, perhaps more sadly than before, with a short, quiet sigh. "Dost thou understand now the allure of insanity?"
"Princess, I..." Twilight dug deep for the right words, any words, but...everything she imagined saying just felt like tiny drops in a big lake: diluted quickly, gone, and ultimately worthless.
"Do not trouble yourself, Twilight Sparkle." Luna's eyes closed a moment, then opened partway. She seemed to relax some, or sadden; her voice lost its judgmental tone, its strength, its godhood. "It's not your nightmare to bear. All you have to do is...wake up."
Twilight lay awake a minute or two, running through it all in her head. Part of her didn't even want to…didn't want to really believe it, wanted just to dismiss it as…well…as a bad dream. She resolved to find out.
She climbed out of bed and made her way downstairs. The book awaited her on its stand. She began by turning to the back and the photo of the author: a green stallion.
No good. She could've seen his picture by mistake at some point or other. She needed something else, something more substantial.
She found another book, one from a series of encyclopedias on prominent authors and scanned the index of works until she found See the Colt!, then paged through to the entry on its author. She saw his picture again, information about his work and his publisher, and then his biography.
It detailed his life in Manehatten and his struggles with poverty, the difficulty he'd had getting published and a promise he'd made to his significant other that they would marry, but not until he had the means to support their life. It also had a picture of the apartment he'd lived in while writing his breakout work, See the Colt!—the bed, the table, and the desk where she'd sat, all of it exactly as she remembered.
Satisfied she'd proven her case to herself, Twilight closed the book.
The door to the library opened and closed behind her; she turned and saw Spike, laden with groceries.
"Finally," he said. "I was starting to wonder if you were ever gonna get up. Late night, huh? Bet you were trying that spell again." He wandered past her toward the kitchen. "I went to the market already. I'll get started on lunch."
A second later, it registered: lunch.
How long had she…?
Applejack.
As if on cue, a knock came on the door.
Spike poked his head out of the kitchen, chef hat and tiny apron in full glory. "Are we expecting company?"
Twilight looked around quickly, unsure of what to do. Then she trotted up to the door and opened it. What else could she do?
Applejack greeted her with a smile, camping gear on her back. "Howdy." Right away, she noticed something amiss. "Everything all right, there, Twi? Lookin' at me like my mane done turned blue or somethin'."
Twilight shook away her thoughts, setting course. "I'm sorry, Applejack, but I'm going to have to cancel lunch." She hollered back at the kitchen. "Spike, I'm going to Canterlot! Watch the library!"
"Canterlot?" Spike asked. "W— Should I make dinner? When will you be back?"
"As soon as I can!"
Applejack moved aside as Twilight stepped out and shut the door, on her way to the train station. The farm pony trotted alongside her, totally lost. "Uh…sugarcube?"
"I have to see the princess," Twilight said, determined.
"Can I ask why?"
"Sorry, but I don't really have time t—"
Applejack planted herself firmly in Twilight's path, halting her. "Now, listen here. You're actin' like a spooked rabbit. I don't know what's goin' on, but I have every intention of findin' out. And after everythin' we done talked about last night, I expect you're gonna tell me. Right now."
Twilight gave in with a sigh. "All right. But can we just—?" She gestured forward. "I'm kind of in a hurry."
Applejack stepped in line beside her, and as they made their way to the station, Twilight explained her night following their campfire session.
"So you see I have to talk to the princess. I don't really…know what's happening, but if it's what it sounds like, it could be—"
"Real bad…" Applejack said gravely. "Don't ya reckon we oughtta get the others? You know, in case you-know-who—"
"I don't think that'll happen. She talked about being cleansed."
"All right, but cleansed or not, what if Princess Luna decides to—"
"I doubt the elements would have any effect on her anymore anyway. There's nothing…nothing bad in her."
"Bad?" Applejack asked. "Who ever said—?"
"I know. When we use the elements, I can feel it when they channel through me. They…attack— No, that's not the right word. They…react with the…imbalance? Negativity? No. The…"
"I think I get yer meanin'."
"Inside the target as a catalyst. Without that, I don't think it would be anything more than a light show. Take…Fluttershy, for example," Twilight pulled a hypothetical out of the air. "If we somehow used the elements on her, I don't think anything would happen. There's nothing in her for them to react with."
"And you're sayin' there ain't nothin' in Princess Luna, either," Applejack caught on.
"No, she's just…I don't know." Twilight remembered Luna's eyes just before the end of their encounter, and the sadness in her voice. "But she isn't bad."
"All right, Twi. I trust ya," Applejack deferred to her judgment.
They got to the station, luckily enough, just as the Canterlot train pulled in and ground slowly to a stop. Twilight boarded, Applejack right behind her. She looked at her friend.
"Like I was really gonna let ya tackle this rodeo by yourself," she said in response to Twilight's confusion. She smiled. "Besides, if ya stay longer than yer plannin' and they don't want me trackin' no dirt inside, I'm already prepared." She adjusted her camping gear.
