The Monster in the Twilight
Darkness
“I said open up! I have something to tell you! Just open your blessed door and you can go back to sobbing when we’re done!” snapped Trixie, although she did not stop pounding on the rather thick front door of the Carousel Boutique. She had a schedule to keep, and Trixie had decided to take her apologies in the same order of which the offence had supposedly been committed. Since Rarity seemed offended by the very way Trixie breathed, she was going to be first, like it or not. Well, second. “Tell me again just why I shouldn’t just break open this darned door?”
“It wouldn’t be very nice,” offered Fluttershy quietly.
“I know you’re not very experienced at this,” said Spike with a smirk. “But I’m pretty sure breaking down somepony’s front door is not a good way to start an apology.”
Trixie sighed to keep from snarling. The sobbing and wailing inside what she had mentally marked as the ‘Fortress of Foolish Fashion’ continued unabated, much the same as it had a few hours ago when it started, only more annoying. All Trixie had done was to graciously offer her advice on the decorations for the town hall again, and the mentally-deficient unicorn in charge of the decorations had run off, sobbing something unintelligible. Well, there was more than one way to cut the crusts off a peanut-butter and onion sandwich.
“Why, Rarity,” she called out loudly, so as to be heard over the hysterics. “I had no idea you craved my approval so much. You must consider my taste in fashion to be greater than Fancy Pants, or even Golden Orb.”
“What!” There was a stampede of hooves inside the boutique, moving so rapidly that Trixie stepped back from the door just in case. It was a good thing too, because the door was flung violently open before the unicorn from inside stomped outside, teeth bared and without a single tear on her face.
“How dare you let the name of Golden Orb pass your foul lips. You are a buffoon and a fool, insensitive, totally uncultured, with less fashion in your blood than a baboon! You would not know a fashionable piece of clothing if it hit you in the face!”
Trixie made to respond, only to catch a dress to the face at high speed, wrapped in the unmistakable blue aura of the fashion fanatic.
“Why I could not care less about your stupid opinions on fashion if you were to tie me up with that disgusting rag you have draped across your back! Pardon me, is that glitter on your flank, or did you back into a foal’s school project?”
“It’s natural!” blurted out Trixie, caught by surprise as she fought her way clear of the dress.
“You might want to touch that up a bit dear, your ‘natural’ is running. Where was I?”
“You were talking about Trixie’s cloak,” said Spike with a goofy grin, still looking dazed at Rarity’s sudden appearance.
“Yes, thank you Spike. You’re such a dear. Unlike that boorish twit you have the misfortune to have as an employer. Anyway…” Rarity tossed her head to give her mane a bounce before tearing back into Trixie. “Your cloak is less of a fashion crime than your horrible hat, darling. I don’t know how you even stand to go into public with it, unless—”
“Well, if the Great and Powerful Trixie is such a bad judge of fashion, why did you go running away like a chicken when I criticized your decorations?”
“Well, I…”
“You must consider me to have some fashion sense if you take my criticism so hard.” It was difficult not to smirk, but Trixie managed. More or less.
“But you were so rude! Of course I don’t think you are…” Rarity paused, apparently searching for a noun that would not bite back. The logical trap Trixie had set was fairly simple. If Rarity acknowledged that her previous outburst had been because Trixie had criticized the decorations, that would tacitly imply that the ‘blue clown’ actually had some fashion taste, which simply would not do at all. If not, it would imply that Rarity had been petty and immature, and most probably would spell a death sentence for all of the work she had gotten ever since Princess Celestia had contracts with her for several concealing outfits.
Trixie stepped back into the conversation with a bow and a straight face that was a credit to her many years of acting experience. “I would like to apologize for my words this year. I obviously do not have the same appreciation for beauty as Her Highness’ personal dress designer. Can you forgive me?” The gracious words seemed to slip out almost naturally again, and Trixie started to suspect that sober-up spell had some additional components that needed examination as soon as she had the time.
“And last year,” added Spike.
