The skies over Ponyville were clear, just a few wisps of cloud drifting slowly. The warm sun shone down onto the land below, just as it had since the planet's creation. The town was gone, wiped away by the flood unleashed by the destruction of the Hoofer Dam nearby, just one in a string of incidents during the war to end all wars. There was no life there any longer.
Except for a single purple mare.
Twilight Sparkle had forced herself to go to Ponyville, to face the ruin of her former home, to see where so many of her friends had suffered and died at the hands of the Chaos invaders. She had to confront her own sadness, she had decided, in order to try and progress into the future, to move on. Ponyville was not her home any longer. She didn't know what was, truthfully, which was partly why she was there. As long as some part of her belonged to Ponyville, she could never move on. Not really.
The streets were strewn with debris, mostly wood from the shattered and collapsed buildings, yet anything resembling a complete structure was totally absent. Every building had been erased from history, and, most likely, so had many of the names of the residents. Twilight had undertaken to record every single name she could remember, for posterity, because she did not want to forget the faces of those she had known and those who had fallen. She hadn't known every single resident in town, so her record could never be complete, but the town's archives, in the town hall, had been wiped out with the rest of the building. Nopony else was going to make such a record, and so Twilight would.
The tree-library was gone, but the mighty oak had refused to be erased from history altogether. The roots and the thick stump remained, anchored firmly in the ground, just about the only thing that remained apart from a few water pipes and the outlines of the foundations of other buildings marked in the mud and sludge which covered most of the streets. Twilight perched herself on the edge of the large stump, taking a quill and paper from her saddlebag and starting to write.
Applebloom.
Big Mac.
Granny Smith.
Lyra Heartstrings.
BonBon.
Cheerilee.
Mayor Mare.
Scootaloo.
Sweetie Belle.
Octavia Melody.
Vinyl Scratch.
Roseluck.
Aloe and Lotus.
Mr & Mrs Cake and the twins.
There were more, of course. Countless more, both from Ponyville and elsewhere. There was utter devastation all across the land, from the frozen north to the dusty deserts of the west and the damp coastal plains to the east. Humans, those strange beings from beyond the stars, and Changelings, the old foe from beneath the earth, had seen to that.
Twilight stopped writing and simply looked around for a while, staring blindly into the middle distance, just thinking about what came before, about who and what had been lost. She fell so far into her own reverie that she didn't even notice the approach of another figure until it spoke to her.
'There you are, Twilight.'
The purple mare looked up into a familiar face of ethereal beauty. 'Princess Celestia...yes, I...I just wanted to...come back home...'
Celestia sat down beside her student. 'I understand, Twilight. Closure is important, whenever you can find it. It can be hard to process what has truly happened without it. I know you lost many of your friends here. I wish there was more we could have done to help, but everything was so very confused when the attacks first began. We committed what we could to the fight, but...'
'I know, Princess.' Twilight nodded. 'I don't blame anypony for what happened, no plan could have accounted for alien invasion. I just feel that I owe it to them all. To every one of them. I started writing their names down...' She floated the scroll over to Celestia with her magic. 'You know, in case nobody else did. In case the census records in Canterlot were damaged, or just...just in case ponies forgot...'
'A most noble initiative, Twilight,' Celestia smiled. 'But the palace archives survived mostly intact. It seems the Chaos invaders were not particularly interested in dusty old books, but rather with the shiny, the expensive...and the breakable. I believe the population records are still intact. Certainly most of them are, we have been using them to account for casualties in Canterlot and elsewhere. I'm sure we will get Ponyville's statistics covered shortly. But you should continue with your writing, Twilight. It is a beautiful thing to do, and I think it will help you achieve some of the peace you seek.'
Twilight nodded, looking up at the sky above, Celestia's sun in the corner of her vision, the clouds pushed by high-altitude winds. It was the wind which had enabled the ruse to take place as it had. Equestria lived yet, and would hopefully live in peace, because of them.
