//------------------------------// // Verzweiflung // Story: Not-Yet-Princess Twilight Sparkle and the Tale of the Dark Empress of Teatime // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Beyond the wooden door in the alchemy laboratory, Sunset Shimmer found a garden filled with ponies. They offered no reaction when she opened the door. In fact, they failed to acknowledge her existence altogether. Earth ponies, pale, palid, shuffled around garden plots, each with a blank stare. The one closest to her tended to what appeared to be some kind of cabbages of some sort, which grew by the light of a cluster of bioluminescent toadstools. As for the pegasus ponies, they too were in a sickly state, with many molting their feathers. Careful, mindful of danger, Sunset approached the pony stumbling through the cabbages, and when he did not respond, she waved her right front hoof in front of his eyes. Still nothing. It was like they were some sort of metaphorical zombies. Had they been magically lobotomised? Given some alchemical concoction that erased all traces of equinality? There was just nothing there, nothing at all. The pegasus ponies seemed to have it the worst of all, as they were not earth ponies—they did not grow things—but were trapped underground, unable to fly. Upon closer inspection, Sunset found that they had been experimented upon. There were surgical scars in suspect places. One earth pony wasn’t an earth pony at all, but a unicorn—only not a unicorn any longer. When she turned him around, Sunset saw that his horn had been removed and curious fungal growths now sprouted from where his horn once grew. These toadstool like growths were bioluminescent, quite bright, and obviously magical. Did they need magic to grow? A unicorn was a wellspring of magic, for certain. All of this suggested a world without a sun, a world in which darkness ruled. Sunset could not help but be intrigued. “She turned you into a flower pot,” Sunset said to the fungal-infested unicorn. The hornless unicorn groaned, its jaw hanging slack, and shuffled away from Sunset. With no apparent danger, Sunset had a better look around the garden. She found cabbages, corn, beans, what she thought might be potatoes, squash, cucumbers, and eggplants. Some were sickly looking, others appeared quite healthy, so there were varying stages of success to the bioluminescent adaptation. The corn did not grow tall, but rather, it all leaned in towards the glowing fungal cluster in the center of the patch. With the erasure of free will, Sunset noted that the Empress of Teatime had made her subjects compliant. A part of her knew that she should be horrified, but mostly, she was just impressed. Of course, the workers were not spry, so efficiency and output might suffer, but the workers were not uppity and noncompliant, either. A worthwhile trade-off? Perhaps. Of course, Nadir was no doubt trying to perfect the process. This was a work in progress… a brilliant work in progress. Nutter Nadir was a genius… and she had to be stopped. “Twilight, are you alright?” “No.” Then, after a moment, after a long, shuddering, shivery exhale. “Yes. I don’t know.” She squeezed Spike hard enough that smoke came squirting out of his nostrils. It was, indeed, the twilight hour, which had come around at last. What light came through the windows was indirect light, the last remaining vestiges of the glorious day. The coming night now diffused that light, scattered it, and sent it into retreat. Celestia conjured up a blanket, unfurled it, wrapped it around both Twilight and Spike, and then lifted up her half-full teacup, which was most certainly not half-empty. “Is the Mare in the Moon real?” Twilight asked. “That remains to be seen,” Celestia was quick to reply. “Ponies are so quick to blame every bad thing they do on the Mare in the Moon. When caught doing wrong, that seems to be the acceptable excuse: ‘The Mare in the Moon made me do it.’ It is a great way to shrug off accountability.” “But… is she real?” “That seems… doubtful, Twilight. But… you should study about it. In the library. Find out all you can. When you think you’ve found everything that there is to know, create a report and tell me of your findings.” “How do you know about this story?” Celestia paused, uncertain of how to answer. “I don’t,” she said at last. “A lot of it is conjecture drawn from unknown, unreliable sources. Sunny Sunshine told me very little upon her return. I had to rely upon other means, other ways, so that I might piece the story together. I suppose if we compared the version of the story that I am aware of with that of Sunny’s story, they might be very different.” What Celestia did not mention was that others had been inside of Nadir’s ruined, shattered mind, and some of the story had been gleaned from what was found there. Everything was so jumbled, very little made sense, and then there was the fact that something… something had interfered with recovering the information from the ruins of Nadir’s mind. Troubled, Celestia sipped her tea while her apprentice shivered. “The Mare in the Moon