“Oh, yes. And for my actions the last two years. Although I still think that fire was not my — well, not entirely my fault,” corrected Trixie when Spike rolled his eyes.
“Well…” started Rarity with a glance at Fluttershy and Spike, although still avoiding looking directly at Trixie. “It would be terribly rude of me not to accept. I suppose. But only on one condition.” A fierce light seemed to ignite in the fashionista’s eyes as she turned to Trixie with an exuberant grin. “I get to burn that horrible cloak.”
“What! I’ll have you know this cloak—” Trixie cut off with a sideways glance at Spike’s smug face. The little extortionist had bet fifty bits that she would not be able to make all of her apologies without losing her composure. Gritting her teeth, Trixie turned to the almost identically smug Rarity.
“Only if I can get a suitable replacement, with the same functionality and enchantments first.”
Rarity squealed in joy, produced a measuring tape that the sneaky seamstress had been hiding all this time, and immediately began measuring her reluctant patron. “Finally! I’ve had to look at this tacky thing for three years now, and I just don’t know how Princess Celestia put up with it. You will wear your new cloak at court, will you not?
“Yeah,” muttered Trixie with a glance into the sky where the moon shone down on the sleepy little town. “Every day.”
* * *
“You know you don’t have to follow me, right?” Trixie looked back at Spike, trudging along with his ever-present shoulder bag, and some unwelcome guests.
“I’m not following you,” said Fluttershy meekly. “I’m following Spike. He’s a nice dragon, and I always love talking to him. I only get to see him once a year.”
“Well, I’m not taking my eyes off that simply awful cloak,” purred Rarity, with the air of somepony who had a book of matches and could not wait to use them.
“You ordered me, Ma’am,” responded the mussed Royal Guard with a clearly uncomfortable glance around. “But if you don’t need me anymore—”
“Stay!” snapped Trixie. “Heel.”
Once they approached Ponyville Town Hall, Trixie could feel her uncertain resolve slipping away into the night air with every step. Critical audiences had always been her downfall, and three of the most critical were lurking inside, waiting for her to make the first misstep. Maybe there was a better way to think around this problem.
The gaping maw of town hall loomed before our fearless adventurer, like some sort of dismal dungeon infested by monsters and treacherous traps. From inside, the voices of three fearsome creatures could be heard, all of whom the hero had rather foolishly pledged herself to confront. United together in one place, they would be an unbeatable adversary. Obviously a clever stratagem was called for to avoid being eaten or punctured.
“Private Wind Roar, front and center.” There was an embarrassingly long moment between the order and the Royal Guard suddenly jolting into action, darting forward with a clatter of hooves on paving stones and giving a sloppy salute. The guard looked terrible, with tufts of hair sticking out in all directions and one of his wings had feathers sticking up.
Trixie pointed into the town hall. “Sic ‘em?”
* * *
The wooden flooring inside town hall amplified their hoofsteps while Trixie and her ‘party’ walked slowly across the cavernous room, going up to three perfectly normal ponies busily setting up punch bowls, cake covers, and plates for the upcoming real party. There was an uncomfortable feeling around the Student of the Sun, much as if she had her familiar invisibility spell cast and both the ponies behind and in front were just looking straight through her. Trixie stopped at a sufficient distance to be able to dodge any thrown objects from her audience before quietly clearing her throat and beginning. “I would—”
“Oh! Hi, Shy!” The obnoxious blue pegasus yawned while waving a hoof. “You come over to help with the party?”
“Actually I came over with Trixie,” breathed Fluttershy. “Princess Cadence ordered her to apologize to us, which seems kind of harsh. I mean she didn’t really do anything really, really bad.”
Trixie grimaced and set her jaw. “Like I was saying, I—”
“Ooo! Rarity! Are you back to finish decorating?” Pinkie Pie hopped over to a big box of decorations and started to pull out streamers, spinning to wrap them around her torso before leaping about the room and leaving a sparkly trail.