The Indefatigable, as it was preparing to leave orbit, had indeed fired half a dozen virus bombs at the planet's surface, at the orders of Lord-Admiral Marcos. The ship's tactical records would show that, and the physical evidence was there, too, in the form of a depleted rack of the civilization-ending ordnance. They had been fired, and they had entered the atmosphere of the planet, as they were designed to do. They detonated, as they were designed to do. And they were ignited by a shot from one of the Indefatigable's lances, as they were designed to be. Everything had worked exactly as it was meant to, and yet Equestria, the ponies, and all the life on the surface, still remained. The planet had not been burned clean, purged of everything living. There had been no holocaust, no firestorm sweeping the surface, for the simple reason that the virus bombs had not turned all organic matter into sludge the way they were supposed to.
That was down to the winds, and to the scheme cooked up by Lord-Admiral Marcos and Princess Celestia. It was the closest that Marcos could come to a guarantee that the planet would never be affected by the Imperium again, the promise he had made to the Princess. With messages already sent to Hydraphur from the fleet and the Ferrus Terra confirming the existence of life on the planet, Marcos reasoned the only way to get as close to a guarantee as he could that Imperial interest in the planet would end was to make the Imperium believe that the planet had been destroyed, that all life had been wiped out, and thus that there was no reason to visit the planet any longer. Anything of use of value, the Imperium had to believe, had been turned to ash. Otherwise a curious Inquisitor coming across the report by chance might decide to send another expedition. The Adeptus Mechanicus might take it upon themselves to send an Explorator Fleet, whether or not Segmentum Command were even consulted about it, to try and recover a source of Alicorn magic for their own ends. As long as it was believed that the pony race was still extant, the risk remained.
The only way to make the Imperium believe the ponies were gone was to seem to enact the final rite of Exterminatus. There was plenty of justification for the act, given that the planet could have been claimed to be still contaminated by Chaos, infested with surviving Changeling splinter groups, and home to the Princess and her unique and concerning power, control over the sun, which would risk any future Imperial approach to the planet being met with deadly force, given Celestia's desire for her race to be left in peace. Marcos had entered his reasoning into his report, ending with the fact that he had made his decision to destroy the planet to deny Alicorn magic to Chaos, who could reasonably return, potentially, at any time to try and claim their prize, despite the bloody nose they had suffered in their previous attempt.
Together with the Princess, Marcos and General Jahn had hashed out a plan. Celestia's control of the sun and its energy output meant that she could carefully manipulate the weather patterns of the planet. Marcos had learned that to be truth rather than mere speculation at the funeral of Princess Luna, when he had commented to her about the cloudless skies that accompanied the ceremony. The great climatic cells that drove the planet's weather could be affected by changing the amount of solar energy directed at any given point on the planet's surface, something which the Princess could perform with ease by manipulating the output of the giant body of superheated gas over which she had ultimate power.
By adjusting the climate temporarily in such a fashion, Celestia was able to steer the high-altitude winds, jet streams, trade winds and other large-scale aeolian features of the planet in a particular direction; though the effect was not sustainable without causing severe disruption to the planet's established climate, it could certainly have a successful short-term effect, which was used to carry the pathogen from the virus bombs in a certain direction. Marcos had deliberately targeted an offshore location, some three hundred and fifty miles due east of Manehattan. It was a deep part of the ocean with no islands and no organic matter above the surface for hours of sea travel in any direction, the perfect spot to detonate the bombs. There was nothing beneath them for the virulent pathogen to turn to sludge.
To prevent the dispersal of the aerosol across the rest of the planet, as per the designed intention of the virus bombs, Celestia's magic manipulated the climate sufficiently to create a fast-flowing, circular cell of wind, not quite a hurricane but just a swirling vortex that kept the virus hemmed in to a small area above the ocean's surface. if it couldn't reach organic life, it couldn't enact its deadly effect, and the lance blast would not spread flame across the whole planet. That, however, opened up another issue- the sensor logs and Auspex recordings of the Indefatigable would show that. The investigators would learn quickly enough that the Exterminatus order, for whatever reason, had been unsuccessful, that there had been no ignition, no firestorm. That was where the second stage of the deception came in.