scares me.” “Oh, Twilight. Don’t be a silly a pony. She’s nothing to be afraid of.” Celestia was quick to add, “If she’s real, that is. She’s a ghost story told around a crackling fire. A spooky tale told before bedtime by irresponsible brothers trying to scare their little sisters. Twilight, if we blame her for our every terrible action, it means that we never have to accept responsibility for our wrongdoings. The Mare in the Moon is just an excuse, really.” “Shiny said she eats up foals who stay up past bedtime.” “Oh, did he?” “Yeah.” Twilight nodded. “I think he wanted me asleep so he could spend time with Cadance.” A wry smile almost spread across Celestia’s muzzle. “What is tonsil hockey, and why does my brother want to play it so badly?” “Well, Twilight, that involves a different story. For now, we should finish the one we’ve started.” “Yeah, I guess.” “Now, let’s see… where were we?” “I’m upset that my brother wants to play hockey with Cadance, and not me. It’s not fair.” Twilight’s sudden words very nearly caused Celestia to drop her teacup, and all of the celestial bodies she was currently manipulating during their complicated dance through the heavens were in grave danger of falling down as well. Celestia was forced to quickly recover her wits, lest there be a celestial catastrophe. To have held up the heavens for all these years, all by herself, only for all of it to come crashing down because of a few precocious words from little Twilight. Twilight would never know how close she came to ending all of life as she knew it. Once, Twilight Velvet told a tale of how Twilight Sparkle caused her to drop a casserole mere moments before it was to be served at a dinner party, and now Celestia understood why. Of course, dropping a casserole was nothing compared to allowing multiple complex life-sustaining orbits to fail. She considered her response to Twilight’s words, and after a moment of intense reflection, she decided to ignore them for now. Addressing them might require explaining, and that… that would be awful. “Here, Twilight,” Celestia said, preparing a distraction, “hold Smarty Parts. She looks scared.” “She does!” Twilight was eager to tuck her doll between herself and her dragon, and the blanket was pulled back into place. “Sorry, Miss Pants!” With everything right in the world once more, Celestia continued her story… The mines formed a vast network of warrens, a maze that Sunset was forced to navigate. Unable to cast spells, she was forced to rely upon her other senses, which she had to admit, seemed dull and stunted. Up to this point, she’d relied upon her magic far too much for everything, but she understood now that this needed to change. Sensing an incline and detecting up shouldn’t be this hard. This unacceptable laziness would be purged. She slipped from shadow to shadow, falling back on what felt right, what felt best. While other ponies prefered the light of day, Sunset rather liked the cover of darkness, at least she did during moments like this. Her blood still burned with a fever, sweat ran rivulets down her sides, but her rage sustained her. The words of the Mare in the Moon bothered her a great deal. She wanted to be insulted? Put down? Was she that insecure? That stupid statue had been silenced forever… and soon, Nadir would be dealt with as well. But how? The Mare in the Moon was too treacherous to trust. With honeyed words, she had sent Nadir away to watch the stars, leaving Sunset free to navigate these tunnels. But for how long? Sooner or later, Nadir was bound to return, and when she did, she would have to be dealt with. Somehow. Sunset didn’t know how this ended, not yet. Nadir had to be neutralised somehow. Killing her seemed as good of an option as any, but Sunset knew that her master would not approve. Tearing the souls out of others? Forbidden magics practiced in secret? Celestia had some explaining to do—but confronting her felt impossible. Sunset knew that trying to explain how she knew would be a real problem, and Celestia would be quick to turn the tables. For all of her talk about purity and goodness, Celestia was a fraud. That is, if she did, in fact, know soul-tearing magic. Why wouldn’t Celestia know it? Almost overcome, panting, Sunset came to a halt, leaned against a wall, and tried not to wretch. Her head was throbbing in the worst way, her ears rang, and the sudden rush of wooziness was almost unbearable. She felt something… a presence… and it was every bit as terrible as it was awful. There was… magic… and it was so strong that she could feel it curdling her blood, even as it coursed through her veins like an infection. You deluded fool. Did you really think that you’d be rid of me that easily? Sunset feared her knees would buckle because the thunderous voice inside of her head was overwhelming. Each word was like dull, searing-hot steel scraping against the inside of her skull, and Sunset was certain that her eyes would come popping right out of their sockets. She squeezed them shut, trying to prevent this very thing from happening, and braced herself when she sensed