“Yes, Pinkie Pie. I believe my problem has been properly dealt with, and I am prepared to make this year’s decorations simply smashing. Not explosive,” finished Rarity with a fierce look that somehow managed not to land directly on Trixie, but did anyway.
Trixie paused, taking in the rather intense way the three ponies were not looking at her, before turning to leave. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.”
“Never stopped you before,” said Spike, standing palm-outstretched between her and the door. “Fifty bits.”
“Grr…” Trixie whirled around, but before she could open her mouth, Applejack spoke up.
“So what are you doing here, handsome?” asked the farmer, looking appreciatively at the mussed guard who had migrated to the punchbowl and begun ‘sampling.’
“I volunteered.”
Behind them, the door to the town hall slammed shut as Trixie stamped out into the darkness, alone.
* * *
The dark Everfree Forest rumbled with thunder of a most peculiar nature. A casual ear would say it was a single pony, running at a gallop along one of the forest’s many paths. But a perceptive listener would estimate it louder for some reason. As the rumbling grew in volume and the source came into view, it became apparent the noise came from two ponies, both a purple fuzzy unicorn and a somewhat taller zebra, running in such close synchronization that it was impossible to pick out the differences in their hoofbeats. The faintest of lights glowed from their eyes, and neither of them tripped over a single fallen log or protruding stone while they ran headlong down the path, headed home. Behind them floated a wide slab of bark as if a forest giant had involuntarily parted with a section of its woody hide to provide a bed for five little sleeping ponies.
Onward they ran, their progress watched by many hungry eyes.
The thudding rhythm of thundering hooves woke the crocodile from her evening drowsy nap. Movement meant only one thing to the hungry lizard: food. With cautious strokes, she began to paddle upstream to the ford where the creature would pass, clawed limbs pushing the water back while she undulated forward. After a few moments, she broke the surface of the water with only her eyes and nostrils exposed. Strangely, the riverbank was not moving, although she was paddling quite vigorously. Even additional effort left her stranded in place until she saw the two creatures splash untouched through the ford, out of reach. After a subdued grumble, the crocodile slid back underwater to await the morning sun, unaware of just how long that wait was going to be.
Zecora and Monster galloped side-by-side down the path, each hoof-strike, each breath, each anxious glance up into the starry sky identical in every regard on the outside, but their faces were studies in contrast. A deep calm enveloped the running zebra, her entire being at peace with the time of prophecy approaching, while fear and anxiety was foremost on the unicorn’s panicked expression. The stars had moved again, into a configuration with only one possible meaning.
She was coming.
* * *
Equestria spread out below them like a glittering jewel, tiny sparks of light reflecting her glorious majesty as the ponies celebrated the upcoming raising of the sun. Nightmare Moon chuckled with anticipatory glee, watching the events unfold beneath her ebon stare even as the chains which once bound her to the moon lay broken at her side.
“Behold, my precious little princess.” With a thought, Nightmare gently swept the obscuring clouds of her darkness away from the vision, revealing a tempting passageway to her unwelcome guest. With luck, the annoying weakling could be goaded into one last vain attempt to warn Celestia, and possibly this time expose herself enough to be finally exterminated from this body.
“What would you like to see in these final hours? Your sister perhaps?” The image of a pale and wan princess, scribbling away at a lamp-lit desk swam into view.
“Or perhaps your children. They have grown so fat over the years, so tasty. I shall relish devouring them all, particularly the little ones.” The moonlit night that illuminated Canterlot showed a cascade of charcoal-grey pegasi with bat-like wings and glowing golden eyes silently gathering into groups around the city. “My, what a lot of them. Their power shall be so refreshing after my long famine.”
Receiving no response, Nightmare cast her vision farther to where a pale blue unicorn with a long, knotted mane lay sobbing in an alleyway. “How the great and powerful have fallen. Perhaps after I have consumed your sister, I shall extend my hoof in mercy to her student. There is much power locked away inside that she will never be able to touch as she is now, but with a few changes and my gentle guidance, she can become powerful indeed.”