Several Royal Equestrian Navy ships held position some miles from the aerial maelstrom of swirling wind to provide ground-based monitoring of the deception. At the centre of the vortex, Princess Celestia herself floated, protected by her shield from the virus and from the lance beam which struck down from the heavens, igniting the gas cloud around her, a great fireball, sized to rival that of the atomic weapon which had obliterated Baltimare, though with vastly less explosive force and more pyrotechnics. Celestia's horn had glowed as she had sent out a vast, coruscating golden-yellow wave of magic, like a rapidly expanding halo that raced across the sky, picked up by the sensors aboard the Indefatigable. With the Ferrus Terra and its more sensitive instruments already having gone to warp, and the Indefatigable being the only ship still in orbit, it was a small matter to suitably tamper with the Auspex readings to record the energy wave as being the result of the successful detonation of the virus bombs and the propagation of their deadly effect, rolling across the planet, scorching the atmosphere as all formerly living matter ignited in a global holocaust.
That subtle editing of the facts was why Marcos had had his own bridge crew, from the Emperor's Judgement, on deck for the final act in the saga of Kuda Prime. He both trusted them to keep silent about the deception and to have the technical prowess to carry it out without leaving any telltale digital fingerprints, obvious signs of tampering that would have the inevitable Inquisitorial investigators frothing at the mouth as evidence of a potential coverup. Any artifacts or discrepancies in the data logs would raise eyebrows with an experienced technician or a Mechanicus augur-scribe, and would raise the spectre of a summary execution for all involved should the Inquisition catch wind of it. But the data-scrub had worked.
The Exterminatus, so far as the Imperium was concerned, had been a success, thanks to the continued close co-operation between Celestia and the Lord-Admiral. Marcos had felt an obligation to honour his words, because of the same feeling that had induced many of his men to remain behind on the planet. He felt the pureness in the Princess, and the pureness of the land over which she ruled. Yes, there was violence, there was danger. There had been wars, against the Griffons, the Changelings, Discord. One commonality between all species, it seemed, was violence, no matter how peaceful their intentions. But overall, the land had been at peace before the humans came. There was none of the caste violence and gang warfare that plagued Imperial hive worlds, nor any Ork or Tyranid infestation, although the Changelings filled their own niche there. There was no political infighting over who was in charge, as there was on countless Imperial worlds with weak or malleable governors. There was a single leader, above all, held in revered majesty, atop a golden throne, with prayers spoken to them every night and every day. The planet reminded many people of home, and the Princess reminded many of them of their Emperor.
Some would deem that thought alone to be heresy, for any direct comparison of any man to the Emperor in any meaningful way would be blasphemous. To compare a Xenos to him, however broadly, would be worthy of immediate, summary execution in the eyes of the Ecclesiarchy. Yet the Princess had exerted a magnetic pull on the psyches of many, including, Marcos had to admit, to himself. It was easy for him to see why so many had chosen to stay, given the state of Imperial life they would have to return to otherwise. Their existence was cheap, cheaper even than their equipment and weapon in the eyes of the Administratum. Human life was not something to be cherished by their leaders, but something to be expended, like ammunition. That attitude was a direct opposite to that expressed by the Princess and espoused by every aspect of pony society.
Their history had its share of tribal violence between the different classes of pony, but they had been unified and given purpose, and harmony had prevailed within their community for a long time, even as they fought off external threats from other races. They focused on improving the lives of their citizens and not just survival, a luxury that, admittedly, was not really afforded to the Imperium. But where the Emperor, in all of his might and divinity, had united humanity against the threat of destruction, that unity had proven to be temporary. There was tribalism today, though only rarely outright bloodshed; between the Navy and the Guard, the forces of Terra and the forces of Mars, between the superhuman Astartes and those who represented the purity and origin of man, between the religious zealots and the realists, between sub-factions of the Inquisition, and countless other divisions.
