//------------------------------// // Chapter III // Story: Songbird // by PaulAsaran //------------------------------// Celestia awoke with a start, her eyes popping open and her heart thudding against her chest. Flames danced fresh in her retinae like some sort of pyromaniacal phantom. For a time she merely lay in place, hugging one of her pillows to her chest and taking slow, steadying breaths. At last, she found the courage necessary to sit up, and the first thing she did was check the dark corners of her room. She released the breath she’d been holding along with the pillow. No fire. Of course there was no fire, it had been only a nightmare. Hadn’t it? After allowing a moment for her pulse to steady, Celestia closed her eyes and focused on what she’d seen and felt during the dream. It tried to fade, but she kept calm and grasped at the images carefully. Fire before her. Fire behind her. Even fire inside of her, setting her soul to the torch. Celestia knew fire. As warden and guide for the Sun, she had an intimate awareness of flame and heat. Such a thing would not harm her nor scare her. And yet she’d woken up with a distinct fear, a feeling like something were dragging her away from… From the flames. It had never been the fire of her dreams that frightened her, but something else. Something cold and wet and clinging, something that didn’t want her anywhere near the pleasant heat. But try as hard as Celestia did, she could not fathom exactly what the threat had been. Now that the unknown threat was on her mind, Celestia felt an increasingly familiar unease. Her eyes strayed across her chambers: plush rugs intact, dining table not set ablaze, two bookcases right where she’d left them. Yet something was not right about the place. Something couldn’t be right. Once more, she took in the dark corners of the room, almost certain of a presence eyeing her from the shadows. The lack of motion did nothing to settle the shiver running up and down her spine. Her gaze fell upon the picture of a forest… and stayed there. A forest. What forest? A dark place, where something unseen and unheard lingered and leered and waited. Something… Everything is fine. She crawled back from the painting, her breath coming in small gasps. Everything is alright. Go back to bed. Her hooves slipped off the mattress. Carefully, wings half-opened and head low, she backed away. She didn’t take her eyes off that forest. There’s nothing there. Nothing at all. Celestia stepped out onto her balcony and, using her magic, quickly but quietly closed the doors. The picture was still visible through the glass, taunting her with its… It’s just a picture. The curtains closed in her magic. “I’m getting to the bottom of this.” Shouldn’t she have done that yesterday? Yes, she’d wanted to. Why had she… The forest had made her want to. Why had the forest…? Her thoughts derailed at the pale light on her balcony. She turned to look east, where her sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. Canterlot glistened in the morning light like a city of jewels. A pleasant sight, as always. Perhaps today she could go down and— “No.” Stiffening, Celestia ruffled her wings and stomped. “I’ll not be distracted, not this time. I lost all of yesterday because of… of something, but I will not lose today!” She moved to return to her bedroom and froze. Had something moved behind her curtains? Instinct told her to go in and confront the trespasser, but fear slammed the desire down into the depths of her mind. Ever since the Everfree… And it was here. In her room. She couldn’t prove it without going in, but Celestia was beyond the need for evidence. Some terrified piece buried deep in her soul screamed that she needed to get away, to hide, to escape! But how could she solve the mystery if she just ran? Legs and wings so stiff they ached, Celestia fought against her cursed emotional state. Now was not the time to panic. Now was the time to act, to be decisive, to—but what if she couldn’t handle it? Would she fear it so much if she knew she could? It might be a trick, though, a spell that used fear as a weapon. And if it wasn’t? Thrusting her wings down in a powerful burst, she soared into the Canterlot sky and felt all the more cowardly for it. Wind whipped through her mane and feathers, the cool air pushing against her anxiety like a winter’s breeze. As she ascended higher and higher, leaving the glimmering spires of the castle below, her breathing eased. The panic that had almost consumed her faded into a background noise, and the shaking of her hooves, once unnoticed for her fear, receded. Upon breaking through a thin wisp of cloud, Celestia felt her calm at last returned to her. But not in full, oh no. She landed, the moisture of the cloud chilling her legs, and stared at her home below. In the rosey light of morning, the buildings shone like pink diamonds. The world beyond the city was a brilliant landscape made darker by shadows that gradually retreated, as if a veil were being removed from the blushing face of a green-coated bride. Ponyville stood