//------------------------------// // Building // Story: Stardust Bridge // by Ice Star //------------------------------// The luminescent surface of the moon had been scarred with the image of her for far too long. The pale, cold surface had always been barren and pristine before she had been sealed away so long ago. Now that seal was coming undone. Time had run out. Cold air trembled and the silvery-white light of the moon wavered. Four invisible strings cast out from the moon ages ago pulled through the empty skies, as barren as the fair moon had once been. They were no longer threads of magic that barely managed to flow through the skies, needing to avoid anything that might hinder their movement and get in the way of their quest. Ages had passed. She had known none of it, but still felt time march on in its unending cycle that aided her as well. As the moon danced in the sky, the goddess within it who was locked below the ivory surface that shone so brightly knew that time had likely aided those who would oppose her as well. It would be foolish to think otherwise. She did not expect time to favor her — or any creature, pony, or otherwise — but it would be a lie to say that it hadn't granted her its own advantages. With the unknowing aid of time, her strings of magic grew to mighty chains so powerful anything that dared venture to the savage territory she had been forced into would be aware of the presence of some kind of power. But there was no one to visit. This was an unforgiving place and it would allow none but her kind to survive. Had any mortal creature been able to survive, there would be no point in their company. Mortals would only be able to wither where she merely lingered — and survived. No company was needed or desired by her anyway. Her years had dragged on in solitude that was as fragmented as she was. Chains of magic that leaked from seals she couldn't wrench herself from had snagged drifting lights, wrapping them in their own prisons and pulling the magic-laden wisps closer to the cool moon, where she dwelled in bitterness. Gradually, their strength waned while hers grew, but there was still more power she could obtain from the drifting magical lights that drifted no more. It was a power she aimed to sap from them now. Even from within the confines of her celestial prison that was colder than any earthly place, she thought that she could feel the warmth of the werelight-waste from inside the icy nothingness. She had become accustomed to the sensation once the Elements' Rainbow of Light had burned her physical form away and left her here. But, oh, how she liked to pretend that she could still feel something external of herself. Things like the feel of grass under hooves and wind in one's mane. The turning of spell book pages in darkened corridors and the song of stars on the quietest nights, when silence managed to drown out even the chirping of crickets in the grass. That was just one of the many ways in which night opened the curtains upon the world to reveal its truth and life — something the day could never do. Instead, she only felt the crushing weight of accumulated emotion. There were pain and anger, a particularly toxic shade of vindictiveness she gave up trying to push away. It was embraced instead as if that could offer some cure to its intensity. It never did. She waited and moved about as only a creature in her state could, an invisible ocean that only roiled in ways none could see. And she denied missing those things and recalled bitter stabs of other memories that soaked over the things she most certainly did not miss. There was the coldness of a sister chilled by the lands up north, bearing a heart of ice that hadn't been there before. The folly of ponies who dug their own graves and fought pointless wars over who had wings, horns, and who didn't. Those foolish mortals trampled everything between them and below them so that nothing remained but their decay. Unforgettable was the smothering stone walls of a castle that had been atop something that meant more — or it had, to her and her alone. She recalled a crown that had never suited her, and that they knew it too. With the pitiful knowledge of the mortals was the ostracism and shunning of what little she had: starlight, moonlight, and dark that outlined over everything they never wanted to see. So, she had exchanged the crown she had so reluctantly accepted for the helm of a war-bringer. If they wanted to scream against the heuristic of life that her night was, she would force it upon them. As the world she could no longer see kept on spinning, the sun and moon cycling around it, she took to lying about... things. Small details about somepony, anything to make her mask less painful on the outside and dull anything on the inside. It didn't work as well as one might have hoped, but hope was something that she had lost long ago. And when the last grains of sand fell in an hourglass she had known and the keys of starlight were at last obtained, she asked herself who she was, completing the finishing touch in a lie that had been ripped and sewn from magic and resentment. She told herself who she was. She told herself that she was Nightmare Moon. ... Glowing white stone that knew no movement suddenly shook from within. Cracks erupted on the surface and made no sound. The once-drifting lights, the false stars made of the accumulated magic of countless werelights that had drifted ever upward and mixed with whatever debris they had found. Now the anchored orbs truly felt the titanic weight of the goddess' want. They were overwhelmed by the desire for revenge, for freedom, for anything. Even if they had no lives or mind of their own, these objects — four false stars, burning bright in the sky — managed to sense something. That was something dark, something lurking and boiling beneath the moon's surface as the magic of hundreds of thousands -— and even more, were it to be counted — ponies was dragged toward the scarred surface faster than ever before by unbreakable chains. The added weight of all the light-bringing enchantments from a million artifacts of power, some as plain as a wizard's