Equestria, however, had not yet succumbed to such base instincts, other than a smattering of republican rebel groups that were few in number and even weaker in true power. The distinctions were clear to see, and many of those who had remained behind had seen the chance to lift themselves from the endless mire of life on a hive world or inhospitable planet if they returned home and lived through the rest of their military service. Their disappearance was easy enough to smooth over in Imperial records, for their names were simply appended with the catchall and technically true term of MIA- missing in action. Nobody ever probed such things deeply, for in the sheer scale of modern warfare, entire regiments could simply disappear without trace for any number of potential reasons. Nobody would notice, and nobody would care. Such was the fate of thousands in a galaxy of uncountable trillions.
Canterlot was recovering, very slowly, incrementally, day by day. The human immigrants and the masses of equipment and supplies the fleet had donated were proving most helpful as the city and the rest of Equestria rebuilt the shattered fabric of the national infrastructure. The first priority in the capital was to repair utilities and get them functioning, so as to help avoid the spread of disease and stimulate the recovery of the rest of the city. Water, sewage, gas and electricity lines were worked on around the clock by teams of pony engineers, and large squads of Imperial Guard and crewmen from the fleet with any kind of mechanical or engineering experience. Those basic things, taken for granted for so long by the inhabitants, had been heavily damaged in the war, but were vital for safe habitation of Canterlot, and every other city across the land.
It would be a long time before life returned to normal, but at least the land was at peace once again, and, importantly for the future, the Imperium believed the planet to be a dead world. Also vital for stability as the shattered nations recovered, Queen Chrysalis had been finally defeated. She had been by far the largest planetary-based threat, even without the extra power afforded her by the arrival of so many new sources of love energy, and now that both she and the invaders were gone, there was a real chance for a strong and lasting peace across the whole planet. Such was the hope, at least. The public mood was slowly improving- very slowly, but it was rising, as better contact was established with other cities, and it was learned just how little impact some of them had felt from the war. Vanhoover, Las Pegasus, and several other medium-sized towns had been almost completely spared from harm, either by miracle or design, thanks to the fact that the primary target of the Chaos forces had been Canterlot, for that was where the royals lived. The cities out to the west had escaped relatively unscathed, vigilantly guarded by the Royal Guard and forces from both the Army and the Air Corps against threats from banditry and Changeling attack. The Chaos troops had spent the first days of the war looting and pillaging a swathe of the countryside and the towns and cities surrounding Canterlot, in an effort to pursue the Princesses, but then their wrath had turned to other large cities that were relatively closeby, such as Manehattan and Baltimare. The cities out to the west, lying beyond the deserts and mountains, had not come under their baleful gaze, as the Imperial troops had been able to intervene and prevent any further expansion by the invaders.
Canterlot had not been so lucky, but at least it had been spared the absolute annihilation wrought upon Baltimare. Nopony knew when that city might become livable again, for although the majority of radioactive fallout had been carried away by the winds, enough of the deadly byproduct remained that the very earth itself was contaminated. Princess Celestia had declared Baltimare to be a black zone, a no-go area to all civilians, a designation formerly reserved only for the Everfree Forest. They had a lack of military resources to enforce any kind of actual cordon, but nopony wanted to willingly expose themselves to the invisible danger anyway. Manehattan and Fillydelphia, at least, could be slowly reoccupied by civil engineering teams, supported by human equipment, to perform the same restoration of utilities as was taking place in the capital. It was mundane work, but it was exactly what the teams had been set up to do, and it was vital to give the survivors somewhere safe to live.
And there were survivors- more than had been imagined, but less than had been hoped. As well as those in the undamaged cities and towns of the west, many ponies had taken the same course as those from Canterlot, and fled into the hills, the caves, or the forests of Equestria, living off the land, easy to do as ponies ate grass, plants and fruit as the main constituents of their diets anyway. It had allowed thousands of ponies to survive in the wild, despite the occupation forces conducting searches of some areas surrounding the cities they had captured. They had been discovered and brought back into the fold by military patrols, and by airships broadcasting messages from the Princess over loudspeakers to inform ponies of the hard-fought peace that had been secured at such a great cost. After wandering the wilderness, they would finally be welcomed back into the fold.