in the distance, tiny and innocuous beside the weighty presence of the Everfree. Equestria. Beautiful. Fragile. Wrong. Equestria had never been so small. Yet, as Celestia raised her eyes to the horizon, she found nothing. No other towns graced the distant countryside. And when she set her gaze in any other direction, the view was the same. There should be something visible in the distance, something other than green. Equestria is perfect. No. It was wrong, and she was going to find out why. Spreading her wings once more, Celestia dove for the Archmage’s tower. It was not Starswirl that Celestia met when she landed before the balcony doors to the tower. Instead, she was startled to find Dova there. The griffon paused, claw raised in the act of knocking on the glass, and blinked at Celestia’s sudden arrival by her side. “Oh. Princess. Didn’t expect to see you here so early.” “Dova.” Celestia repeated a mantra in her mind—Something is wrong. Something is wrong—to keep from forgetting her cause. Only the need for basic courtesy kept her from shoving past her old friend and marching into the laboratory. “What has you coming to visit Starswirl?” Dova rubbed the back of her neck where the feathers and fur turned black and grumbled before answering. “Neck problems. I swear, it’s like it’s on fire or something.” Concern attempted to wedge its way between Celestia and her focus, but she shook it away with a rustle of her wings. “I see. Let us hope the Archmage has a remedy.” Her voice was cold, but she didn’t dare let herself lose track of what was important. She trusted Dova. She didn’t trust her own mind. Celestia flinched. That almost makes it sound as if I’m going crazy. Shoving the distraction aside, she used her magic to push the door open. “Come, let us find the old wizard.” “Umm…” Dova bowed as Celestia walked past. “I-it looks as though you have important business to attend to with him. I’ll talk to him later. It doesn’t hurt that bad, really.” Her friend felt slighted! Celestia started to turn back—No! No distractions! “I apologize, Dova. I promise not to take up too much of his time.” The doors banged shut behind her, leaving Celestia alone in the laboratory. The place was dark. Gritting her teeth in frustration, Celestia picked her way around the books and tables and assorted bric-a-brac. Why couldn’t the tower’s ceilings be taller? She’d have had the ceiling raised decades ago if Starswirl hadn’t— She kicked a nearby table, causing bottles to rattle. “I am not going to be sidetracked!” Stomping her way through the clutter, she reached the stairs and climbed. She called for Starswirl at the second floor and, upon hearing no reply, hurried onward before the lingering yellow mist on that floor could gain a foothold on her attention. The third floor tempted her with a green flame glowing in the center of the room, but she somehow resisted the anxious desire to make sure it wasn’t dangerous. In the back of her mind, a familiar voice noted that she was treating inanimate objects as if they might be actively trying to sabotage her, and that was ridiculous. More and more, Celestia viewed that little whisper to be treacherous. She wasn’t insane, she was devoted. She came to an abrupt stop at the top of the stairs. All thought of avoiding distractions fled at the sight of Starswirl dangling from the ceiling from a system of pulleys and ribbons. He hung sideways, legs twisted akimbo in wild positions that couldn’t possibly be comfortable. His neck was free from such restrictions, limply lolling upside down such that his horn nearly scraped the floor. His tongue dangled out of his loose lips as if it hoped to lick up crumbs from the ground. For a frightening instant Celestia suspected he’d somehow gotten himself killed by one of his experiments – something she’d seen coming decades ago, in truth. Her pulse slowed at the sound of his snores, the one thing proving he had not, in fact, unintentionally brought about his own demise. Sighing, Celestia trotted through the wizard’s living quarters, which took up the entire level of the tower. Despite being filled with opened books, empty plates, and robes discarded haphazardly, this was by far the cleanest place in the whole tower. After picking her way through the mess and steering clear of the random bottles of questionable contents, she paused at his side and nudged him lightly. “Starswirl.” He snorted, grumbled, and made a motion that was probably meant to be an attempt at rolling over. When he failed to rouse, she jabbed his side with the tip of her hoof. “Wake up, old goat.” More grumbling. His foreleg moved to swat her away, but proved unable to escape from some ribbon looped just above the elbow. After a while it gave up, and still Starswirl didn’t awaken. Let him be. He doesn’t get enough sleep as it is. Just go back and— Celestia’s reaction to that voice was starting to become instinctual. Forcing her lips into a thin line, she backed away and took in the complex array that held him aloft. Her eyes fell upon a lone knot, and she promptly burned through