Nothing. Not even a word. Biting back a snarl, the Nightmare turned her vision onto the forest and the unlikely procession within. “Ah, my little monster. So filled with fear and anger, a delicious banquet. And you brought your little friends too.”
The five little sleeping ponies on the floating bark had rolled with the natural motion of their curved sleeping platform until they formed a multi-colored fuzzy pillow in the center, all mixed limbs and tails like some strange love monster.
“How touching. They really need to be touched.”
Nightmare reached down from the sky.
* * *
Monster knew fear. Fear lurked in dark shadows, in flashes of lightning that heralded the terrible thunder, in tooth and claw and thorn of the forest, and in her own mind. Things that she had seen a hundred times would suddenly remind her of a face or a name from her terrifying past. Colors had always been the worst, and the forest fairly oozed with a wealth of iridescent glimmers, glows, and shimmers, sometimes forcing her to hide in the dark, herbal-smelling basement of Home for days at a time.
Home was safety. Creatures and plants of the forest she could fight or flee, but her own mind refused to allow her such options anymore. Memories roared in an agonizing torrent throughout her thoughts, memories of faces and names and odors and flavors, mixed with the exaltation of power drawn from the sun and fiery agony, a pleasure and pain beyond measure. Magic coiled around her horn unconsciously while they ran, batting aside low-lying branches and vines. There was no conscious thought directing its use, but instinct can be a powerful force in a unicorn entirely too familiar with the dangerous forest, as a certain observer suddenly found out.
* * *
“You little beast!” Dark magic coiled around the immaterial form of Nightmare Moon, crackling and snapping as the moon darkened, then returned to the form it held for centuries. “You will pay for that dearly,” she hissed.
Temper, temptress.
“You!” No matter how hard Nightmare looked, rummaging through memories and long-lost experience, there was no trace of the cowardly princess to be found. “Come out and die, little one!”
No.
“Then see one die in your place, coward!”
* * *
The old panther’s ears twitched at the sound of galloping hooves, awakening him from a dreamy slumber. Prey that ran in fear was blind to attack, and easy to kill.
He hungered. Food was near.
A cloying darkness around the elderly beast wrapped him in a cold embrace, driving him down the hill towards the path regardless of the suddenly-sharp stones and razor-like blades of grass slicing at his paws. The two traveling ponies were too strong to attack directly, but the floating wood behind them held delicious young ones, all juicy and tasty. He would strike from concealment, picking one of the morsels up in his jaws and be away into the forest before they would even notice. A rugged bush that seemed to be all thorns provided the cover, allowing him to wait until after their passage. Only after they had completely passed did the panther slide out from behind the bush and pounce, a silent shadow in the inky darkness that his prey had no chance of detecting.
Stranglevine was a constant threat in the Everfree. Crawling ever so slow to position itself over well-traveled paths, it would drop down on its prey and drag them back up into the treetops to absorb desperately needed nutrients, delicious iron-rich blood, fatty tissues engorged with energy, and precious calcium, leaving only a few tattered pieces of skin. A rudimentary intelligence controlled the not-plant, not-animal with just barely enough intelligence to be frustrated when it released its embracing vines on the rich food source passing below. Or at least it tried to release its vines, only to be held fast, unable to move. A second warm source passed beneath, but only when it had gotten out of range did the writhing tentacles of vegetation manage to silently fall, catching a gamey predator in their sharp, thorny embrace. As it drew the panther’s strangled body up to be consumed, huge upper leaves extended to gather the warm rays of the sun, due to raise in just a few short hours. Digestion was a difficult business without sunlight.
The only sign there had ever been a predator on the path were a few blood-streaked pebbles, and the trace of a smile on the zebra shaman’s face while she ran.
