“Black chaos comes, and the fettered gods of the earth say, Let there be light.”
There’s something immensely liberating about having nothing left to lose.
“What are you trying to do, kill us?” shrieked the engineer.
“What does it look like?” I roared back, using my magic to shovel another load of coal into the furnace.
The quickest way back to Canterlot, aside from flying, was by train. But with all the refugees fleeing the chaos, the only trains running were going away from the city. So I’d had to commandeer one.
“Don’t!” he shrieked, slamming the furnace door shut. “You’ll blow the boiler!”
“Does it look like I care?” I bellowed, tearing the door open again, and shoving another load of coal inside.
I had no authority to speak of—none that he’d remember, anyways. But you’d be surprised how persuasive an angry unicorn a full head taller than yourself could be. I’d made the engineer disconnect every car except the coal car, then turn the whole engine around.
And everything was going surprisingly well—at least until we got into the mountains.
The engine, rattling and hissing at the joints, screamed around a bend, leaning perilously outwards. The engineer howled in terror and clung to the steel railing. I risked a glance downward, then almost retched; there was nothing below me except a thousand-foot drop to the Canter Valley below.
Then, with an almighty crash, the engine tipped back onto the track and raced on. The engineer slumped to the floor and murmured a prayer to Harmony. I just looked up at the track ahead—and paled.
Up ahead were the walls and towers of the Canterlot Palace, the place I’d called home for my entire life. From this angle, it looked so small and delicate, almost like something in a snowglobe. Or, it would have, were it not for the swirling, purple storm that blotted out the sun.
No—I leaned closer—not a storm. A hole in the sky. It boiled as if alive, swirling and twisting and writhing in patterns that made your eyes water--and, over it all, a low, dull roar that shook you to your very bones. It looked as if the storm were ready to eat Canterlot whole the second someone gave the word.
My eyes widened, and I turned to the coal car behind us, my horn already ablaze—but the car was empty, save for a few stray lumps in the corners. I stared for a half-second, then turned back to the furnace again, my horn glowing even brighter.
“What are you doing?” the engineer cried, scrambling to his hooves again.
“Saving Equestria!” I bellowed back.
Fire—burning, golden fire—shot from my horn and into the open door of the furnace. It exploded back out again, spraying sparks and coal dust around the little cabin, and billowed out of the smokestack above us in a golden roostertail. The engineer shrieked and grabbed the railing as the engine lurched forward. But I just stared into the fire, willing the train to go faster—to get to Canterlot there while there was a Canterlot left to save.
* * *
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
The engineer literally hung on the pull-cord for the train’s whistle, while I turned and kicked the brake lever. The train lurched, and I crashed against the control console. I stood, a little dizzy, and saw the train station rushing towards us—and rushing too fast. I screamed, the engineer screamed, the train itself screamed. I lit my horn—
The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back, head spinning, on the floor of the little control cabin. I stumbled to my hooves, shook my head a little, then turned to the engineer where he lay quivering on the floor.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He whimpered, then peeked at me from under one of his arms. “You almost killed us,” he croaked. “Are you crazy?”
“You’ll understand. Eventually.” I swallowed. “I hope.”
He looked around. “My train…” he moaned.
I looked up and winced myself. “Send the bill to the Palace,” I said. “Care of Princess Celestia.”
He peered up at me. “Who?” he asked.
I sighed, then hopped off the locomotive. Squeezed into every square inch of the platform was a crowd of refugees--a crowd now standing completely still, staring at the wreckage in a frightened silence. I flashed them a grin, then stepped forward.
“ ‘Scuse me, folks,” I said. “Official Royal business. Coming through!”
The crowd parted silently, and I trotted out and onto the street. As I left the station, I looked around, got my bearings, and started galloping towards the Palace.
That run—it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, but it felt like hours—was one of the most unsettling experiences of my life. Canterlot, ordinarily buzzing with the lives of a hundred thousand ponies, was silent as the grave. Sidewalks with ponies pressed so close together, you could barely breathe—parks filled with the joyous cries of children—shops and markets roaring with the cheerful sounds of shopping—all of them, completely silent and empty. And, behind it all, the purple-black stain on the sky that threatened to consume everything, and the roaring of the end of the world.
If I wasn’t already having nightmares, that would have done it for sure, let me tell you.
I galloped up the front steps of the Palace. The gates stood abandoned, hanging open a few feet. I squeezed my way through the gap, then dashed into the Palace itself. I ran into the main foyer, then skidded to a halt.
I looked around at the empty foyer, my mouth suddenly dry. I just realized that I had forgotten one thing: the Palace was huge. I knew my way around, but how in Equestria was I supposed to find one pony, in all this emptiness--if she was even still here…?
“Celestia? Cece, is that you?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin, then whipped my head around. Behind me, Soarin’, still in his Wonderbolts suit, was gliding in for a landing.
“What are you doing here?” I gasped.
Soarin’ landed lightly a few feet in front of me.
