//------------------------------//
// Desoulhate 
// Story: Book 1 - The Behemoth came to Canterlot 
// by Equimorto 
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The ceiling creaked. Not the way wood was supposed to creak, though even that would have been unsettling as it wasn't made out of wood. It creaked the way bones did when bent too far, when just about to break. There was too much weight pushing down on it. Too much blood, some of it leaking through and dripping to the floor.
Celestia sat on the floor, back hunched over, mouth half open. Her teeth had grown to fangs, and their tips were tinged dark red. Light came in from the window in front of her, muted and deep orange, sundown approaching. Her silhouette stood stark against it. She held one of her hooves over the body lying in front of her, and breathed heavily as she stared at it.
The body looked back at her, its single visible eye on what was left of its head focused solely on Celestia's face. Unblinking, unmoving, it seemed to be judging her. It was still filled with life, for the time being, as if completely unbothered and untouched by everything that had happened to the body it was attached to. Most of all it seemed to be filled with hatred, at moments, but it was hard to quite grasp. It never changed, yet one could never get a proper look at it, a proper read on it.
"You were right," Celestia said, unsure if the thing could even hear her after everything she'd done to it. "You were right about everything." Her heavy, rough breathing coloured her voice, and her sharp teeth occasionally clicked against each other as she spoke, not used to being as long as they were then. "I did it. All of that. Everything you said."
She leaned down, pressing harder into her hoof, her fangs almost scraping the bloodstained coat of her victim. "And you know what? I'd do it again. I'd do it all over again, every moment, everything." She smiled at the other, though with the way her mouth had grown warped her expression looked simply wrong. "Look at where it's brought us, and tell me it wasn't worth it in the end. Tell me you'd do things differently. I wouldn't."
The lone pink eye kept staring at her. The body said nothing, certainly because it couldn't speak anymore without a mouth or a throat, but likely because it did not wish to speak either. It was unclear whether it could breathe or not, whether it was breathing or not, whether it even needed to breathe. Celestia weighing down on it certainly did not make that easier to discern.
Celestia kept looking at it a bit longer, close to it enough to move its hairs aside with her breathing. Eventually she clicked her tongue, disappointment on her face at the lack of any meaningful reaction. She opened her mouth, and quietly dug her fangs into the body's flesh, beginning to chew and eat what was still there of it as outside the Sun slowly went down.