* * *
Silent laughter filled the Nightmare’s head as she drew the veil of shadow across her vision, cutting off the source of Luna’s amusement. Rage stormed through her essence in response, a weak tea compared to her mighty power when she first confronted Celestia. She hungered for a taste, a quick descent into a town to sip the nectar of fear, the fire of fury as she killed, the despair of the weak and powerless. Far better to drink from the neverending cup of a goddess than to sip drips from the weaklings who mewed and cried at her sight.
Ever so carefully, the Nightmare drew back her curtain again until she could see Princess Celestia, sitting wan and drawn at her desk in a small puddle of golden lamplight. Instead of planning for their upcoming battle, the pathetic princess was writing, with tears of weakness in her eyes.
“Behold, my little worm. Your Celestia sits and broods while beneath her breast lays a thousand years of hatred and anger at one who stole away her sister. She has hidden it well, but I can smell the delicious aroma, power beyond measure that I hunger to drink. When I appear to her at dawn, she plans on unleashing that anger upon me. The fool.” Nightmare chuckled, watching like a starved cat waiting on a mouse, but Luna refused to rise to the bait.
“These years of starvation have made us so weak, and to be presented such a bounty on our release will be delightful. It will give me great pleasure to use her hatred to destroy you both.”
The image of Celestia below turned over a letter and placed it in a box with many others, as not to have them scattered by the night breeze that gently nudged at her thin white dress.
“Why so silent, little broken bird? Look at your poor, innocent sister. She is so unsuspecting. All it would take is a word of warning from you, and my plans would be in tatters. Go ahead. Reach out and touch your sister. Warn her.”
There was the ever so faint quiver of motion while Nightmare prepared to pounce, only to have it recede away into her mind as if it had been only her imagination. With a thought, the Nightmare drew her darkness across the image with a chuckle.
“It is too late for the both of you. The darkness is in her heart and no amount of regret or pity will cleanse it. I would be able to track her down no matter where she goes and feast upon her blackened soul. When dawn comes, we shall meet again. One last time.”
- - ☾ - -
The long-abandoned, crumbling walls of the ancient ruins stood out in stark contrast, dusty edges of eroded structures etched in moonlight that danced through the stones, making illusions appear out of the corner of the eye. If you could just turn your head fast enough, perhaps you could see a towering building, filled with happy ponies just as it had been centuries ago. But no matter how fast you turned your head, there was nothing but crumbling rock and climbing ivy. The physical bodies of the ponies who inhabited The Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters had gone many centuries ago, never to return.
Twilight and Zecora slowed their pace, finally stopping outside the thorn hedge that separated them from their forest home. Behind them, the little ponies continued in their enchanted sleep, wrapped around each other in an affectionate way that only small children filled with innocence can maintain. Mother and daughter stood silently on the open path, both looking up at the sky with only the sounds of the forest and five small snores to keep them company. Finally, the older zebra gave a sigh and sat down in order to rest her hooves, although her eyes did not leave the sky.
“My daughter, what do you see in the stars above? Is it Fate? Or Hope? Or even Love?”
“They’re afraid.” The trembling unicorn huddled closer to Zecora and panted in short breaths without moving her eyes from the star-scattered heavens. “More than me.”
Scootaloo’s wagon and scooter floated over the thorn hedge from their tree-home, wrapped in a faint violet glow. They silently tucked themselves in next to the sleeping little ponies while Monster continued to stare into the sky. When she spoke again, she spoke slowly, with her voice unnaturally rough and deep from fear, sounding out each word as if it were foreign to her.
“I see two sisters who need each other more than life. If I am not there when they meet at the birth of the sun… death.”
Monster leaned into her mother one last time before standing up by herself and facing the path leading to Ponyville. “Goodbye.”
Zecora stood up with only a small wince of pain and took her place next to her daughter. “Goodbye? Why? What kind of mother would I be, when my daughter faces her darkest fear, to flee? When you go your fears to face, at your side is my proper place.”
Monster sniffed and started to walk down the path with her mother, trailing the slab of bark with sleeping ponies behind in their wake.
Above them, the unsleeping stars continued in their courses as the hour of dawn grew nearer.
