IV. VISIONS AND PHANTASMS

Luna, Alone + Nurse Redheart Makes Tea + Discord Bad + A Guest in the Night + Buckets as Essential Magical Implements + A Series of Increasingly Distressing Tea Parties + You’re My Faithful Student + Twilight Decides + A Pressing Need

~(E)~

The moon had begun to wax, and so had its Princess; she had begun the slow growth back to her full glory, and the ends of her mane faded from pale blue into a haze of starlights, which smoked and wavered weirdly against the darkening sky, one trying to blend into the other.

Whatever thoughts dwelt in her mind were dark indeed. Her face, so inclined to mysterious smiles and inscrutable glances was wooden and stiff, her lips occasionally trembling to hint at a sneer, or a grimace, or even something like a sob. Her eyes were glued to the distant horizon, where, with complete insensitivity to the princess’ feelings, the sun insisted on setting. The poetry of the situation was making her ill.

“Twilight…” the princess murmured, deep in thought. She continued watching for some time as the red disc of the sun slipped below the horizon. The sea of stars spread overhead, gleaming dully so as not to disturb their mistress’ thoughts.

With startling suddenness, the Princess spread her wings wide and wrapped them around herself like a cloak. With a vortex of shadowy power, she vanished into the night.

“Twi, hun, please, ya gotta tell us what happened.” Applejack tried to lift Twilight’s face up to meet her gaze, but the unicorn’s eyes kept drifting away into nothingness as she reclined limply on the library table.

Twilight slumped forward again, eyes half-closed, a stupid, slack-jawed grin plastered across her features. Applejack frowned at Rarity, who shook her head sadly. It was getting worse.

The Elements of Harmony were all present in the library, displaying various shades of distress. Pinkie and Fluttershy sat together, one unusually quiet and the other in full-on comfort mode, her soft voice cooing gently to the pink pony. Rainbow Dash flitted nervously along the railings of the upper-floor landings, muttering to herself, while Applejack, Spike, and Rarity sat near Twilight, watching for any sign of a meaningful response.

“Stop bothering her, honestly,” Nurse Redheart called from the kitchen. The doctor who had tried to inspect Twilight had retired for the night in frustration, unable to get a word out of the unicorn save for some nonsensical mumbling that sounded like apologies, completely at odds with her expression of terminal bliss. Similarly, they had been unable to move her from the library table—literally, somehow, unable to move her with anything short of three ponies pushing as hard as they could. In fact, the only thing that had gotten any real reaction out of her since Dash’s arrival had been—

“I’ve made some tea.” Nurse Redheart pushed in a trolley with a battered tea set steaming on it, looking harassed.

Rainbow Dash and Applejack spun to face her, eyes lit up in alarm. “Wait!” they shrieked.

Twilight didn’t even turn around; her horn just lit with magic power, tearing the trolley from Redheart’s control. The nurse made to reach for it, but Rainbow Dash tackled her to the ground. “Hey, what are you—“

The trolley, and the tea service atop it, were suddenly crushed into a crude sphere, much smaller than anypony might have guessed it could be, which spun in the air for a moment to universal fascination before being hurled out of a second-story window with force.

Applejack sighed. “Dash, ya best go catch that afore it lands on somepony.” The pegasus nodded eagerly and tore off out the window with a little salute.

“What…what was that?” Nurse Redheart was still huddled on the ground, looking terrified.

Fluttershy reached a hoof down to her, smiling gently. “That happened when Rarity made tea earlier, too,” she said. “We’re not, um, totally sure why.”

The nurse pony accepted Fluttershy’s help up, her normally unflappable attitude failing her. “Unicorns are always a problem.” She shook her head ruefully. “Look, it’s clear you all have your hooves on this better than we do.”

“Come on, you six are always dealing with this kind of thing. Weird magic stuff. This is way outside our realm of expertise. So if anything medical happens, just…come get us, okay? There’s only so much we can do when we can’t find anything wrong with her except that she won’t talk to anyone. Keep her calm. Let her come to in her own time.” The nurse gave them all a curt nod and took her leave.

The room fell silent again, everypony caught in an agony of confusion and doubt. Of course they were used to dealing with weird magic stuff, but…it was usually Twilight doing the dealing.

