Equestria's End

by Aquillo

In Media Res

Once upon a time, there was a little pony who didn’t want to feel quite so lonely any more.

But, of course, there’s more to the tale. You see, he didn’t want the company of others. That wasn't his interest. No, what he wanted wasn't entirely not to feel lonely. What he truly wanted was to get rid of loneliness itself.

Now there are some creatures who can live without others just fine. There’re creatures in this world who are happy that the only face they see each day is their own reflected in a mirror. But ponies aren’t like that. Not one bit.

A pony needs the company of others like a sound needs the air, like the day needs the sun. Like a changeling needs love or a windigo needs hate. And so this little pony’d look out at the laughing groups, and feel jealous. He’d find his mind straying at idle hours towards the idea of being like them, happy amongst the company of others. He’d find himself lying awake at night with the caustic ache of knowing your future perfectly clawing at his chest.

And he hated it. He hated every bitter, soul-tearing moment of it. He hated that he was being forced to feel this way without any choice of his own, that he was being made to feel what he knew he had never wanted. And in the twisted holds of his heart, he hated the very drive that made him feel lonely; more so, in fact, than he hated being lonely itself.

He hated it enough that he’d do anything to get rid of it.

And so he made a plan.

Rarity huffed out once, her breath fogging up the window's glass. She tugged the curtains closed before turning round and returning to her previous distraction of pacing about the cafe’s shadowy innards. It had been night outside, a bright, unnaturally red night that was filled to the brim with ponies: some laughing manically, some sobbing openly; a few carrying wagons piled high with a mismatch of items large and small, but most of them carrying nothing whatsoever.

All of them were running.

Rarity reached the end of one circuit and turned around, her back now pointing towards the door leading outside and her eyes staring into the cafe’s darkness. She’d stacked all of the chairs and tables away earlier, giving her a completely clear space to pace about on. Their shapes jumped out at her as she passed, murky and half-formed inside the darkness. A sudden patch of cold caused her to shudder as she walked through it. She’d been here before.

A few seconds later, and Rarity had reached the apex of yet another circuit round the cafe. She stopped, standing quietly in place. The tip of her hoof started tapping impatiently as she frowned, eyes darting blindly about the darkness. She reached out to take the letter from a saddlebag that simply wasn't there.

There was a light tinkle as somepony opened the door behind her. Rarity stopped what she was doing and turned, pupils widening as they adapted to the outside's glow. There was a unicorn in the doorway; she could tell by the figure’s horn. A tumultuous sound poured in through the open door: the thunderous pounding of hoof against cobblestone and pleading cries for help. A few familiar names were shouted out too, the voices calling them triggering a mild surge of recognition within her. Rarity smothered the emotions before they could spread.

“Twilight?”

“Where are the others?” the unicorn asked, still hanging around the open door uncertainly, head turning this way and that as she looked about the room. "Didn't they get any of the letters I sent them?" Rarity relaxed. That was Twilight; that was her voice.

“I’m afraid that you’ll be getting only little old me, Twilight. Rainbow Dash said she needs at least three more cycles with the zebra, and Applejack’s still chasing after Fluttershy. Goodness knows where the two of them will have gotten to. And Pinkie’s—”

“Still probably off being Pinkie Pie somewhere,” Twilight finished, stepping fully into the room. The door swung slowly shut behind her. Too slowly, unnaturally slowly: as if something was holding it in place and controlling its motion. And yet Twilight's horn was dark.

“Twilight?” Rarity took a step forwards, and Twilight’s features became a little clearer against the gloom. She was wearing some sort of full-body costume, but that hardly mattered to Rarity right now. “Twilight, are you...” She reached up and softly tapped her friend’s horn. “Are you using magic?” Her target snorted.

“It’s good to see you too, Rarity.”

With a faint smile of amusement on her face—or at least, Rarity supposed it was; the darkness made it hard to tell—Twilight brushed Rarity’s foreleg out of her way as her own hooked up and pulled the two of them firmly together. Rarity stiffened at first, but then relaxed into it after a heartbeat’s pause, her leftmost leg mimicking Twilight’s in sliding over her friend's shoulder. The screams of the ponies in the background grew louder as some creature from the Everfree’s depths roared out. If the two of them heard any of it, they gave no sign.