As the rest of Equestria struggled back to their hooves, little by little, in Canterlot, ponies were gathering once more, though not for a funeral this time. They were gathering for a most unusual ceremony, one never witnessed in their lifetimes, indeed never before in history. They were gathering to bear witness to an ascension.
Princess Celestia stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard of Canterlot Palace, where she had often given official royal addresses to the citizens of Equestria. A contingent of Royal Guard in full armour flanked the hallway leading out to it, which was where Twilight Sparkle now found herself walking, alone. Her friends were in the crowd below, but they had given her their final, friendly words of encouragement before she embarked upon this solo walk. Celestia was waiting, she knew, with her usual motherly smile and kind face, the face never seen by her enemies, only by her friends and loyal subjects. There would be a crowd, too, of citizens gathered below in the courtyard to witness what was to come.
It was as much a mystery to Twilight as to what was going to happen as it was to the crowd. Celestia had told her it would be a special ceremony, the next step in her evolution from lowly unicorn to star pupil and then to royal protege. But Twilight had nothing to compare that too, nothing she had witnessed herself, or anything in the history books. Maybe it would never happen again, either. Twilight hoped not, for it had only come about because of a particularly momentous and tragic event. She stepped through the doorway and onto the balcony.
Bright sunlight hit her eyes for a moment, before she was suddenly in shade. Princess Celestia's outstretched wings were blocking the rays as she stood before Twilight, a warm and compassionate smile on her face. Here, to Twilight, she looked not like her national leader, but her teacher, her inspiration, the reason she was who she was today, and the reason she had been in any kind of position to wield her Element and lead the others into battle. Twilight stepped forward to take her rightful place at Celestia's side, bringing on a cheer of appreciation and the clopping of hooves from the courtyard below.
'My loyal citizens!' Celestia addressed the crowd in her Royal Canterlot Voice, drawing everyone to a hushed, respectful silence to hear their leaderspeak. 'We gather here today for a special and solemn purpose. It is not often that such an event can or must be performed. Alas, circumstances have decreed that, as you all know, my sister is not with us today.' There were sobs and anguished cries from below as they were reminded of the absence of the Night Princess. 'Her sacrifice will never be forgotten and will linger in our collective memory for the rest of time. We will never let her name fade from history.'
There was more applause from the courtyard, ponies deeply respectful of the loss the Princess had suffered, and of the bravery and goodness shown by her sister, putting to rest once and for all the doubts which had still swirled in some ponies' minds over her past as Nightmare Moon. There was nothing but light in the true Luna's heart. She had demonstrated that beyond any doubt in her final act of courage. Celestia continued on with her speech.
'Her loss leaves not just a hole in my heart, but a hole in Equestrian society. It can never truly be filled, but we need to move forward. We need to advance into the future, even as we mourn that which we have lost from the past. That is why we are here today.' Celestia turned to Twilight. 'My most loyal and faithful student, Twilight Sparkle. Your progress has been nothing short of remarkable, especially since you moved to Ponyville and made so many wonderful friends. I mourn with you for those who are no longer here, but I also celebrate the success of the Elements of Harmony.' She glanced down at Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy, who watched on from the courtyard with Shining Armour and Princess Cadence.
'Without all of them, again, we would not be here today,' Celestia continued. 'Without you, Twilight, we would not be here today. It is earlier than I had planned, but I believe you are truly ready for the next step in your own story.' Celestia's horn glowed, the spark needed to ignite the flames of evolution. White light surrounded Twilight, slowly lifting her into the air as the onlookers gasped. A swirling mass of magic engulfed her, a mixture of Celestia's with her own innate power, combining to drive the development which would completely baffle Imperial scientists and Mechanicus Magi should they have witnessed it. The light began to recede, and Twilight began to descend until she was back on the balcony. As the light faded away and she became visible again, Celestia bowed her head. 'Fillies and gentlecolts, behold your newest Princess!'