it with a hint of magic. The ribbon gave with a snap, and Starswirl dropped unceremoniously to the floor. “Hairballs!” The wizard jerked into a sitting position, ribbon wrapped over his eyes and dangling from his muzzle. “I wasn’t looking at nothing! It was just some mash potatoes and gravy, I swear!” Celestia cocked an eyebrow. “Good morning to you too, Starswirl.” He cocked his head. “Eh? Celestia? Why’s it so dark?” Rolling her eyes, she levitated the ribbon from his face. That was about as much as she could do, considering how tangled up he was. “I’m tempted to ask what possible experiment could lead you to do such a ridiculous thing—” “And it might have worked, too.” He wriggled his forehooves free of ribbons before looking up at the pulleys. He gasped. “Hey, my ribbons! You cut my ribbons!” “Starswirl.” “I’ll have you know that it took me four hours to get the orientation just right so that my body could undergo the perfect—” “Starswirl.” He growled, though she couldn’t tell whether it was at her or at the ribbon that refused to unwrap from his barrel. “Yes. What?” She glared at him, feeling the little sun within her grow. “There is something wrong and I need your help to do something about it.” “Oh, yeah?” He continued to fight with his tormentor, not even granting her a glance. “What is it this time?” The words died on her lips. Indeed, what was it? A shadow. But more! She just didn’t know what ‘more’ really meant. How could she explain something so alien and unknowable? He might not even believe her. She barely believed her. Maybe she should just forget it and—No. She couldn’t give in to her anxieties again! All she had to do was tell him. It shouldn’t be that hard. But even with that internal pep talk, she hesitated to speak. “I… I’ve been seeing things. Feeling things. There’s something in my head, Starswirl. Something telling me that everything is fine. It’s not.” He finally looked at her directly, straight eyebrows completing his deadpan look. “I think that’s called practical thought.” Just as she’d feared. For a moment – only a moment – she considered forgetting the whole thing. Was that her talking, or was it… whatever was going on with her? She would not let it win. She would be decisive about this! Standing to her full height, Celestia stared imperiously down her muzzle at him. “Something is wrong, Starswirl, and there is a force of some kind actively trying to keep me from noticing. We need to determine what that something is and what it is hiding.” Grumbling, the archmage rubbed at the back of his neck. “Twilight and I determined there’s no mischievous magics in the area. And I distinctly recall your disinterest my sound advice regarding the potential for changeling infiltrators. What more do you want from me?” He growled and increased the force of his rubbing. “Bloody sunlight, why does my neck itch so much?” “I ignored your advice because you were being unreasonable,” she countered coolly, not daring to mention she couldn't recall him giving her any in the first place. “But now I know that something is wrong.” “And what, exactly, is wrong?” He finally stopped scratching and began to stretch, his old bones popping with his motions. Celestia hesitated once more, her mind going back to… to what? In her room, and a forest… there had been a forest, hadn’t there? It was happening again. Her mouth dried up and her heart twisted as she struggled to remember exactly what drove her to come here. “I… Shadow. I remember shadow. And a f-force that tried to… to…” She took a couple deep breaths in an effort to maintain her calm. “It’s fading. It’s fading, Starwirl. It won’t let me remember the details.” He stood up from his stretching and took in her appearance, brows gradually rising. “Celestia? Are you alright?” “No!” Her wings snapped open, sending smaller objects flying in the resultant wind. “I feel something watching me. It is in my head and pretending to be me and wanting me to forget and not worry and relax and I don’t need to do any of those things! I felt it yesterday in… in the place…” She struggled to remember, digging through her mind for some recognition, sweat beading on her brow as she realized how bad the situation really was. To make her forget the name of such a familiar place as—“Ponyville! I saw it in Ponyville.” He nodded, at last really focusing upon her. He took a step closer and raised his hoof in a supplicating motion. “Ponyville. Okay. More. Come now, Celestia, what did you see?” “I-I can’t remember.” She sank to her haunches, knees trembling beneath her. “I can’t remember, Starswirl. I just know that it’s big and malicious and is trying to make me not think about anything even remotely worrying.” Another nod, this time accompanied by a hum. His brow furrowed and he rubbed his lengthy beard. Celestia waited for him to respond, her wings fidgeting. At last, he looked to her. His lips raised in a calm smile, and the tension in his face relaxed. “You know, Equestria is at peace.” She scowled and shook her head. “I don’t know about that.” “Don’t you?” He stepped