that whatever it was that was inside her head was about to speak again. You are an unsuitable vessel, but you will walk the world. I will make you walk the world. When at last you encounter a vessel compatible with my needs, I will possess them, and you will know my terror. Twilight can only last so long, before the midnight hour comes round at last, and my darkness shall be eternal. When the clock strikes midnight, I shall unravel your very existence. Before your end, you will kneel before me. I will show you power, and it shall be the last lesson that you ever learn. Know this, as you walk the world an outcast, you bring the shadow of your own doom where'er you go. Then, quite unexpectedly, the thunderous, overbearing voice was gone. Sunset, still reeling, endured a mighty struggle to remain upright. She felt… dirty somehow. Unclean. It was as if she’d been stained by something, something which couldn’t be scrubbed away. A greasy spot left on her soul. Telling Celestia about this would be impossible; she’d have to explain how it happened. Get moving, a soft voice said within her head. You must survive. I will make you survive. You will live until such a time that my revenge upon you is complete. Now, get moving. So compelled, Sunset found her legs obeying, and for a moment, it felt as though she was a passenger in her own body. She lurched forwards, away from the wall, off balance. Whatever was controlling her, she had the sense it was having to learn how to walk on short legs. But then the odd sensation faded, and she found herself back in control of her own limbs. “I’ll resist,” Sunset said to whatever was inside of her. “I’ll fight you to the end.” You won’t even remember, the voice between her ears replied. Who and what I am cannot be revealed. Do you think that I am a fool? That I would take such careless risks? I am nothing like you. You are nothing. My sister crafted you for compliance and weakness. Before Sunset could respond, she was overcome with a crashing wave of dizziness. A kitchen. Sunset found herself in a kitchen, of sorts, with no memory of how she’d come here. Her head was achy and she was so parched that she could feel her eyelids scraping against her eyeballs in the most unpleasant manner. The remains of an animal carcass lay upon a wooden butcher’s block, and she found that she was strangely not bothered by the sight of it. In fact, she found herself a bit peckish. Almost in a daze, she crossed the kitchen and went into the pantry, the place she needed to be. Why did she need to be here? She didn’t know, but this was the place. There was food here; this was a well-stocked pantry. But she wasn’t after food, no. She was after tea. There it was, along the top shelves. Tea. Not just any tea. Special tea. By itself, the tea was mostly harmless, but when paired with the activating agent, it nullified magic. If another activation agent was chosen, it sapped free will and did great damage to the mind; it became a hot, delicious cup of slavery. How did she know this? She didn’t know how she knew. Somehow, she’d always known. The knowledge had been there with her all along, it seemed. Natural genius. That was the reason why she’d been chosen; natural talent. She was the best of the very best of what Canterlot had to offer. It didn’t matter that she came from peasant stock, no. She was special. With a slow, deliberate tilt of her head, she looked up at the tea tins stashed away on the top shelf. She had work to do. Nadir was a loose end, and loose ends had to be dealt with, lest everything unravel. One had to be careful when knitting a sweater of evil. What made her think that? She wasn’t sure. In fact, she didn’t want to know. Thinking about it made her head hurt. It was better to go along with things and not think. Besides, she had tea to make. Teatime. Yes, it was teatime. When she thought about magic, her horn sparked. That would not do. She needed magic, but the terrible poison still burned her blood. A little telekinesis could be mustered though, and that was better than nothing. Better than fumbling around like a magicless peasant. Lifting the first tin, the pain was almost too much to bear, but she held on somehow. The pain had to be felt. For whatever reason, the torture was welcome… necessary. She deserved this torture. One by one, the tins were taken down and placed upon the counter. The coursing static in her brain caused her face to contort into a rictus of agony, but she never faltered, her actions never ceased. Her body moved in an almost mechanical manner, all jerky and twitchy, or perhaps it was better described as a marionette. Up and down, her head bobbed, as if keeping time to some unfathomable, incomprehensible song, a lullaby from the darkness beyond the stars. A kettle was placed upon the stove, and a fresh log was tossed over the still-glowing embers. The fire, so kindled, woke up from its slumber and began to devour the offered fuel. With a turn of her head, Sunset looked at the half-butchered carcass, and her orange tongue peeked out from between her cracked, dried-out