Twilight managed a smile at the ridiculous suggestion.
They took their seats. A short time later, the trained left the station bound for Canterlot. Applejack spent the trip in thought, brow level, eyes stern. Twilight watched out through the window as the scenery blurred by, still stuck in that moment the night before––Luna's eyes, her voice, the…resignation. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't put it out of her mind.
The train arrived in Canterlot, and Twilight wasted no time in heading straight for the palace, Applejack right behind her. A guard met them at the gate and left to alert the princess to their arrival and request for an audience. Meanwhile, she and Applejack were allowed inside.
They passed the library, and an idea came to Twilight; she filed it away, maybe for later.
"Twilight Sparkle, my faithful student, and Applejack. What a wonderful surprise." Celestia approached them from a nearby hallway. Like Applejack before her, she noticed immediately. "Twilight, you look worried. Is something the matter?"
About to blurt everything out right then and there, Twilight caught herself and decided against it. "Yes, Princess. Could we maybe…talk somewhere more…private?"
Celestia suddenly became concerned, and much more interested. "Certainly."
Celestia bid them follow, and they did, to her private chambers. Sunlight streamed in through sets of window arches––wide and nearly floor-to-ceiling––which adorned the entire far wall. A long table sat in center, a desk off to the side, and a large doorway at the opposite end which, Twilight knew, led to Celestia's bedchamber. White and gold, the décor of the room caught the light and seemed to glow.
Celestia sat near one of the windows, her mane shimmering in the light. "Applejack, please. Set down your things. Rest."
Applejack did just that.
"Now, Twilight. Tell me what troubles you."
Once again, Twilight took a breath and recapped the events of late. As she did, she watched Celestia's expression change from interest, to understanding, until it too became troubled, though noticeably less worried than hers.
Celestia hung her head in thought; she breathed a quiet sigh. "I see. I wish she had not spoken to you of such things."
Twilight raised a hoof slightly, taken aback. "Then it's true," she realized, talking almost to herself. "About you."
Celestia looked at Twilight with a smile as soft as morning. "You needn't worry, Twilight. Not about that. All is as it should be."
"But you—!"
"Trust, my student," Celestia interrupted her gently, waiting until Twilight's posture relaxed some. "Have faith." She spoke to Applejack as well. "Both of you. Do not worry."
For a few moments, the room fell silent, Twilight doing her best to follow her mentor's advice. She fought hard, wrapped what Luna had said in her teacher's soothing words and swallowed them, placing her trust in Celestia like she always had before. Applejack, she imagined, did the same, though the farm pony had hidden any reaction so far much better than she had.
At last, Twilight doubled back to the more pressing concern. "What about Princess Luna?"
Celestia's smile disappeared; she looked away in thought. "That is another matter entirely, I'm afraid… I do worry about Luna…"
"Where is she now? Could we talk to her?" asked Twilight.
"Doubtful, my student. She sequesters herself in her chambers. Even I rarely see her."
Twilight shook her head quickly, like it didn't add up. "But you're…you. Couldn't you just—?"
"I could, if I so chose. And then? If I wish, I may force her to see me, but I may not force her to speak."
Twilight conceded the point. "Still… Could we—? I mean, couldn't we at least…?"
Celestia smiled again. "I will inform her that you wish to speak with her. I doubt she will be swayed in her seclusion, but you are more than welcome to stay here and wait for as long as you like," she spoke to both of them. "Is that all right?"
"Of course, Princess." Twilight bowed; Applejack did the same.
"I'll go to her now," said Celestia. "I'll also inform the guards that you are to be given rooms at your request."
"Thank you, Princess."
Celestia left, and Applejack breathed a sigh of relief. "Sorry for not sayin' much back there, sugarcube, but…you know me and, uh…etiquette. Figured I'd go ahead and let you do the talkin'. Reckon it's like you thought, though. Even got the princess on edge…"
Twilight affirmed silently, thinking.
"Take it we're stickin' around awhile, then."
Twilight looked at her friend. "We? What about the farm?"
Applejack nodded. "I'll take a train back to Ponyville, get everythin' squared away, then meet ya back here. Reckon we shouldn't hear from her before then. Sound okay?"
"Yeah. Just… Just don't tell anyone. Tell anyone there's a problem with Princess Luna, and they'll go straight to… There's no sense causing a panic."
"Roger that. I'll just tell 'em I'm out here helpin' ya with somethin' and I don't know no details more than that."
"That sounds good. I'll probably be in the library. We passed it on the way in. Do you remember how to get there?"
"I'll find it." Applejack hauled up her camping gear and started off. "Back in a bit."
"See you later," Twilight said absentmindedly, lost in thought trying to figure out what she would even say to Luna if they did get to talk. She felt like…like she had to say something, but…
Coltfriend issues.
Marefriend issues.
Personal issues.
Sure, fine. Not a problem. But this… How could she…? How could anypony…?
She imagined that was probably Celestia's trouble with the whole thing, and Luna's too.
But Celestia, at least Celestia was on the same playing field, on the same level.