Dash had been the first on the scene, and the last to hear anything from Twilight that wasn’t a vague expression of confusion or a weird snatch of apology. Rarity and Scootaloo had been only the briefest moment behind her, and while Scootaloo summoned the other Elements and the doctor, Rarity and Rainbow Dash had experimented with different ways to provoke a response from her, the only notable success of their efforts being the destruction of a particularly fine gilded tea service which was now lodged somewhere in the southern fields of Sweet Apple Acres.

Spike had scrambled up from his basement lair as they did this; he had been sleeping off the remainder of the Apple Family’s best and had not been immediately conscious of what the loud sounds he had heard were. He now sat very quietly near Twilight, having said extremely little, most of which had been hopeless statements to the tune of, “I should have been there,” in miserable tones of guilt.

“Got it! Right over the rail station,” Rainbow Dash said, proudly, reappearing at the window. She vanished from the window and entered through the door. It had taken Twilight several years to break her of her habit of arriving in the library through windows, but the training had set in deep. “I still can’t believe the princess would do something like this to Twilight—“

“I still refuse to believe that the princess did this on purpose,” Rarity sniffed, “If she had anything to do with it at all.” Despite her firm tone, she seemed deeply troubled.

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Oh, give me a break, Rarity! Of all ponies, you should be on my side here. I mean, what did she do to you, huh? Do you know?” The pegasus flitted nearby, waving an accusatory hoof in Rarity’s face. The unicorn stared at it, warily. “Maybe you don’t know, because your mind’s all screwed up now—“

“Enough!” Applejack stamped a hoof, making a huge clap on the floor. “Y’all are havin’ the same argument y’all have been havin’ all day.”

“Hey, I’m just sayin’, if somepony hadn’t stopped me getting here faster, maybe things would be different!” Dash shot Rarity a dirty look, making Rarity sniff haughtily.

“Yeah, we’d be frettin’ about Rainbow Dash lyin’ there droolin’ too.” Applejack gave her friend a wry grin. “They didn’t make Twi an Arch-Mage fer bein’ a good librarian, Ah’ll tell ya that much. An’ she’s a darned good librarian.”

“Instead of us barkin’ each other up trees, let’s just put it out there that we’re all scared, okay?” Applejack gave Dash a sympathetic look. “Even if we’re all dealin’ with it in our own way.”

“I’m not scared,” Dash huffed. “I’m angry. Come on, don’t you guys want to get to the bottom of this?”

“Dashie, you’re the scarediest of all of us,” Pinkie Pie said, her voice tinged with an unusual streak of nervousness. “Your wings are all—poof! Ker-fluffle!”

Rainbow Dash quickly glanced back at her wings and saw that they were, indeed, all ker-fluffle. Giving Applejack and Rarity’s smug grins a sour look, she stretched and waved them a few times until her feathers fell into their proper place. “Don’t get weird ideas.” She tossed her head up in the air with arrogant pride. “I’m just…upset, is all, okay?”

Everypony looked around at each other awkwardly. Dash’s bravado, usually a source of quiet amusement, had sounded even more false and hollow than it usually did.

“It’s really bad this time, isn’t it,” Spike whispered. “Like, Discord bad.”

Nopony wanted to answer, but they all thought the same thing. It was at least Discord bad, and when things were this bad in the past, it had always been Twilight Sparkle leading the way, head held up proudly and voice bursting with enthusiasm and confidence...and standing behind her was Princess Celestia, always hinting but never quite stating that no matter how dark things got, the dawn would come again.

But now that situation was completely reversed. The ponies found Dash’s threatening implications about the princess falling on unusually receptive ears. Dark visions poked their fell heads out of the depths of their imagination—memories of the last princess gone bad they’d seen mixed with the rare but all-too-unforgettable displays of Celestia’s immortal power in a very natural way.

Everypony realized how pointless it was to think it, but they couldn’t help reflecting that Twilight would have known what to do. She would have remembered a scrap of ancient lore, or had a colleague researching the topic, or at the very least, would have known what book to read. Spike had pulled down several thick grimoires that might have been about magically-induced illness based on their titles, but only about half of each page had been words anypony recognized and the illustrated diagrams hadn’t been anything anypony wanted to let their minds linger on just then. The room had shared a collective vision of Twilight surrounded by a swirling halo of books and scrolls, referencing and cross-referencing effortlessly, pages flying madly—

Night had fallen in earnest over Ponyville now; the windows of the library were little pools of blackness. Owloysius stirred on his perch upstairs and, with a quiet hoo-hoo, bid the ponies good night and vanished into the gloom.