“I saw you from the air,” he said. “I just thought—”
“Listen,” I interrupted. “There’s no time. Do you know where Princess Luna is?”
He nodded. “She was up on the east side of the Residence Tower,” he said. “On one of the balconies.”
I nodded my thanks, then turned to leave.
“Let me help,” he said, taking a step after me.
I hesitated, then turned back to Soarin’. I pulled him close, then kissed him once on the forehead. As I pulled away, he smiled weakly.
“Thanks,” I said, “but no. Get out of here.”
Soarin’s face fell. He opened his mouth to protest, but I shook my head.
“This is something I have to do on my own,” I said. “Really.”
Soarin’ bit his lip, then looked up at me again.
“I need you to trust me,” I said. “Please. Go help with the evacuation, if you have to.”
He closed his mouth and, slowly, nodded. “I do,” he said. “And I will.”
I smiled at him, then bent down and gave him another kiss--on the lips, this time. “Thank you,” I said.
Soarin’ turned and spread his wings. He was just about to take off—but then, he froze. He turned back to look at me, a frown on his face. He ran his eyes over me, taking in every detail—and finally, pausing on the fleshy scars over my shoulders.
“We’ll talk later,” I said. “You should get going. Really.”
He bit his lip, then nodded. He turned back, then took off and flew down the hall and out the doors. I watched him go, then turned and looked at the doors leading deeper into the Palace. I took a deep breath, then broke into a run.
And, as my breath began to come in ragged gasps again, I realized I was smiling.
It took me another ten minutes or so to find Luna—on a balcony on the east side of the Palace, like Soarin’ had said. I stood there, in the doorway, my chest heaving, and watched her for a moment. She stood on a balcony, with her back to me, overlooking the gardens below. She wore the same dress she had that morning, though she had re-done her makeup and her mane, at least. One might as well look presentable when facing down the end of all things, I suppose.
She was wearing her full regalia, too. She had on her official horseshoes and crown, and, through the neckline of her dress, I could see she still wore her black Peytral--the Peytral Ferrum.
I hesitated. Luna looked older than I’d ever seen her. She was, what, seventy? Eighty? I’m not sure even she knew, with the whole Nightmare Moon thing and all. But she was seventy-something in the same way she was tall, or had a navy coat; it was just a part of who she was. And yet, seeing her, standing there, waiting for the end, she actually carried those years of hers. I could read every single one of them—and perhaps a dozen or two more—in the lines etched on her face and in the way she stood, unmoving, looking down at the garden.
I followed her gaze, then swallowed uneasily. Luna was gazing out at the hedge maze—or, where it used to be, at least. Now, all that was left was a low depression, almost a crater, of bare dirt. Above the crater swirled the hole in the sky, lit with the occasional dark flash of lightning. And—I squinted—at the center of the crater, twenty or thirty feet above the ground, hovered a single point of light. The light was almost blinding, even from this distance—and, if I wasn’t wrong, it looked like an inky purple tendril reached down from the nightmare sky above and touched that brilliant, burning whatever-it-was.
I swallowed, then stepped forward.
“Princess Luna?” I asked cautiously.
She did not react.
“Auntie?” I asked again, “Do you remember me?”
She turned her head toward me, but only a degree or two. I couldn’t see her eyes—I had no idea if she knew me, or remembered who I was. But she was listening, at least.
I risked another step forward. “You know him, don’t you?” I asked. “Discord, I mean?”
For a second, I wasn’t sure she’d heard me—then, she lowered her chin by a half-inch. A nod.
I swallowed again. “You’ve fought him before, haven’t you?”
Again, a long pause, then another half-inch nod.
I licked my lips. “Then—do you know how to fight him?”
A sudden shiver ran down Luna’s spine, then she bit her lip and shook her head.
“Your Highness,” I said, walking up beside her. “Equestria needs your help. I need your help. I’ve already gone up against Discord once, and he had me beat before I even knew we were fighting. My friends didn’t do much better—and I doubt anyone else in Equestria could.” I took a deep breath, then looked up at her. When she saw me, she looked away.
I reached out, put my hoof on her cheek, and turned her gaze back to meet mine. I looked into her eyes, and I saw a spark of recognition—recognition, then horror—but she looked away.
“Please,” I said. “If you know anything, tell me. You’re the only one who can help, and I… I can’t do this on my own.”
Luna glanced at me, then closed her eyes. But, in that half-second, I thought I saw something in that look of hers… a pain, deep-seated and old, almost forgotten, made raw all over again…
“Princess,” I said. “Whatever it was that went wrong last time… the two of us, we can make it better. We can stop it from happening this time—and, with any luck, stop it from happening ever again.”
With her eyes still closed, Luna grimaced. But, as I watched, her face relaxed again, then hardened—along different lines this time. . And, when she opened her eyes, they were clear and sharp. She looked me in the eye, and the sudden strength in her gaze sent chills down my spine.