* * *
Tallgrass stumbled when moving from the brightly-lit interior of the town hall to the stygian darkness of pre-dawn Ponyville. It was a little more than an hour until the sunrise was scheduled, and there was no sign of either Princess Celestia or her annoying student, which made a good excuse for the ‘Royal Guard’ to step out of the party. Along with one other.
“You don’t think she’s found some place to drink herself senseless, do you?” asked Spike. The dragon sniffed the air with flared nostrils, seeking the telltale scent of his employer, or perhaps bourbon.
“Does it make her easier to deal with?” asked Tallgrass with a sniff of his own. The hour he had spent with Trixie this evening in his present Royal Guard disguise was very similar to the hour Trixie had spent getting a massage at the spa the previous day. Both hours had seemed like weeks, from the almost-constant complaining while Trixie was face-down on the table, and the low-grade grumbling of more recent exposure that gave him a strong urge to wash his hooves.
There was an emotional miasma that clung to the unhappy unicorn with such force that it seemed to drip wherever she went, and which the emotionally-sensitive changeling felt able to track from the other side of the town. It made for a very interesting revelation in the pre-dawn darkness as Tallgrass extended his perceptions.
He could sense two.
* * *
Five small ponies gathered around a scooter and a wagon at the edge of town, in serious discussion of a very serious problem. Overseeing the discussion was a larger pony, of white with black stripes, who looked both bemused and concerned over the discussion.
“We need to talk to Applejack!”
“No! The mayor first!”
“Rainbow Dash!”
“Girlth, can you keep it down? I’m about out of anxiety thweetth.” Twist fed her last licorice stick to the shivering unicorn hidden under a blanket in the wagon before rummaging in her saddlebags. “I could have thorwn I had more jawbreakerth.”
“The light is better over at Twist’s house,” suggested Featherweight while sucking on a jawbreaker, responding to the accusatory glare with an indignant, “Hey. I found it on the ground.”
The arguments stopped as a distant, child-like voice carried on the cool night air. “I tell you, I don’t get a whiff of her in this direction.”
“Zecora! We need to hide you!”
“Yeah, ponies around town get kind of jumpy when new ponies show up, and you’re sorta… really strange. Sorry.”
“They don’t like parathpriteth eather.”
“Or the time we brought eggs over to the library to identify them?”
“Yeah, I didn’t think they were going to hatch.”
“Or try to eat us.”
“Monster!” hissed Apple Bloom, trying to pull Zecora into a nearby alley and finding a fuzzy purple leg sticking out from the wagon had latched on first. “Let go.”
“Uh-uh.” A brilliant purple light crawled up the zebra, fading out just when a Royal Guard and a small purple dragon turned the corner.
* * *
Despite the many times as he had been in Ponyville at night over the last year, the darkness tonight gave Tallgrass a jittery disposition. It was not made one tiny bit better by the quiet whispers from underhoof as he walked around with Spike, or the little dragon’s constant worried chatter about his missing employer. As they approached the location where the changeling had detected such a gloomy emotional upwelling, he began to feel something else. Something familiar. Something that figuratively smacked him in the face as they turned the corner to see five small ponies and one large pink alicorn all looking in his direction with wide eyes.
Spike reacted first, yelping, “Princess Cadence! Are we glad to see you. Have you seen Trixie?”
Tallgrass remained silent to properly fight with his emotions, with his eyes flickering around the mismatched group of ponies while he tried to make sense of the situation.
First there was the wagon, and a fuzzy purple face that he had seen just for an instant when they rounded the corner. The short glimpse before it vanished under a blanket had given him both a sensation of incredible joy and a desire to run up and hug whatever was inside the wagon, and a sense of outright terror and an urgent need to flee the wagon as fast as possible.