Meanwhile, anything she said on the subject could've only ever sounded like a filly giving magical advice to Starswirl the Bearded. Put in Luna's place, she might've even found it insulting.
Maybe if she knew more, she decided. And she knew just how to do that. Not that she considered it a particularly good idea, especially considering her relative unfamiliarity with those aspects of the spell, but the way she saw it, she really didn't have any other options. Not really. Not if she really wanted to know, to understand where Luna had come from, what she'd lost, who she'd been.
Ready to give it a shot, she made her way to the library, past the introductory and basic levitation sections, through the important figures archives and back, back into the stacks. Dust free because of the palace's cleaning staff, the books rested on bowing shelves, practically stuck together because of their infrequent use. Not that they weren't important; they were just outdated, and any useful information they contained could've also been found in more recent, more complete works.
However, it wasn't the information she wanted.
Past the stacks, Twilight continued down a set of winding stairs to the library's innermost sanctum: an open, circular room with one tiny table and lined on all sides with compartments designed to store scrolls, magically protected to ensure the climate didn't damage the ancient works. Most ponies wouldn't even have been allowed access through the barrier.
Most ponies.
She, however, went about searching the different sections and scrolls. Many of their authors since lost to time, she knew at least a few had been written by Celestia herself, around the time of the unification when proper laws had first been established. Considering their relationship at that time––sisters––she imagined that if Celestia had written some, then…
The only trouble was there was no way of knowing. About the best she could do was find the section that contained the original laws, pull out all the scrolls, and start going through them one-by-one. So she did.
Nervously, she levitated the first scroll down from its compartment near the ceiling and set it carefully on the table. She'd spent a good portion of the train ride contemplating the spell and what had happened at the end of her last attempt. All she really needed to do was be ready for it, and of course, if she could, learn to manipulate it further––slow it down and ease her way in so that she could get a look around without having to wait for it to dissolve in her mind while she slept.
She took a moment to prepare herself; it wouldn't work if she didn't calm down. Breathing…heart rate…clarity…once she was ready, she summoned her focus and let it reach out to the scroll. The information wormed its way into her mind––the unification of Equestria, formal declarations of territories, concessions, stipulations, the establishment of the Canterlot capital––and gradually she felt it getting closer to the end. She even prided herself on it a little, how fast she'd picked up what she'd come to call the data phase after her first success. After getting the basic pattern down last night, it became relatively simple now, at least at the speed she was maintaining.
Then the end, and she braced herself for what came next, steadying her mind and strengthening her focus to defend against the initial—
Wham.
Light and sound, flash and bang and she lost it, recoiled and put a foreleg up like somepony had literally flashed a light at her.
Much more powerful than before. Much stronger. Much…
Much.
All right… At least she'd learned something: the intensity of the resulting post-acquisition could vary based on some mitigating factors, though she couldn't really say what those were. It may've been that emotion surrounding the writing of the scroll far surpassed that of See the Colt! which she was sure it did. Or it may've just been that the princesses left much stronger impressions by default, which meant it would vary depending on the character of the pony responsible for it.
Either way, if See the Colt! had been an explosion, this time…
That scroll…
The word cataclysm came to mind.
When she tried to recall it, she couldn't even be sure she'd managed to get anything at all or if it had been like trying to ram a boulder through a door. She considered her comparison briefly and found at least one thing she could be thankful for: At least she hadn't broken.
She hadn't considered that, that it might actually be dangerous for her. If the information did come all at once, the shock to her mind, at least from something of this magnitude, may've actually…
But she felt all right. Not at first, maybe. Not at the point of contact during the hit, but…she couldn't feel any damage now.
Still, she resolved to be more careful, if she could figure out how.
After some time to recover, she tried again––and failed, again. One or two attempts later and she decided to start smaller; jumping right to official records written by the princesses probably had been a little ambitious. She went back upstairs, found a small biography on one of her favorite authors, long deceased, and went to work practicing.
* * *
Hours later and A.J. still hadn't come back, which was all right; Twilight kept herself plenty busy. Not a minute went by that she didn't spend slowly but surely becoming more adept at her spell. A few tries on it, and she finally realized her mistake, the one miscalculated number that kept throwing off the whole equation.
The data phase quickly became second nature. At the speed she used, once she understood the ins and outs of working it properly, she didn't even have to think about it anymore. It required her attention, certainly––cataloguing the new information, pacing the rate at which it came in––but her mind worked it like the hooves of a practiced seamstress, feeling it out without a thought.
It amazed her, actually, to think that not a day before it had seemed so impossible. But she supposed, many things probably would've seemed impossible, gone about entirely the wrong way like she'd been doing––eating without chewing, for instance. One step and suddenly it all became simple.
The post-phase, however, she found to be an entirely different beast altogether. Where the data phase required her active input, the post-phase was completely the opposite. She needed to tune out, zone out as far as she could, almost to the point of daydreaming, to leave her mind open enough to properly receive the transfer. She needed to clear the pool, so to speak, so that the incoming transfer had enough room to dilute and spread out.