A murmur ran through the crowd, a mixture of shock and excitement. Twilight stretched out her new wings, broad and strong, and there was a cheer, led initially by her friends, the Elements and Spike, before Cadence and her family joined in. It rapidly spread across the crowd. 'Bow to the Princess of Friendship!' Celestia commanded, and ponies lowered their heads out of respect. Twilight turned to her mentor, who had a broad and happy smile. 'Congratulations, Twilight. you have proven time and again that my faith in you was completely justified. I always knew you would become a new Princess. I just did not imagine it would be quite so soon. But this is the right time. Equestria needs a new symbol of hope. They need a new Princess to replace my sister. Equestria needs you, Twilight. I need you. Will you rise to the challenge?'
Twilight hesitated for a moment. She looked at her mother and father, she looked at her brother. She looked at Spike, and at her fellow Elements, all smiling up supportively. She looked back at her Princess- her fellow Princess.
'Yes, Your Highness. I will...'
The land was strange, soft, rolling, like a blanket. There was darkness above, but a glow permeated the very essence of reality. It was a pale glow, pleasant, like a clear night reflecting from a field of snow. Yet there was nothing around. Everything was empty; no hills, no trees, no buildings, no life.
This was where Princess Celestia had spent every night since the end of the war, a solitary, lonely place, deep inside her mind, a dreamscape that only she could visit and that only she could see. Although, that was not strictly true.
'Greetings...'
Celestia looked around. There it was again, the floating, swirling dark cloud, so strange at first but so familiar now.
'There you are...' She smiled softly, taking a step closer- not entirely accurate, more like simply floating, though without using either her wings or her magic. She had no need, not in this place. The power of her mind was enough; it didn't need to be projected through her horn when the whole thing was inside her own head.
'Today was the day, then?' the anomaly asked, and Celestia nodded.
'Yes...'
'How did it go? I imagine Twilight was her typical self?'
'Very much so,' Celestia chuckled. 'She was as nervous as anything, of course, but she quickly calmed herself, as she always does. She did exactly what was expected of her, and I'd expect nothing less.'
'So now she is a Princess...how far she has come, all under your guidance.'
'Yes, she is.' Celestia nodded. 'But I did not create her. I merely showed her the way forward. She trod her own path to get where she is today. Every obstacle that was presented to her, either by myself or by others...she overcame them all, together with her friends, taking advice where it was needed and showing leadership where it was required. She learned to embody all the qualities that a Princess should have.'
'She will make a fine addition to the royal family. I know she will, because you have taught her so much. Just as you taught me so much.'
'I think you'll find she was far more receptive to most of my words than you,' Celestia chuckled, as the undulating emptiness around her shifted, morphing formlessly into some other vision of nothing, but with the sky slowly lightening. 'She gained much from you as well, you know. Twilight is most perceptive. She knows to obtain knowledge and information from whatever source she can, to interrogate, to question, to think, to learn.'
'Indeed...you certainly have an eye for the right mare at the right time. I'm not sure any other pony could have achieved everything Twilight has.'
'Neither am I,' Celestia agreed, as the landscape shifted again, steadily filling in, both with colour and detail. No longer was it an empty, blank canvas, but it was beginning to resemble the realm she ruled over, with grass, rivers, towns, rolling countryside with the golden light of the sun blazing down from above. 'I knew she was special right from the first time I met her. That was plain to see. It has been a harsh learning curve for her, especially these past few months, but she took everything that was thrown at her and kept going. She has shown true strength of both body and mind, especially to overcome the insidious words of the Daemon.'