staff and others as rare as a proud sorcerer's magnum opus that still managed to bring the same light. Everything flew towards the moon whether it was the quick-to-die residue of a young foal's werelight, or the practiced and full-fledged flicker of an adventurer's illumination spell. They crashed into the moon, engulfing the surface is rushing, monstrous waves of magic that were drained of all individual aura hues so that the pearly, bright, translucent light was not seen by any who inhabited the world below. If any creature at all were to look up at the sky, they would not see a collision of awesome power... ...just four 'stars' winking out. The magic washed over the surface, seeking out the cracks erupting across the landscape as the magic of another, a goddess below the surface, drew it closer. Lingering over newly made fissures, clouds of power lingered at the edge. Then, the humming and glittering aura that had long departed their original owners before disappearing. From the depths, a cloud of bluish-purple smoke, dense, opaque, and sparkling was lifted. It floated aimlessly, though with some mind of its own before engulfing the rest of the swarm of magic that had collected. It writhed and fought against nothing at all, the bluish and hazy scrap winning in the end — as if there had ever been any doubt that it could. Swirling once more the maelstrom of magic collapsed in on itself and settled closer to the moon's surface, stretching itself into a thread and stitching together all the jagged tears in the dusty, cold surface and brushing it back to a clean white state smoother than it had been before. It looked silvery and ghost-thin — like something would just fall through it and end up... nowhere, in some white space with no up and down or beginning or end. Solid or transparent? There wasn't an answer. The magic settled nearby, stirring aimlessly on occasion. Waiting. Blooming on the softly lit and the sewn surface of the stone was an outline of black, thin lines that grew darker by the second. The blue magic quivered slightly as if detecting something. Like a picture being drawn by an invisible hoof, more lines started emerging, forming contours and details. The view of a creature's back and wings that were caught mid-fold. Feathers were drawn and a black coat was shaded — or perhaps revealed — by the increasing amount of details that emerged, drawing up somepony from below the surface. Forcing through the rock that began to look more solid with each passing moment were to black wings that cut through the silence like sickles and pulling, tearing, and wrenching past the barrier that kept them there. Lunging forward, the cloud of smoky magic embraced the dark wingtips and pulled. Hard. The effort was painful, and waves of agony shot through the body of the night-dark mare being forced through layer after layer of cold, hard stone. She rolled onto the dusty surface, mouth open wheezing, raw, painful gasps for air that wasn't there. Her blue eyes blinked and slit-like pupils widened in the dark. Pulling her dusty body into a sitting position, she rubbed her head with a forehoof as if the gesture would massage away the dizzy feeling washing over her. Nightmare Moon found her movement to be stiff, but that would pass with everything else and she was experiencing: the awkward feeling of weightlessness, a drifting and achy mind, hooves that weren't sure where to step, and other details. Nightmare Moon ran a forehoof through her mane as blue as the midnight any earthbound creature could observe. The nearby cloud of magic entwined around her forehoof. Nightmare gazed at it, her expression unreadable. Then, she lit her horn, a thin, wavering amount of blue aura on the icy surface that only her divine nature shielded her from. Slowly, the cloud wrapped around her shivering form like a cloak and shining blue-purple with some light inside of itself before fading into her. She coughed harshly and pitched forward, but her hacking made no sound. Nightmare's mane stirred up dust that only worsened the fit. She shut her eyes, both to protect them from the dust in their current state and to block the glow of light coming from them. Her mane whipped wildly in a nonexistent wind as the rest of her power returned to her. When she opened her eyes and inhaled deeply — which was a purely reflexive action — she felt the presence of armor. An identical sensation on her head and hooves confirmed that her helm and boots had returned. However, not all the magic from the cloud had disappeared. Around her, the power obtained from the stars had been partially absorbed and altered to suit her. Radiating from her was a sheer cloud of iridescent sparkles and gleaming stardust. Subtle changes in the many colors dully flickering within the cloak of power that lingered around her, following her. Her entire form was awash with the sheer cloud of starry glitter that rippled with her movements that became more fluid with each step she took. Nightmare's legs finally felt as strong they should, but she gave them one last stretch before crouching down and launching herself into the air in one powerful leap, the magic that clung to her following and drifting across her wings as she flew for the first time since... When she closed her eyes she still saw her, the sun's goddess. Celestia. Finally free of her celestial prison, Nightmare Moon cut through the empty skies dividing her from the world her moon orbited, feelings of old ambition surging up again through space. Her ears pricked to hear the winds blowing across the vast, lonely sky. Their origins were lost to her, as where they would be once they circled her satellite and dispersed. It would take far too long for her to arrive quickly if she continued flying. Nightmare Moon smiled as few possibilities drifted through her mind, which was no longer burdened by any effects of her imprisonment. The gesture was predatory, malicious, and entirely devoid of mirth, but still managed to wedge itself in the cold and imposing presence that she radiated. Her horn lit up with turquoise aura once more, the soft, shimmering magic that saw fit to follow her and cloak