closer and reared up to set his forehooves on her shoulders. She leaned back a bit, not sure he’d ever come so close to her before. “You did it, Celestia. Equestria is safe. But you’ve been fighting for that for a very long time, haven’t you?” Celestia was tempted to push him away. Having this pony, whom she’d known since his foalhood, suddenly so close left her with a mysterious twisting sensation in her guts, as if she might become sick. The feeling made it hard for her to focus on his words. “W-what are you getting at?” “That you’ve been fighting for too long.” He smiled, but his eyes were sad. “Far too long. I think you don’t know how to do anything else, and so you’ve conjured up this shadow monster to deal with. But there is no monster, Celestia.” He thought she was making the whole thing up! That inner sun came back with a vengeance, but Celestia reined it in with the skill of centuries of practice, such that the flames became more like ice. She took his hooves in her magic and gently forced them back to the floor. “I am not imagining things. I am not losing my mind. There is something out there, Starswirl.” He scrutinized her with a heavy-lidded stare, then sat back and sighed. He began rubbing the back of his neck once more. “Of course there is, Celestia. Tell you what, I’ll do some digging into this ‘Shadow Monster’ thing of yours. Meanwhile, why don’t you go see Twilight?” Celestia blinked. “Twilight?” “Twilight.” He smirked, only to grimace as his scratching intensified. “Confounded itch… Look, Twilight worships the ground you walk on. She’s your lovely little yes mare, and I know she’ll be more than happy to help you, eh, ‘iron out the kinks,’ if you will.” Cocking her head with ears perked, Celestia repeated his choice of words in her mind. “I don’t follow.” “Of course you don’t. Of course I don’t. Nopony needs to be ‘aware,’ so to speak. It’s only the worst kept secret in Equestria.” His words entered her ears, but they made no sense. Were there rumors going around regarding Celestia and Twilight? What kind of rumors? “Starswirl, would you please elaborate on what this secret is supposed to be between me and… and…” She stared at him, mind locked upon the two names. Starswirl. Twilight. Twilight and Starswirl. Two ponies she knew. Two ponies she loved. Two ponies she’d trained. Two ponies. Her blood ran cold. “Why are you here?” “Hmm?” He paused in his scratching to glance at her, glower disappearing at her tone. His ears perked and his tail flicked. “What do you mean? This is my room.” He wasn’t supposed to be here. If Twilight was here… “You’re not supposed to be here.” With an exaggerated air, he turned his body to look left, then right, then back at her. “And where am I supposed to be?” “Not here.” Celestia’s pulse rose once more, creating a drumbeat in her folded ears. “N-not here. Not in the same world as Twilight. She is my student. And you are…” He stiffened. His forelegs locked and his ears rose. His lips became a straight line and his eyes focused upon her as if she’d become the most important pony in existence. It was neither a friendly nor an aggressive look. When he spoke, his voice came out cold. “What am I, Celestia?” For a few tender moments, silence reigned between them. Something flashed in Celestia’s mind, a scene that disappeared from her gaze so quickly she might have only imagined it. It hadn’t been clear, but it stole her breath away. She’d seen him with that cold, emotionless gaze before. She’d never, ever wanted to see it again. As the ice in her veins spread through her entire body, Celestia turned and ran from him. Only one thought came to mind, but it seared her skull like a lance from the sun itself. Starswirl was dead. Only one place might provide Celestia with answers, and so she’d spent the last several hours in the Canterlot Archives. To her frustration, they disappointed. She had considered calling upon the archivists and librarians employed at the castle to help in her search, but what would she tell them? Somehow, trying to explain that the Royal Archmage who regularly perused these shelves before the eyes of everypony was supposed to be dead didn’t seem like a wise maneuver. Add that with the lingering sense of being watched at all times, and they’d think she’d gone senile. She couldn’t blame them. Celestia was tempted to question her own sanity, given the things she now knew. Assuming that she ‘knew’ anything, of course. Everything that had happened since the battle was a mishmash of muddled memories and dark, barely discernible recollections. But she wasn’t senile. Not yet, at least. All she needed was a clue, and perhaps some help. At the time, she’d thought there was only one pony for the job. Unfortunately, Twilight proved as effective as Celestia did. She sat in the middle of a tall circle of books, with more adding to the pile every second. The tomes flew past her eyes at a steady pace, pausing for an instant before being discarded. Celestia watched this from nearby, somehow managing not to wince every time another book hit the pile like so