'Yes, especially that. I have seen the realm they dwell in, those most foul of creatures. Only briefly, but I pray that no pony should ever witness such a sight. To have prevented such horror being unleashed upon Equestria is the single greatest feat ponykind has achieved, and the most necessary. Merely to learn that there is another plane of existence, even beyond those that we know about, is...most disconcerting. To see what that plane is truly like is terrifying. Would you do what was necessary to prevent ponies falling into such a place? If you had to, would you do what was necessary to stop such foul, soulless beings from enslaving and twisting your subjects into simulacra of their former selves, driven out of their minds with fear and confusion, forced to serve dark intellects even greater than yours for all eternity?'
'Yes.' Celestia nodded. 'Whatever it takes.'
'Whatever it takes?'
'Whatever it takes,' the Sun Princess nodded. The landscape around her was almost complete filled in now, like a live three-dimensional map of Equestria. 'No price is too high to prevent a fate like that.' Without warning, everything around her was bathed in a golden-yellow glow, and all turned to fire, the light impossibly bright from the heavens, igniting grass, trees, wood, buildings, everything, blasting the entire dreamscape into a barren, charred, airless wasteland. 'No price too high...'
'And what of the Imperium?'
'They won't be returning,' Celestia spoke confidently.
'You trust the Admiral and his plan?'
'I do.' Celestia nodded. 'I do...it is his superiors I do not trust, and truth be told, neither does he. Nothing is guaranteed, of course, but I am confident he will uphold his end of the bargain.'
'I know I ask you that every night.'
'You do,' Celestia chuckled. 'But I do not mind. It is nice just to speak with you.'
'I should let you rest.'
'I am resting.' The land around her was once more fully coloured, fully detailed, a far cry from the empty space, the blank template it had been before, or the sun-scorched, radiation-bathed hellscape it had become in her momentary diversion. 'But I know what you mean.'
'Then I shall leave you now. I have other ponies still to attend to...'
'I will speak with you again tomorrow night,' Celestia smiled. Overhead, the moon and the sun, both rising in the now-bright sky, came together, slowly merging, coagulating into one great glowing orb.
'Of course you will. Goodnight, until tomorrow, and until you come to join me here.'
Celestia closed her eyes, and then opened them. She was no longer in the dreamscape, neither the empty void that filled her heart, nor the temporarily restored scenery that gradually filled that void, at least for a brief period, each night. Instead, she was in her bedchamber, within the palace. It was dark; or rather, it was dark in her room, but light was shining through the crack in the curtains. Celestia rose, casting aside the bedsheets. She walked over to the curtains, pulling them open with her magic and stepping out onto her balcony.
Night over Canterlot was as silent as the grave. Everypony got what rest they could. No construction work went on after dark. There were no ponies in the streets, for there was nowhere to go. There were no revelers stumbling home and drunkenly singing after visiting a tavern or a brothel or a nightclub. There were no early-morning deliveries of milk or newspapers. Just the silence of a city which had come close to death but had barely clung to life. Evidence of that was everywhere; the stark, spindly beams of shattered rooftops, streelights and signs bent and twisted like an ancient pony riddled with arthritis. Several airships hung motionless and quiet over the city, keeping watch and acting as reassurance to the population. They were safe, but Celestia wanted them to feel safe, too.
The city was quiet now, but furious rebuilding efforts were underway during daylight. There may have been no nocturnal activities to speak of, no nightlife, no business, no economy. But there would be. One day, everything would be back to normal. It would take time and effort and sacrifice, but things would go back to how they once were.
Sacrifice.
It was a full moon; that was why she had awoken. Her body knew to make sure. It had been one lunar month since the funeral. Since the last full moon. Since the moon was laid to rest. She gazed out across the rooftops, breathing in the silence, the stillness. Celestia turned her face skyward. The moon seemed farther away than ever before, yet she knew it was close. The city was still, but she was not alone. She would never be alone, not from this moment until the day she died, be that a in week, a century, or aeons from now. Then, whenever that should happen, they could finally be reunited.
'Goodnight, sister,' she spoke softly, before turning slowly to return to her chamber. 'Until tomorrow night...and until we meet again.'