Once she did that, it all opened up. The diluted information filled her mind and almost did feel like a daydream, except much more foreign. After some more practice, she even managed to separate herself from the entity perspective, as she called it: the perspective of the pony through whose eyes she was seeing. She broke free and found she could move, watch scenes from different angles and wander a bit, although she did occasionally hit blank spots.
She even found that she could go deeper.
She could push herself from the active memory received from the book into the entity perspective itself. It had astounded her at first––families, wants, and dreams, hopes, fears, and memories. She could sift through them all. At least, to an extent. Strong memories. Powerful feelings. Vivid things, she could see.
Once she realized that, she developed a much better understanding of what Luna had meant by implications. The potential for invading privacy…she couldn't even imagine. There wasn't a scale, wasn't a word for that kind of violation if used irresponsibly. Likewise, it gave her a certain level of pride, that she'd been entrusted with it, to use it well.
And she would.
Finally ready––she hoped––head pounding, she proceeded back downstairs to the scroll repository and prepared herself. She dare not probe into Princess Celestia, or anything else unwarranted for that matter, so she readied at a moment's notice to sever the connection and look no further if it became apparent that the scroll wasn't the one she needed.
With that in mind, she focused and began.
The data phase came and went, and she let her mind fall away as empty as she could. Not nearly as painful this time, it came to her, a thump of images and sounds; her mind wandered. She saw herself writing the scroll, glimpsed her white coat, and severed the connection immediately.
Wrong scroll. On to the next.
One more, two more, four more, eight––she continued one-by-one, each time Celestia or some scribe, advisor, or confidant. And then finally, probing a scroll on the advancement of royal guard ranks, she caught sight of Luna's reflection in a mirror across from her.
She broke her alignment with the entity perspective and moved out so she could see. Luna stood writing the scroll, alone in a large conference room of some kind. Twilight noted her armor: not unlike Nightmare Moon's, although more fitted to her smaller form. She stood with a regal posture, back and neck straight, with the eyes of a soldier, confident and assured.
Twilight took a breath and dove in for the next part, the really important part, the part she hoped would let her better understand Luna's position so maybe she could be more prepared to try to help her. She focused in on the entity perspective, pried her way in, and started sifting.
She didn't have to look long.
More powerful than anything she'd encountered in practicing earlier, Luna's most vivid memories lashed out at her. Rather than look for them, she had to almost fight them off so she could get at them one at a time.
She let one swallow her and found herself back in the astral abyss. As quickly as she could, she detached herself from Luna and moved out to see. When she did, she saw Luna alone against the dark, mane and tail flowing freely, eyes ahead, transfixed. And then she saw why.
From the darkness congealed a veritable army of shadows––nightmares, Twilight assumed––barely perceptible against it, large and small, all manner of sizes and grotesque, amputated shapes. The scurried and lumbered and dragged themselves toward her, an amorphous black mass.
Luna raised her chin; they stopped, tiny blue eyes popping open curiously at the strange creature that impeded them.
The dark alicorn spoke in the full, booming royal Canterlot voice that seemed to carry clear on into the void. "Thou knowest us, creatures of the abyss. We are Luna, Princess of Equestria, keeper and embodiment of thy home the night. Often have we spoken with thee of thy nightly torments against our subjects, but the time for speaking endeth tonight. We wish thou no harm but have pled with thee in the past and do beseech thee now, one final time: Return whence thou comest. Return, or we will rebuke any further advances without restraint. Thou art warned."
A moment's pause, and one of the nightmares rushed for her, arms flailing, claws dragging its legless half-ton body along; it leapt at her.
Luna raised her chin again. This time, a blueblack light shined from her horn and struck the unfortunate creature, consumed it whole and evaporated it before it touched the ground.
The light glimmered on the tip of Luna's horn like a dark star, and then vanished. Her gaze fell once more upon the horde.
"We warn thee again: Return, or perish. These are thy choices. Choose well, and we will respect thy decision."
At that, the rest of the mob mobilized against her.
Luna shut her eyes a moment, acknowledging their decision. Her eyes opened, brimming with light.
She spread her wings wide, and with three good, strong flaps propelled herself up and forward to meet them; she landed among them, instantly piled on, swarmed, and overwhelmed. A bubble of blueblack light tore through the nightmares in her immediate vicinity; the rest took pause.
Teeth locked in anger, Luna reared up. "We are Luna!" she cried, furious. "We are Selene! Princess of Equestria, keeper and embodiment of the night! Our will is law, and we command thee: Return!"
Luna's hooves came down with a dull boom that rippled through the abyss; a ring of light pulsed around her and expanded into the depths through the nightmares that remained, cutting down all of them in one fell swoop. They evaporated into a thick haze.
"Mayest thou be content in the path thou hast chosen," Luna spoke quietly.
Her deed done, Luna stood alone again in the nothing as the light in her eyes faded.
And then, Twilight froze.