Then there were the three little hellspawn and their unholy assistants, who Tallgrass had last seen while chasing them out of the spa after they had tied down the pressure relief valve on the hot mud bath warmer. He had been wearing his earth pony disguise at the time, which had been resilient enough to endure both being totally covered in hot mud, and the resulting chiseling out that needed to be done when the mud had cooled into a solid. It was only the constant flow of cinnamon sticks fed to him by their adorable little accomplice while being freed that had saved their lives, although that would change if they broke their promise and ever published any of the photos.
Last, but not least, was Queen Cadence.
But not Queen Cadence.
The changeling only had a brief glimpse of the new queen for a few chaotic seconds through the Hivemind a few hours ago. There was only one pink alicorn princess in Equestria. Whoever this was looked just like the new queen, but the strangely familiar feeling he was getting from her was certainly not the Hivemind. And this one was younger than the princess should be, with her mane tied up in a ponytail. Strangely enough, the alicorn wore an expression of absolute bafflement as she looked over her own body, even going so far as lifting a wing and examining it.
“My Quee — Princess. Um. What are you doing here?” asked Tallgrass, with a sudden realization that the voices he heard talking up through his hooves had all gone silent the moment he spoke.
The alicorn finished looking herself over and gave a brisk nod. “I am talking with these young ponies, as you can see. My appearance is also quite a surprise to me.”
“Oh.” His eyes were drawn to the darkness that formed from under the blanket when a small form in the wagon silently peeked out at him, her horn glimmering ever so softly. “Well. Your Highness, we must be going. Need to catch a pony. Come on, Spike. Hurry up.”
The disguised changeling departed at a quick trot, breaking into a canter as soon as he and the dragon were out of sight. What drove him away at such a clip was not the creature’s horn, but her eyes, their dark circles under the blanket having only the slightest tinge of violet, but filled to overflowing with the terror of a cornered animal.
A fear entirely too much like the one he could feel from Trixie.
- - ☾ - -
Silence covered the streets of Canterlot, since the normal all-night celebration of the Summer Sun Celebration had been snuffed out rather solidly by the sudden influx of wounded and frightened changelings. It made a brief pocket of peace for Princess Celestia to remain in her bedroom, writing down things she never had time to write before. Throughout the centuries of her existence, there had never been enough time for everything she wanted to do, and soon there would be no more time to write, only time to die.
In order to catch one last breath of a familiar scent, her window remained open to the courtyard below and the private gardens she had cultivated for so long. The memories they stirred only brought back the heartache of losing Luna so long ago, but Celestia found herself clinging to the familiar pain this evening, because it was all that she had left.
When Luna had been imprisoned, Celestia’s world had shattered. Night after night, the evidence of her failure had almost made Celestia throw away her own life, if not for the gardens she created to be a memorial to her beloved sister. They had started small, at first, with long walks in the moonlight in the empty expanse of grass next to the field of statues. She had needed to talk with without interruption or accusation, and the silent pale bodies in the moonlight had filled that need.
Then she found the lone weed, and watered it with her tears.
The next night, there were two of them, side by side, with open blossoms shimmering in the corrupted moonlight.
Night after night, she added to the collection. A seedling here, a bit of rootstock there, in the hopes of keeping Luna’s memory alive when she herself had passed on. As the gardens took shape, Celestia had poured her own soul into creating a place of beauty where Luna could be remembered. Eventually, the labor of love had overcome her grief, for if Luna did return, she would feel in her own heart the endless agony Celestia could barely endure. For centuries she had raised the moon within the refuge of those green walls, seeking solace in a place of peace where she could touch the hateful beast in the moon and still dream of her sister trapped inside.
Now the garden was abandoned to the care of the gardeners who kept the plants alive even as the reason for their growth had passed.
It was just a dream. Luna was dead. Only the beast remained.
While Celestia remained awake at her desk far past the midnight hour, the shadows outside her window slowly began to fill with the rustle of wings and the glow of golden eyes. From all across Equestria, they gathered within the city and waited. Young, old, male and female, all with one thought.
The Nightmare was returning.
And there was one task her creations had waited a thousand years to complete.
- - ☾ - -