//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: Accounts of the Dark Cosmic War // by Pony Professor //------------------------------// I was born one generation after the war. It’s the generation where a country afflicted by an all-encompassing conflict that affects everyone has few large and obvious scars left to show but is fresh enough that not much time has passed for many to call it anything other than “the war.” At twenty-four years old, I have never so much as held a weapon, be it melee or firearm. For others in my age group and I, though, a parent or relative, a family friend, or perhaps an older sibling knows the heft of a sword as it cuts through the air, or the kick that a magic rifle puts against your shoulder. They know that feeling and all the baggage that comes with it. Fifteen percent of Equestrians today are veterans. That figure is only among the Equestrians who are or were officially part of the armed forces during the war. If I was to include those who died and all the civilians who took up arms to protect their princessdom, that percentage would be closer to thirty-nine. There are few above a certain age who do not have at least one combat story to tell—either their own, one they heard, or one from someone who is no longer here to share it. While these stories are passed through and along in bars, classrooms, and living rooms, the time has come to rein in these tales before they are lost, or worse, live on in twists and additions and embellishments that ruin the grandeur of the time Equestria fought the cosmos and won. My name is Storied Halls, which I tell you now because you will not be hearing my name all that much as you follow me while I gather accounts from many different perspectives throughout the war, from before it began up through the aftermath, which, I guess includes today. CANTERLOT The Lunar Cathedral is built into the face of Canterlot Mountain. Its main worship chamber has the cavern’s only window: a stained-glass piece many stories high depicting Princess Luna with her wings splendidly splayed, acting as a cradle for the clear, round piece that allows the moon to shine through perfectly on many nights. This is one of those nights, and the priestess prays in whispers bathed in a bright moonbeam. The light makes her alabaster coat seem to glow even beneath her gossamer veil that flows down her back with her wings spread, much like the visage above her. I only hear the words she offers to the Princess because we are the only occupants of the chamber. The quiescence is such that a feather falling could disturb the peace. A slight flick of one ear tells me that she hears me approaching, yet her reverence does not stop. It is a sign that I should stay my introductions for after her praise is finished. “She blesses us this night,” the priestess says. “And every night,” I respond in kind. She seems bemused that I know the traditional greetings Luna’s worshippers use to recognize each other. Interestingly, traditional Princess worship has increased after the war, but you can tell the difference between a newly devout adherent and one who grew up in the faith. The priestess here is certainly old hat. Apparently, her prayer spot is as good a place as any to begin the interview, as she only turns to me and sits in a more relaxed pose rather than taking the both of us to another hall, room, or sanctum. She blinks her big, silver eyes, waiting for me to begin. I admit, I’m a bit captivated by the entire scene, and were I a praying pony myself I’d ask Luna to forgive my wandering thoughts. “Priestess Argenta Star. Former Captain of Luna’s Shadows. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She nods, “Likewise. Though I still am the Captain, should the need arise again.” “The last time the need arose was the first time the Shadows acted in a millennium. You didn’t even show up when Nightmare Moon returned. Uh, the first time, before Princess Twilight Sparkle’s ascension.” “I’m aware of the history,” Argenta blinks again, slowly, “We were disorganized then. No direction for a thousand years will do that to any covert unit. Before Twilight, when Nightmare Moon took Luna from us the first time, many of us fell to the True Darkness that evil being brought. Those ponies were lost along with her when Celestia banished her to the moon. After their loss, the ancestors that remained vowed that should we ever get the chance to serve Luna again, we would serve the Luna we know, not anything she becomes. This is why we did not raise a hoof when Nightmare Moon returned. Fighting would either betray Luna once again if we sided with her darker self, or would lead us to possibly harming Our Lady that we knew resided within Nightmare Moon.” “But you fought against Luna in the war, did you not?” Argenta shakes her head, a tinge of anger in her brow, “No, we fought Nightmare Moon, just as the Berserkers fought Daybreaker, not Celestia. The threat was different. The hold the True Darkness had on Luna was much stronger. The singing of our weapons was the only way our cries, our faith, would reach Luna’s ears. Cutting through Nightmare’s armies, getting ever closer to Canterlot Mountain… It was the ultimate test of our devotion—one I pray nopony ever has to go through again.” “Take me back to the beginning. Back before the war. There are rumors that deep elements of Luna’s guard knew the Nightmare Force was still around.” “The fools who perpetuate that myth think Luna knew it was hidden and intentionally kept it near so that she may one day attempt to take Equestria for herself again. This couldn’t be further from the truth. We, who are in the shadow of Her wings know better than anyone how great Luna’s fear was of turning into Nightmare Moon again. She kept eyes and ears everywhere to report to her if even a foal’s schoolyard story of seeing a blob that looked like her held credence.” “Yet no creature saw it coming when it actually did,” I say. “Not even Our Lady Herself. Last time it crept quietly. It was subtle, taking over her mind bit by bit and changing her demeanor slowly until she was totally consumed. We all thought it would be the same if it ever appeared again. We always looked for subtle changes; we tested her temperament from time to time and ran all manner of magical tests to see any sign of something evil at work. But it was swift, sudden, and far too powerful for even Luna to fend off. It struck her like a viper and by the time I arrived at her chamber that morning, she was gone.” My surprise is apparent. “You saw her?” Argenta nods, “Just in time to see the glimmer of Our Lady’s eyes be replaced by the gleam of the Nightmare’s. Nightmare Moon was back.” “What did you do?” “I flew at her, as if I was trying to chase Princess Luna into the depths of her own soul. I unsheathed my nightclaws and struck as hard as I could, but there was already a magic veil around her too strong for even the toughest blast to break through. I bounced off and landed on my back. I thought Nightmare Moon was going to counter, so I reflexively braced to defend, fully expecting the power of an alicorn to crush any paltry blocking my armor had, but that blow—and my death, never came. She laughed that awful, echoing laugh we all know too well, and disappeared.” Argenta takes a deep breath. “I knew I had to tell Celestia what had just transpired, that she, too, must brace for an attack, but a Berserker running by pulled me to my hooves and told me everything I needed to know with a question: ‘It got Luna, too?’”