In the stillness, Luna slowly turned to face her. Not the abyss, not some nightmare she'd missed, not some other figure––her, looking right at her, eye-to-eye.
Twilight's heart skipped; her concentration broke, and her connection severed. A bit panicked, she swallowed once, unsure what to make of the event.
"Twi."
Twilight flinched and turned in a flash; Applejack stood outside the barrier to the repository.
Applejack nudged her head at the stairs. "C'mon. They's askin' for us."
With some effort, Twilight managed to shake off her heebie-jeebies enough to stand up and join Applejack. Together, they went back upstairs.
"How'd you know I was down there?" Twilight asked as they passed through the library proper. "Come to think of it, how'd you even know there was a down there?"
"Didn't," said Applejack. "Took some doin', but I found ya."
Outside the library, Princess Celestia awaited them.
"Princess." Twilight bowed, a bit surprised to see her, though she couldn't rightly say why. She saw that Applejack hadn't bowed and shot her a quick look––not a nasty one, just trying to call her attention to it.
Celestia chuckled politely. "It's quite all right, Twilight."
Twilight stood up and looked between Applejack and the princess, trying to figure out what was going on.
"Aw, shoot. We had ourselves a good old time while you was in there doin' yer thing," Applejack said to Twilight. "Didn't we, Princess?"
Celestia tipped her head in a slight nod. "Indeed we did. I gave Applejack a proper tour of the grounds. We discussed growing conditions, and I learned a great deal about the work her family does. It was quite enjoyable."
"All…right… If you're okay with it," said Twilight. It was her kingdom, after all.
Celestia started them walking. She glanced at Twilight and smiled. "I would be okay with it for you as well, you know."
"I know. But it's…polite…" Twilight said sheepishly.
"And that there is yer prerogative. Bowin' ain't exactly…in my nature, if ya know what I mean."
Celestia chuckled again. Her jovial attitude died off as they reached what Twilight and Applejack presumed was the door to Luna's chambers.
"Princess?" Applejack got her attention.
Celestia looked over.
"Did she happen to…say why exactly she decided to see us? Ya know, since she's, uh…sequestered, and all."
Celestia shook her head. "I would ask that you try not to upset her, and do not stay if she asks that you leave."
"Absolutely, Princess," said Twilight. Her nerves kicked up again at the thought of why Luna may have asked to see them.
With that, Celestia proceeded to levitate a thick doorknocker, shaped like a crescent moon. She raised it and let it fall twice; the sound echoed in the room beyond. "Luna? I've brought your guests."
The ceiling-high double doors opened with an arduous creak. Celestia led the group inside.
Opposite where they'd entered, Luna sat with her back to the doors, facing a wall. A slit window provided the only light.
The doors shut behind them with a heavy latching sound; Twilight could sense Applejack's rising danger meter, though Celestia showed no such signs.
"I'm so glad you decided to see them, Luna, as are they. They were quite curious, however, as to why. I…must admit to being somewhat interested myself." Celestia managed a weak chuckle; even Twilight could hear how forced it'd been.
"Art thou?" came Luna's monotone voice.
Celestia managed a smile. "Luna, I've told you. No one speaketh in such a manner anymore." She chuckled again, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "Thou hast no need t—"
"This is our voice!" Luna snapped, turning sharply to them. "If thou dost not approve, thou shouldst take note that we do not thrust our company upon ye." She seemed to calm some. "And if thou desirest the reason for our audience, ask thy student. She knoweth as well as any creature."
With a confused look, Celestia turned to Twilight.
Twilight's ears splayed back, ashamed or afraid. "Princess, I—"
Luna rose to full standing height. "Thou hast invaded the sanctity of our mind...!" she hissed.
Panicking outright now, Twilight looked from Luna back to Celestia. "I… Princess, I only wanted to…"
Keeping calm, Celestia gave her a gentle, understanding nod, then turned her attention back to Luna. "Sister, I am sure she only meant to help you, perhaps to better understand—"
"What? What we have lost? What we were? Dost thou?" Luna questioned a paralyzed Twilight. "Didst thou see? Didst thou drink thy fill of our most intimate thoughts?" Her anger surged again. "Didst thou? Prithee, speak!"
Unnoticed by Twilight, her body sank lower, cowering. "I… Yes…? I mean I… I'm sorry…" she squeaked.
"A question? Nay! We demand an answer! Didst thou enjoy violating our memory? We warned thee, placed our trust delicately 'twixt thy hooves, and thou didst accept it then as quickly as thou dost crush it now! Betrayer!" Luna stomped a hoof.
Twilight winced, Applejack doing her best to help her.
The farm pony spoke up. "Now listen here, Princess—"
"Silence!" Luna boomed, effectively muting her. "Know that thy presence here is neither requested nor desired, earthenhoof. Thou hast—"
"Enough!" Celestia intervened. "They did not come here under the guise of an audience only to be subjected to an interrogation. They came here—"
"We know why she came here," Luna accused.
Celestia spoke over her. "They came here out of concern, out of worry for you, sister, for your well being. Will you berate them for it?"