her swirling with her horn. It would have many uses, but it was not a power to expend foolishly, for such colossal and fickle strength had a purpose. She had a plan. This power was her blade, though its strength exceeded anything likely to be found on the surface of her world... especially anything wielded by Celestia. Her world... Nightmare Moon scowled at her own folly, eyes losing some of their wicked light for a moment and filling with a touch of introspection and haughtiness as she gazed out into the sea of stars. It was not yet hers to bathe in the darkness lurking behind Celestia's curtain of sunny skies, to rebuild and rule. To redeem... But it would be. All she needed was to work on her plan. To return a favor, to enact revenge for everything that was still twisted up below the surface of her monstrous regality, to forget. To remember. Her indecision, her turmoil lied only with matters dealing with herself — knots of madness that she dare not untangle, were she even able to, knowing that they would bring forth a far worse pain. Those were the nasty strings she used to puppet herself on her every endeavor, tangling herself in something inescapable that she tried to bear. She spared a moment to reach up with her feathers and stroke her helm lightly. She was the mad conqueror, the usurper, and sometimes while in that floating rock, she thought herself the shadow of something. If she was now a carrion crow, she had once been a bluebird. Absentmindedly, her feather tips fell from the helm's cold surface. She knew that on the outside, she was like that helm: as cold as could be. But beneath the surface? She supposed she was also like the helm: shielding something toxic, something that channeled its hurt into something else. Crowns were a far heavier weight than any despair-goddess' war-helm, she thought — the first echo of her own voice since her escape — and then flew on. She had to hurry. She needed this night. There was a sun-goddess — a sister in name only — to overthrow, elements to take, and who knows what new foes might be awaiting her. Flying wouldn't do. She had told herself this. She could not simply fly down to the world. There would need to be a bridge, and a bridge there would be. Many things would lie underhoof in her future — castle halls, ruins, the unmarked graves of those who would oppose her, and the world she had to change, to make anew. But those would have to wait. Patience. That one word was a reminder of something of almost infinite benefit. Like time, it could aid her and unmake her. Celestia, the tyrant she knew, had so much time to act as well as to plan. Nightmare Moon had only the latter. She was going up against the chess master of Midgard, the goddess who walked among mortals instead of residing in some far-flung hidden kingdom. Celestia had resources other than herself, which was just as much of a strength as it was a weakness. For Nightmare's conquest, the kingdom Celestia so foolishly threw herself and her heart into would be a titanic weak point to strike, not to draw power from. Her horn continued to glow with power drawn from many things and she arranged herself so that she might take large strides on some invisible path. Beneath her hooves was a sound bursting from itself — the twinkling crystallization of glittering aura that was like a bridge of something greater than fireflies underhoof. The stardust that brushed against Nightmare Moon was neither cool nor warm but held some peculiar texture all its own, like feeling the sky itself. An entire rainbow of glittering beauty, the sky's own stretch of wildflowers, spread out before her... ...and at the end of it was the world, her crown jewel. Galloping forward, one step and another, Nightmare Moon pressed forward, listening for the clear shattering behind her of the bridge she had poured into collapsing into ashes that would drift elsewhere. She quickened her steps, each surer than the last. Winds whipped through her mane sooner than she anticipated, carrying the scent of water and she was reminded of memories — perhaps hers, she allotted them no owner — of what it was like to fly in storms of snow that dared to think they could best a goddess. She infused each step with magic, so she became just a blur, leaping, and bounding along. Everything passed before her. Time flew, but not as fast as she! Equestria unfolded in blurs of color and rushes of senses — wind, sky, clouds, mountain air. She had no time to process because... ...Because she felt herself dissolve again, rolling to a stop atop a storm cloud that she blended into all too perfectly. And before her, she sensed the jewel of a city that was not there a thousand years prior. Canterlote sat atop the mountain, a city of chiseled gray stone and werelit alleyways. Crystal mines gutted rock paths and mines lurked among city-places like open wounds. This was not Canterlote, or at least not the Canterlote she knew. But her magic-sight felt the pull of some magic like her own, and she reversed her form back to that of a mare. Sunfire glowed atop the balcony of a high tower on the castle like a distant star. So was that the tyrant's castle now? Was that where Celestia lived? Without a doubt. Nightmare, laughing, spread her wings. There was a sadness in the sound, but it wasn't for Celestia. She didn't know who it was for, and when she told herself she didn't care, Nightmare was lying. Her horn lit and the glittering cloud that had been following her swarmed to the blue aura, hungrily intertwining itself with hers and blurring her from mortal sight and the sight of all entirely as he took flight again. This time she could hear the sound of her wing-beats, though others could not. She was alone, which was not an unfamiliar feeling. It wasn't a dreaded one either. Soon enough, she found herself perched behind a letter-writing goddess with a coat of white in a sleeping city, where she was surrounded by a flare of sunfire that only served to lead the Nightmare here, to an unguarded castle. She heard sobs, but the dark mare didn't care. Leaning forward, she allowed her veil to drop and whispered in her sister's ear: "Hello again."