much trash. Since when did Twilight disrespect books? She wouldn’t challenge it. Nopony could go through a collection like Twilight could, and Celestia desperately needed the help. With the sunlight turning orange in the window, Twilight groaned and let a final book pass before her heavy-set eyes. “I’m sorry, Princess. There just aren’t any spells regarding the things you’re describing.” “But that can’t be right.” Celestia barely noticed the whining pitch of her own voice. “I know there are spells on memory manipulation and reviving the dead. I put them here!” “Are you sure?” Stretching languidly, Twilight climbed her way out of the valley of tomes. “Maybe you just, uh, ‘think’ you did.” Scowling, Celestia cast her gaze upon the empty shelves and three more book piles further down the lengthy room. “I wouldn’t forget doing battle with a necromancer, Twilight, or making sure his corruption was locked safely away.” Twilight hummed as she came to stand at her side. Her ears folded back. “Well… maybe somepony else took them? It might explain some things.” The very idea brought a shiver down Celestia’s spine. “Yes. Yes, it would. Not just anypony can get into these archives. We’d be dealing with a mage of significant power.” With lips pursed and eyes narrowed, Twilight studied Celestia. After a moment of consideration, she asked, “Have you considered asking Starswirl about it?” The long stare Celestia sent her way made her look away. “I m-mean, who better to know about death and revival than the one who did the reviving?” That’s not a bad point. But Celestia shook her head forcefully. “I can’t ask him. For all I know, he’s being manipulated. I have to keep this between the two of us.” Twilight’s ears perked. Her lips shook, as if she were fighting not to smile. “I appreciate your trust.” “And I appreciate your confidentiality.” Celestia shifted from hoof to hoof, unable to meet her student’s eyes. “Twilight, do you remember what happened in Ponyville? In Town Hall?” Now it was Twilight who shivered. “How could I forget? It was almost like… like…” Celestia waited, breath hitched as she took in Twilight’s squirming form. “Yes? Like what?” Chewing her lip, Twilight kept her head low as she met Celestia’s gaze. “I felt as though I didn’t belong. Like… I’m not really Twilight. It was so weird. How could I not be Twilight Sparkle? But while I was in that building, I could hear a little voice hissing in the back of my head, telling me I was a lie. I’m not a lie.” Her eyes, now big and hopeful, pleaded with Celestia. “Am I?” The words made Celestia sag. She began to smile… and promptly scowled. Are you so relieved that you would take Twilight’s fears to be a good thing? She moved a little closer to Twilight so that their muzzles nearly touched. “No, Twilight. You are no lie. You are my wonderful, brilliant student. But you’re also the only pony I’ve met so far who has experienced something like what I have. We’re going to have to trust one another to get through this.” “Like believing in each other when we say something weird is happening.” Twilight bowed her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at first, Princess.” “It’s quite alright, my little pony.” Celestia somehow managed a smile for her beloved student. “I would have doubted me, too.” “But I know better.” Twilight fidgeted, raised her legs, lowered them. “I… I mean…” Her eyes began to water. Recognizing the signs being presented, Celestia no longer had to force her smile. She reached forward with her wings and pulled Twilight close in a light hug and shushed her. “It’s okay. Really, Twilight, it’s fine.” “It’s not fine.” Twilight pressed her cheek to Celestia’s chest and sniffled. “You’re Celestia. You’d never lie to me, never lead me astray. For a moment I actually thought you were…” “Crazy?” In spite of the bitter taste the word left in her mouth, Celestia chuckled. “I suppose when you get to be my age, you start to develop some quirks.” Twilight replied with a hiccup-laced giggle, her hooves rubbing at Celestia’s coat gently. It was a familiar motion, one she’d done as a filly, not unlike a kitten kneading her mother. The sensation sent a wave of nostalgia through Celestia, reminding her of quieter times with a book beside a warm fire. They remained that way for a while, Celestia reminiscing as Twilight snuggled against her. With time, however, Celestia came to recognize the peace for what it was: another distraction. If she let them linger on for too long, she’d neglect the entire reason she’d come here. Her eyes drifted once more to the piles of books, which served as the reminder of her search. She opened her mouth— Twilight beat her to it. “You know, we could retire for the night.” The tone of her voice caught Celestia off guard. She’d never heard Twilight speak in such a breathless manner. Glancing down, she found the young mare breathing a heavy sigh of contentment. “Retire?” “I’m scared,” Twilight whispered. “You’re scared. I think if I, y’know… stayed with you tonight?” Pink bloomed across her face. She wouldn’t meet Celestia’s