"Doth't matter?" Luna asked coldly.
Celestia stood stunned.
"Explain't us, sister. We have watched them. Even during our imprisonment, we did watch them. We have seen them, born into the world in a flood of slime and foulness, grow, walk, live, mate, wither, and die, back to dust, to dirt. What doth it matter, whether they smile in the interim?" Rage suddenly overtook her. "Why dost thou love them? Why dost thou care? Tell us! Please!"
Celestia merely shook her head, eyes locked on Luna, incredulous, absolutely at a loss. "How…can you ask such a thing…?"
The glistening of tears formed in Luna's eyes. "How can we not? Honesty, sister! Honesty is ours still, ours as it has e'er been! Is't thy nature, to love them? Perhaps so. Thou art not unlike them, after all. Thy nature is love. Thou art happy in thy nature. Their nature is to love ye, and they too are happy in't."
Celestia seemed to see ahead in their conversation. "Luna, do not do this."
"What of us? What fate? What destiny? What sick joke is this? Can our nature truly be to this? Perhaps not. Perhaps we are mistaken––misguided somehow in our thinking. But no! It cannot be! Canst thou not see? Thy nature is love, so thou lovest. Conversely, thou lovest, so thy nature is to love. There can be no mistake, sister. We are. Our nature: to be. We ask ye again: What sick joke is this?" she half laughed, half cried. "What fate? What destiny is this?"
"Sister, we––your sister, your friends––we wish to help you."
"Dost thou? Dost thou truly? Then grant our request. Imprison us once more. Remove us of our mind, that we might at least suffer unaware!"
"I will do no such thing."
"Cruel sadist! Thou knowest our pain!" Luna stomped again, harder this time, a thundering crack that rocked even Applejack's courage.
For a moment, a hush fell over the scene.
"And still thou wilt not grant us even this small modicum of mercy?"
"I will do no such thing," Celestia reiterated.
"Then thy love is a lie." The coldness returned to Luna's voice.
Celestia's heart wrenched. "Luna…"
Luna shot her a sudden glance, and Celestia's posture changed out of reflex––a very distinctive, very reactive, very particular kind of reflex. Luna recognized it immediately. "And there it is. Thou mayest mask thy words in pretty frills and flowers, talk of love and empathy, but thy actions speak truer still."
Celestia shunned the involuntary defensive gesture.
"Dost thou wish't? We could give't ye. Here, now. What should't matter, yes? An eternity of blind solitude looms on our horizon. What should't matter, a few thousand years more of light and love and lies? Better to acclimate ourselves quickly! If the temporary state is what doth plague us so, then better to cut it out and embrace eternity!" The heat of Luna's anger rose steadily as she spoke. "This is thy worry, is't not? The source of they fear? Dost thou fear us, sister? Thy body doth, 'twould seem. Dost thou wish't?"
Celestia's breath drained away for a moment when she saw the glint of idea in Luna's eye and realized just how grievous her momentary mistake had really been.
"And what if we did?" Luna dug into a powerful stance, committing herself to the decision.
Celestia turned her head slightly, eyeing down her sister. "Luna, no."
"Or what?" Luna held her head high. "Thou wilt kill us? Strike us down?" She laughed once––loudly. "Is that what thou toldest them? Lies…" she seethed venomously, eyes flaring, "Such lies…!"
"I never—"
"Oh yes, how wrong of us to assume. Mayhap thou didst never speak the truth proper, but they––they never asked, so certainly thou spakest no lie! Well we ask't now. We demand't, refuse to see ourselves belittled any further by the lie of the light, its power, glory and hollow, half-hearted catharsis! For our treason…all of our wrongs…our horrors…for the nightmare we inflicted upon thy world and all thy good works, the blood spilled and the lives lost under our trampling hooves, surely no creature hath ever been more deserving of death than we in that instant. Why, then, didst thou not? Speak! Tell us true."
Nothing.
Luna stomped once more; the room trembled, and she barked, "Why?"
Silence settled over them.
Luna spoke quietly, darkly. "Thou couldst not. In what world could the sun ever hope to vanquish the night? Postpone it, perhaps. Banish it for a time as thou didst…and wilt again."
Celestia spoke in warning. "Luna…"
"Thou wilt return us to our imprisonment, sister, cast us off as thou wouldst a leg stricken with disease, or we shall be as that upon all thou lovest until thou dost relent." The shimmering of tears glistened behind Luna's adamant resolve. "Decide—now—what 'twill take. Thou knowest us, sister. Wouldst thou call our threats as idle prattle? Thy self. Thy kingdom. What must we threaten to invoke thy wrath and rightful punishment?"
"Luna, I will not—"
"Or perhaps thy student."
Celestia stopped cold.
Blueblack light glowed at the very tip of Luna's horn––a tiny point, though a tangible, audible power surged in the room with its appearance, a low, bass hum that reverberated in Twilight's chest and behind her eyes, masking her quivering.
"Luna—"
"Do not condescend!" Luna bellowed. "Choose, and thou shalt have't!"