Twilight's breath felt hot on Rarity's neck, and it brushed against her mane and coat uncomfortably. And yet Rarity relished in the feeling; it had been several weeks since she'd last seen or heard from any of her friends, and cycles upon cycles since they'd last been together, all of them as one. Twilight's letter had been both a surreal and happy thing, like the ending of a penal sentence inside a wide-open gaol. Rarity hadn't been used to being the stranger in the crowd, to having to keep away from social contact. She still wasn't, truth be told.

She wanted to say 'I've missed you', but the words caught in her throat.

Twilight broke the hug first. Halfway out of it, Rarity stopped her, her hooves clasped tightly onto Twilight’s head. She leaned in, frowning, then jerked back with a gasp.

“In Celestia’s name, Twilight! What in Equestria's happened to your eye?”

Twilight tugged herself back and out of Rarity’s grasp, hoof already up and pulling the eyepatch around her left eye back into place. Her hair fell forwards, covering her face from view as she moved. Rarity realised where she’d seen the clothing before, now: Twilight was aping her future self to a point far beyond what was either literal or acceptable. A small, nagging part of Rarity that she loathed having slyly pointed out that at least her friend had had enough good sense to stay far away from that mane cut.

Eyepatch back in place, Twilight stood up a little straighter. The red light of the outside glimmered off of her rightmost eye; Rarity wondered how'd she managed to miss that before, how she hadn't noticed that only one of Twilight's eyes was shining.

“I traded it,” Twilight said, her voice hard and firm. “It was a good trade. I’ve finally got an idea of what to do next, Rarity. Of where to go next. We've finally got a chance."

“But your eye, Twilight. It was your eye! And... And who? What sort of pony would trade you an eye for... for...” Rarity gasped again, stumbling backwards. She threw Twilight a look containing equal amounts of reproach and horror. “You didn’t... You didn't do this for your magic, did you Twilight?” She shuddered. “Please, please tell me you didn’t—”

“Of course not. Would you relax?” Twilight walked forwards; the light from outside was stronger now, bathing the room in a thick, red glow. Cutlery stacked along a table top underneath the curtained window shone and gleamed as the light danced off them. Twilight turned towards it, her head angling to one side as she appeared to consider the curtains. “How much longer do we have?”

“Half a minute. Maybe more. I... I don’t usually like to watch it to the end.” Rarity smiled, and it was a sad, strange sort of smile, as if the meaning of it had been intentionally lost somewhere between sadness and joy. “I prefer to wake up at the start. Even if it is always a dreary Monday morning, and oh, even if it is always raining. It’s just...” She snorted, softly, the smile still on her face. "Beautiful."

“Erm... Rarity, do you mind if I...” Twilight gestured towards the curtains.

“Oh! No, no, go right ahead. Don’t mind me at all, Twilight; I shall simply turn my back.” Rarity did so. There was the thump of fabric hitting the walls as Twilight tugged the curtains open, and more red light washed into the room.

Rarity held her breath as Twilight prowled about, her hooves knocking into things and disturbing them into a clamorous rattle. There was a clatter worthy of an orchestra as Twilight's clumsiness offended the spoons. Rarity's hoof flew up to her face as she tried to suppress a giggle. She shouldn't be laughing; not now, of all times. This should've been a sombre, quiet time.

And perhaps it would've been, twenty cycles ago.

“Four minutes and a half left, give or take around fifteen seconds. We'll leave when this cycle's ended. It's just too risky to be moving around outside right now.” There was the banging of hooves against the cafe's floor as Twilight walked towards Rarity. The sound stopped suddenly, before starting up a few seconds later with two constant, grinding sounds accompanying it.

Rarity cocked her head to one side, just in time to see a chair sliding its way across the floor all by itself, without the expected glow of unicorn magic.

“You know, you never did get around to telling me quite how you’re managing to do that,” Rarity said, sitting down carefully on the chair Twilight had slid up behind her. She glanced to her side; Twilight was sitting next to her, turned towards the window. The whole of her front was bathed in red. “Care to spill the beans?”

Twilight smirked, her one eye swivelling round to wink at Rarity. “There’s no light around my horn, either. I don’t think my problems with magic are going to be too much of an actual problem until I've been through a few more cycles. I estimate I’ve got around fifty left before I’m out.”

Rarity frowned back at her, though there was a smile dancing round her lips. “Ah ah ah. You've got to actually tell me, Twilight.” She shuffled back into her chair, bones cracking as she stretched out her stiff lower legs. “No wriggling out of this one with talk about what it is rather than how you actually do it. I want to know how.”

Twilight rolled her eye. “Fine. I'll tell you. Control.”

“Control?”