lips. Food would have to come later, because right now, it was time to serve tea. Head bobbing up and down, her tongue still sliding over parched lips, Sunset waited for the kettle to come to a boil… Cool night air filled Sunset’s lungs, and some of the cruel burning subsided. She stood in the mouth of the mine, gulping in much-needed fresh air. Sunset was in no hurry, because she knew exactly where Nadir was. How did she know? Because she could see Nadir. Somehow. Nadir was looking up at the moon, and Sunset, somehow, was looking down at her. It was midnight now. Midnight. Celestia’s powers were at their weakest. This was the hour when Celestia truly rested, because her powers were so weak. Hidden beneath a curtain of draped midnight, Sunset was free to act with impunity, as Celestia’s ever-watchful eye would be closed. Sleeping. What was done in the dark would go unknown by the light. Careful, cautious, Sunset crept out of the mine and began to make her way to the clearing where Nadir was stargazing. Sunset’s head was filled with hazy, indistinct dreams. Lullabies. It was like standing outside of a theatre and hearing the show inside. Nadir dreamed of maternal things; of having a mother, of being a mother, and of having a family. Hers was the desire of orphans everywhere, and Sunset was going to crush those dreams. Nadir had outlived her usefulness. The plan, such as it was, had changed. Sunset lurched forward, a steaming teapot held aloft behind her. Her eyes were spiderwebbed with vivid scarlet and the corners of her mouth were crusted over with partially dried drool. She walked as though she was still a foal learning how legs worked. A crazed gleam could be seen in her bloodshot eyes; her twitching lips alternated between a snarl, a smile, and a scowl. If there was ever a word to describe Sunset at this moment, that word was lunacy. “Go to sleep, little foal,” Sunset murmured, safe in the knowledge that she would not give herself away. “Go to sleep, little foal. Your mama’s gone away, and your daddy’s gone to stay, didn’t leave nopony but the foal.” Unable to help herself, she cackled. Just a bit. It just sort of happened. “Don't you weep, pretty foal.” Still lurching ahead, Sunset continued her demented lullabye, relying upon its magic to keep Nadir pacified. “Don't you weep, pretty foal. You and me and the Darkness makes three… don't need no other lovin’, foal.” What curious magic Sunset found herself in command of; the absolute control of others. “Go to sleep, you little foal.” Softly she crept closer, and Nadir was in view now. “Go to sleep, you little foal. I’m gonna and lay your bones on the alabaster stones, and you’ll be my ever-lovin’ foal…” Nadir swayed, lulled into a false calm, and was utterly unaware of Sunset, who snuck up behind her. The lullabye changed to a wordless murmur, a soft, soothing sound, and Sunset now stood over Nadir, looking down at her whilst she looked up at the night sky. This was power. Unbelievable power. Stealth unimaginable. Nadir was spellbound. “Nadir, you pathetic dungheap, it’s time to drink your tea and go to bed,” Sunset whispered into Nadir’s ear. Her every word dripped with malice. “Drink every drop.” Eyes vacant, Nadir tilted her head back, and waited for her tea. The tea was piping hot. Not boiling, and maybe not scalding, but steaming, piping hot. Enough to burn. To cause pain. When it was poured down her throat, the spell was broken, and a gurgling scream caused the tea to come foaming and bubbling out of her mouth. Sunset held Nadir’s head in place, kept her jaws prised open, and she kept pouring, oblivious, uncaring of Nadir’s pained distress. Somehow, Nadir pulled away, she shoved Sunset, and coughing, sputtering, she went crawling away over the grass. “No!” she croaked through now-blistered lips, her voice an unrecognisable spectre of its former self. “No, no more! The magic goes away!” “I know.” Ignoring the pain, Sunset seized Nadir with her telekinesis, flipped her over, and once more, she prised the mare’s jaws open. She stomped down upon Nadir’s stomach, which forced out a ragged, wet cough, and then, without mercy, she continued to pour more piping hot tea down Nadir’s throat. Nadir’s lips, muzzle, nose, and the whole of her face was blistered. So was her neck and front legs. With one hoof solidly upon Nadir’s stomach, Sunset emptied the contents of the teapot, and forced the liquid down Nadir’s gullet. Then, looking down, eager, Sunset watched as the intelligence slowly retreated out of the stricken mare’s eyes. Nadir’s struggles slowed, weakened, and then ceased altogether as the last of the light went out in her eyes, as the windows to her soul went dark. “Nighty night, Nadir.” Dropping the now-empty teapot onto the soaked grass, Sunset stumbled away on legs that somehow felt far away and disconnected. Nadir was now just like her victims down in the mines below, a mindless, drooling creature, driven by instinct. Sunset threw a wild kick at her, but was too far away and almost took a tumble. Now, all that was left to do was to clean up, and then go home.