Celestia took a breath, steadying herself as best she could. "I have had one thousand years to consider my actions that day, anything I might have done differently had the situation been even the slightest bit less dire. Do not force my hoof in this, sister. I beg you."
Luna's jaw trembled, her eyes determined but swelling with tears; a blast discharged from her horn, striking the ground near Twilight and launching her back.
Twilight struck the wall and fell in a slump.
"Twilight!" Applejack rushed to her side.
Luna's resolve faltered with a wince and a restrained sob, shutting her eyes at the act, only a moment; after, they opened at her sister, burning hot. "Punish us!"
Without hesitation, Celestia returned fire.
Luna yelped and recoiled when the blast struck her eyes; holding them, she dropped to her knees and, shortly thereafter, poured all of her being into a shriek that shattered the bits of Celestia's heart that hadn't yet been broken––a wail not of pain or of anger, but of utter, helpless agony in having been denied her mercy. Another scream followed, then another…then another…each one less powerful than the last until Luna dissolved into a whimpering puddle on the floor.
* * *
Adrift in a sea of thoughts and sounds, Twilight succumbed to the ebbs and flows of the tides and currents, allowing herself to be carried without resistance.
Thunder clapped, the moon obscured by the black clouds of a gathering storm. Flashes of lightning illuminated frightened faces, swarms of ponies galloping in fear as a great shadow crept over the land and swallowed their homes and villages. From the shadow, the nightmares rose up, legions upon endless, coagulated legions; the lightning flashed red, the thunder drowned out by countless, indistinguishable screams.
Two eyes closed in the dark, dreaming.
The eyes burst open, and Twilight's did the same; her mind caught up quickly and, panting, she sprung up, looking around. She relaxed some when she found herself in Princess Celestia's chambers, on her bed. She flinched when somepony touched her.
"Whoa there, sugarcube. Easy now." Applejack coaxed her back down. "Seein' you okay makes me happier than rooster in a henhouse, but how's about we take it easy for a while, all right?"
Twilight wasted no time in asking what'd happened.
Applejack nodded, like she'd figured on explaining. "After you...you know...well, Princess Celestia let her have it right back and... She... Well, I reckon she..."
"Blinded her," said Celestia, walking into the room.
Twilight's eyes went wide.
"She will recover. I can only hope that by then she..." Celestia shut her eyes in sadness. She opened them to her student. "Twilight, I am truly sorry that I allowed the situation to escalate that far. I simply wished...to try speaking with Luna first, in hopes that she...that it would not come to..."
"I understand, Princess," said Twilight. "If it were my sister, I...probably would've done the same."
"Thank you, Twilight." Celestia bowed her head.
"So...what exactly does it mean, blindin' her?" asked Applejack. "She can't cast spells no more?"
"She can't target them," Twilight answered. "Spells require an uninhibited line of sight, even self teleportation spells to form the bubble around the caster. We can close our eyes to focus after the location is set, which is usually so fast as to be almost instant with the thought, but… Blinding her removes any possible target or extension, effectively preventing her from casting."
"Huh." Applejack turned to the princess with a new question. "So how come ya didn't do that before, instead of sendin' her off to the moon?"
"I simply could not risk it. Her forces were all but infinite. The only way to ensure they would not continue to replenish their numbers was to remove her. The Elements are not meant to be wielded by any one creature, and so alone, I could not help her the way that you and your friends did, and for which I am forever grateful. Whatever it takes to help her now, I will not lose my sister a second time."
Applejack let a few seconds go by, what she figured to be an appropriate amount of time before taking the opportunity to answer something else that had been on her mind. "Speakin' of the elements..."
Celestia turned her attention to the earth pony, who seemed to be having trouble getting the words out. "Yes?"
"Well, back there, when... I mean, did Princess Luna— What exactly did she mean...honesty? You know, about it bein' hers and such."
Celestia gave a nod of understanding. "You know that Luna and I were the original bearers of the Elements of Harmony."
Twilight and Applejack both nodded.
"In truth, we are much more than that. We are derived from the Elements—children, as it were, physical incarnations meant to facilitate harmony in a physical world. Day, and night. That will always be true of us. However, the role of bearer will always fall to those individuals who are the purest representation of any single Element, and will default again to us if none are present at the time. I am Generosity, Laughter, and Kindness."
An astonished look appeared on Twilight as she realized.
"My sister is Loyalty, Honesty, and Magic."
A wrench fell into Twilight's gears. "But if that's... If you're really incarnations of the Elements, then how... Nightmare Moon."
"Physical...incarnations," Celestia corrected her sadly. "And all that that entails. Temptation, jealousy, anger... We are no more immune than any other creature, though perhaps wiser in our experience. Although, not always..."
A thoughtful quiet fell over them for a moment.
Then Applejack's face took on the resolve of a farm pony ready to go to work. "How do we help her?"