“Control. You see, Rarity, most of the techniques we use to cast magic are... sloppy. The basic method of spellcasting is woefully inefficient, to the point that—” Rarity raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing. I just never thought I’d see the day when you, of all ponies, would be disagreeing with the established order on how to cast magic.” Twilight sat up a little straighter, her body twisting more towards Rarity’s.

“Hey, I’m the mare who wouldn’t keep quiet about Nightmare Moon, remember? I’ve... questioned the established order before.” Rarity’s eyebrow refused to go down. “And there was that other time with Princess Cadance; I wouldn’t keep quiet about that! And I’ve... um...”

“Proposed a few radical changes to Canterlot’s filling system?”

Twilight fumed, but she did so silently. In fact, that was what most of the world was now: Silent. Most of the outside's screaming and cries for help had stopped. They always did around this time.

It's funny how, near the end of something precious, the seconds seem to last for hours.

“I ran across Sweetie Belle this cycle.” Rarity’s voice was quiet, small. All of the earlier mirth that had animated it had vanished. Twilight unfolded her forelegs.

“Oh, Rarity. You didn’t...”

“I did.” Rarity smiled again, her eyes focusing on nothing in particular. “Though I'll confess I didn’t quite mean to. I was just making my way through Ponyville when I bumped into her, and she was just so... so angry with me. I've never seen her quite so angry before. S-she wanted to know where I’d been, a-and she just spoke to me like—” Rarity stopped and breathed out fully; when she spoke again, her voice was calm. Controlled. Firmly under hoof. “Oh, Twilight. It will go back to normal, won’t it? If we can stop this, everything will just be... normal again, right? It won’t be, it can’t be—it just can’t be permanent.”

“Everything’ll be just fine, you wait and see.” Twilight’s hoof patted Rarity slowly on the shoulder. Her white hoof reached up and grabbed hold of it tightly. “How... How many times is that now?”

“Seven.” Twilight’s hoof jerked once, but Rarity’s grip held it in place. “Seven times.” Rarity breathed out again in one long, belated breath.

“Any more, and she’ll try to kill you. You know that, right? We get only seven chances to talk to somepony before they...” Twilight’s tongue darted out, wetting her lips. “You can’t see your sister again, Rarity. I won’t... We can’t afford to lose you, got it? We don't know what'll happen if one of us dies...”

“That's the last thing I want, Twilight. I am hardly one to go willingly. I’ll make sure that it never comes to that.” Her grip tightened. “And I’ll make sure it never comes to that.”

The two sat in silence for a few seconds longer, until Twilight broke it by getting up and trotting towards the window. Rarity held her breath for half-a-second more, before turning round to watch her.

The town of Ponyville was burning, flames and sparks pouring like rainwater off of the tiles and rooftops. Town Hall and the buildings around it gleamed a bloody red under the flames' light, parts of them already twisted into black sores of charred and ruined substance. The street was empty now, everypony having long since ran to places Rarity knew all too well. They’d have headed for the hilltops, for Sweet Apple Acres. A few would even be brave enough to try going into the Everfree Forest itself.

None of them would be safe. Just as they hadn’t been safe last cycle, or the cycle before that, or every cycle that had ever been. For the moon was falling, and there was no place you could run.

Of course, it wasn’t just the moon falling that’d cause the end of the world. The sun would also be crashing into the earth half a world away from here. Rarity had never seen it happen herself; she’d never gotten that far away from Canterlot, from the point where the moon finally met the earth. She had never had a good reason to. She’d have to ask Rainbow Dash what it looked like next time they met.

“Rarity?” Twilight said calmly, without turning round, her back still pointing towards Rarity as she stared out into the burning night. “Do you remember what I said earlier? When I said I’ve got an idea of what to do next?”

“Of course I do, dear. You said it only a few minutes ago.”

“Six minutes, to be precise.” Rarity rolled her eyes. Trust Twilight to be Miss Prim and Punctual, end of the world or not. “Anyway, what I'm trying to say is—” She turned round. She was smiling. “What I mean is that this time’ll be different.

“I’ve got a plan, Rarity.” Twilight’s singular eye was filled with some wild kind of hope, enough for Rarity to believe in it too for just a few seconds, even with the burning fragments of the moon falling in flaming shards behind Twilight’s head. “I’ve got a plan.”

There was a fantastic burst of light, as if everything that ever was had shone out for all it was worth just once, releasing every last photon that had ever fallen on its surface out into the world in a single, shining instant.