gaze. “Maybe we could, um, ‘comfort’ one another. Right?” Ah. Celestia smiled once more for her student. “Like when you were a filly, hmm?” Eyelids lowered. Lips turned up in a smirk. The bloom in Twilight’s cheeks intensified. “Not even remotely.” Celestia stared. Twilight stared right back, her hooftip rubbing little circles that went lower and lower… The air left Celestia’s lungs. She leapt back, wings bursting out in a splash of feathers. “T-Twilight, what are you doing?” Twilight managed to keep from falling on her face, but only barely. Her head jerked up and her eyes became wide like saucers. “What do you mean? I th-thought you wanted it.” She took a step closer. The approach was matched by Celestia’s retreat. “Why would I want something that I know you don’t want?” Her beloved student froze, her ears folding back and her lip trembling. “W-what do you mean? Of course I wanted it. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. You, me together. I—” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I thought you loved me.” The little voice, the one that had mostly left her alone ever since she’d entered the archives, piped up in her mind. She’s hurting. You’re hurting her. Stop being a coward and accept your feelings. With a snarl, Celestia whipped around to glare at nothing. “I won’t let you have her!” “Nopony has me!” She turned around and yelped; Twilight was running straight for her, cheeks drenched in fresh tears. “Nopony else can ever have me!” Celestia had no time to think; she lit up her horn and cast the spell. In a flash of yellow light, she twisted the world, and in the next instant she was on the other side of the room. She spun around, heart pounding, and watched Twilight slide to a stop. “Stop this, Twilight! You’re not like this.” Twilight turned back, her sob piercing Celestia’s ears. “Yes I am! Y-you’re supposed to love me!” “I do love you, Twilight.” Celestia began inching her way forward, fighting to keep her voice steady. “I love you like a daughter. And I know you well enough to know that this isn’t you. My Twilight never looked at me like that, not once.” “P-Princess, I…” The young mare sniffed and sat, her entire body trembling. She stared at the floor. “I’m me, aren’t I? I’m me. And you… Part of me says you’re right, that I should be ash-shamed, but another, bigger part says that I… that I…” Cautious steps. “It’s alright, Twilight.” Slow steps. “We’ll fix this.” No sudden movements. “Everything will be back to normal.” Tentatively, Celestia reached for her student. She waited, forcing her breathing to be slow and steady even as her pulse thudded in her ears. Please, Twilight. Come back to me. Twilight’s ears lowered. Rose. Lowered again. She rubbed her muzzle. At last she looked up. When their eyes met, Celestia’s breath stopped; one of Twilight's pupils had become a yellow, draconian slit. “There’s something wrong with me.” Twilight raised herself up to her full height, legs spread and gaze firm. “But I don’t care. I love you, Celestia. And I’m going to prove it.” She took a commanding step closer. Celestia stepped back. “No. Twilight—” “Yes.” The little pony licked her lips. Her tail flicked. “I’m yours, Celestia. Tell me I’m yours.” “No.” “Tell me I’m yours!” Twilight leapt forward, and Celestia teleported once more. She stood near the center of the room, turned around— A bright flash, and Twilight stood before her. “I’m not leaving until I hear it!” Celestia’s heart was like a hummingbird that had been skewered by needles. “Twilight, enough!” She teleported to another part of the room. Twilight flashed into place before her own light had even faded. “No! Tell me you love me, Celestia!” Another teleport, another swift block. “Please, Twilight, stop this!” Teleport. Blocked. “It doesn’t stop until I’m yours!” Celestia backed away, breath coming in shallow bursts and eyes darting around the room. Twilight was too good, better than she should be. The only way to get past her would be to hurt her, and Celestia wouldn’t dare. Not Twilight. Anypony but her. She was being backed into a corner next to a window, Twilight’s aggression leaving her no room to maneuver. She made one last attempt, her voice hitching. “T-Twilight, fight it. Please.” Twilight… No. The creature that looked like Twilight grinned. It was a wicked thing, full of avarice and desire and selfish need. “I don’t want to, Princess.” Celestia was sure her heart had just shattered, its individual pieces cutting into her chest like shards of glass. Yet no matter how much pain she felt, no matter the loathing that filled her at the thought of what had become of her dear student, she knew she’d never be able to harm the pony before her. Even a doppelganger. With no other recourse, Celestia did the one thing Twilight couldn’t counter: she teleported into the open air outside the tower. Twilight's frantic cry reached her through the stone wall. “No! Celestia, come back!” She didn’t listen. She only flew into the orange and purple sky, tears streaming down her cheeks. I’ll save you, Twilight. I promise.