Celestia only shook her head some. "Imagine being shut in a dark, silent, empty room, unable to see, no sounds to hear. You search for the walls but find only nothing. Then the floor falls away. You fly, and no matter how far you wander, you find nothing, see nothing, encounter...nothing. Infinite. Trapped. This is what Luna sees, the future she fears and feels herself being pulled slowly toward by the ebb and flow of time. The prospect, even a short time of it—one hour, one day—would frighten most. But applied to her immortality, something her loyalty had not allowed her to consider until recent events... It is a truly horrifying thought."
"I reckon so..." Applejack said as a shiver wriggled up her spine.
"She reacts with power," said Celestia, "lashes out because some part of her wishes to fight, although she understands that it is futile. She is afraid, but it...is the truth... So to help her...I simply...do not know..."
As the three pony drifted into thought again over the situation, darkness eclipsed the light from the windows. Outside, night fell.
"Uh…what time is it?" asked Applejack.
The gears in Celestia's mind turned. The castle shook, the air vibrating around them with an ominous growl that seemed to come from every direction; the life drained from Celestia's expression, and she bolted from the room at full gallop.
Twilight and Applejack followed.
"I thought she couldn't cast spells no more!" Applejack said to Twilight as they turned another sharp corner, trying to keep up with the princess.
With that thought, it donned on Twilight as well. Her eyes widened.
As they came up on the doors to Luna's chambers, Celestia blew them open with enough force that they nearly tore from their hinges. She stopped in the doorway and nearly took a step back at the sight inside.
Curled up as tight as could be, Luna lay trembling on the floor, head buried; ribbons and waves of translucent black and blue light danced in auroras around her, grazing and singeing nearby walls and sparking briefly against a barrier in front of Celestia—who stood aghast, unable to speak or look away.
"Leave us!" Luna attempted to yell, though it came out pitiful and half broken.
Applejack looked to Celestia with gritted teeth. "What in tarnation—? I thought you said she couldn't—"
"She's not casting," Twilight nearly whispered an answer on the white alicorn's behalf, still in shock herself. "She's channeling."
Applejack switched to Twilight, since Celestia had failed to so much as acknowledge her. "Channelin' what? Where?"
"Magic, power. Into…herself."
Applejack furrowed her brow, trying to fit the pieces together. "If she can't cast nothin', why would she—?" Once she got it, her expression changed to match her friend's.
Unable to intervene, completely helpless, Twilight did the only thing she could: looked on in horror at the grim spectacle, words trickling from her mouth simply because her head lacked the faculties to hold them back. "If what she said is true, she knows that, even decapitated, given enough time she would probably… So instead she's…trying to reach…critical…"
Applejack broke from her trance and entreated Celestia again, though with little more success. "Princess, ya gotta do somethin'!"
This time Celestia did acknowledge her, at least, with a kind of reflexive head-twitch in her direction—very slight.
"She can't," said Twilight. "If she touches her now, she might…"
"Might what? Die? Reckon we're lookin' at goin' over them falls whether we start paddlin' or not!"
"No, that— If she goes, then maybe…maybe it'll just…be her," Twilight's voice sank, ashamed at the notion, true or not. "But if we interrupt her and she loses control of it, that kind of…that kind of power, then…"
"Then what?"
Twilight shook her head slowly. "I…don't know… All of…that…spilling out without direction or…control… The backlash would be…" She tried to think but came up empty, as she was sure her mentor had already. "I don't know… Anything, maybe…"
"Leave us!" Luna cried out again.
A rush of blue- and black-colored wind struck Celestia's barrier, threatening to hurl them away if Celestia wavered even the tiniest bit.
"We are sorry, sister…!" Luna's authority started out strong but waned fast, any trace of her Canterlot voice gone; her body trembled and her shoulders shook, straining hard but crying uncontrollably. "We… I… I just…can't…" she sobbed quietly, begging forgiveness. "I'm sorry… I can't... I—"
Celestia jerked forward instinctively when Luna winced sharply and groaned.
Slowly, Luna rose, floated up and hovered midair, her eyes bright and glowing, all pain or fear or feeling of any kind removed from her expression. Vacant.
The rumbling around them grew steadily louder, bolder, more violent.
A spasm rocked Luna's body; outside, the night sky fractured. Another spasm, and it cracked like glass.
Twilight's heart raced faster as she watched the magnificent lights surrounding Luna gradually recede into her horn, the rumbling sound now a deafening roar.
Luna's eyes squinted some, shutting tight when she doubled over into herself.
Silence.
The roar of the world lulled, the lights gone; anxiety stretched the seconds that followed, until finally Luna threw her head back. The roar returned in full force, louder than ever, any and all light—from the candles nearby, from the window—was sucked into Luna's horn, and darkness consumed them.
A few moments later, Luna cried out once, and an explosion of light blinded them; Celestia leaned her head in, strengthening her barrier against the incredible force until at last it subsided. The roar died quickly into a growl, then a rumble, and then nothing.
Outside: daylight.
Luna lay motionless on the cold stone floor, all magic gone from her mane, the larger half of her horn on the ground at Celestia's hooves.