“Heavens ta hooves, it’s dark…what’s the weather supposed ta be like tonight, Dash?” Applejack looked up at the window the owl had departed from. “It was so lovely last night…the sky was almost purple, the stars were so bright.”

Dash waved a hoof vaguely. “Oh, they never tell me anything anymore,” she said, trying very hard to sound dismissive. Applejack raised an eyebrow. “What? You want me to poke my head out and spitball it or something?”

Dash favored her friend with an irritable look, but leaped to a second-floor window. “Looks clear to me, but it is dark out there…I can barely see across the plaza! Let’s see…”

“Agh!” Spike belched hugely, a burst of green fire singeing Applejack and Rarity’s manes as they leapt out of the way with a yelp. A black scroll appeared, and he deftly snatched it from the air, a practiced flick of his thumb talon slicing the blue wax seal neatly in half. He unrolled it and held it in front of himself.

“Spike!” Rarity snapped, reappearing from under the table. “What was—“

“Uh,” Spike said, his face even more anxious than it already was, if that were at all possible. “We’re about to have a visitor…”

A furious gale whipped through the Library. The doors and windows slammed open with a bang, eliciting terrified squeaks from Fluttershy and Pinkie, who huddled together against the biting cold of the wind. Rainbow Dash, hovering near a window, was thrown backwards with a squawk of surprise, tumbling head-over-hooves into the railing of the second-floor landing. All the candles in the tree went out, filling the room with pitch black, the dim starlight only adding weird texture to the darkness. The wind seemed to have a cruel mind of its own, swirling and howling in the library, pulling books and scrolls off their shelves into a vicious whirlwind for a moment before it passed with a soul-chilling moan.

“Everypony, stay calm now!” Applejack shouted over the nervous sounds coming from around the room. “Spike, can you give us some light?”

“Uh, yeah!” He groped around in the dark for the candlestick he’d heard rolling near his head. He brought it up to his lips and with care breathed a gentle little green flame onto the wick. “Okay, got it—“ he began, looking up.

“Where. Is. She?” Princess Luna asked, her voice a shard of ice from deepest space. Her face was inches from his, staring at him over the little candle light. Each word was spoken as if it were a cold iron spike being driven into the ground.

Spike cried out in alarm, stumbling backwards and fumbling the candle, which flipped end-over-end in the air. It was halted by a little burst of blue magic, suspending it in mid-air. Around the room, every candle bloomed a little blue flame, burning coldly in the still-chilly library.

In the sudden light, everypony stared at her at her place at the head of the table in horrified awe. By blue candlelight, Luna seemed ghostly and dreadful, standing proudly at the head of the fine table that dominated the library floor, wings outstretched like great plumes of shadow—the Mistress of the Night on full, terrible display.

“I would have words with the Arch-Mage,” said the Princess of the Moon. “Where is Twilight Sparkle? Hmm?” She spoke quietly, drawing out the words of the question in a dusky whisper. It was almost pleasant to listen to; the ponies were like mice appreciating the sound of a purring cat.

Despite themselves, despite their memories of her bright laughter and deep, passionate friendship, the ponies found themselves terrified of Luna, even as she spoke with icy calm, no open threat on her tongue. She had been practicing being frightening every year, after all, and had gotten extremely good at it.

Princess Luna set the candle down and looked around slowly. “Sing out, my little ponies. Am I not your belov’d princess..?” She began prowling around the edge of the table slowly, looking down her face at the other ponies haughtily.

“Princess or not, you have a lot of nerve showing up like this—“ Rainbow Dash snarled, leaping from a pile of debris.

“Dash, you calm down right now!” Applejack shouted over the brash pegasus’ threatening voice. “Princess! We’re friends! We’re all friends here! Jus’…everypony calm down, okay!?”

“Do not presume to command me,” the princess hissed, her voice now harsh and vicious. “Not even thou, Applejack. Not now—“

“Princess, please,” Fluttershy said, stepping forward timidly. “You’re scaring us.”

The princess snapped her attention to the trembling pegasus, holding her in a baleful gaze. Fluttershy swallowed, but returned the frozen glare with an expression of as much courage as she could muster.

In the furious, ice-blue eyes, Fluttershy recognized an immensely powerful creature driven mad with fury by fear and impotence, like a bear driven out of its home by some ferocious monster, deep in the Ever-Free Forest. She gave the princess a nervous, but genuine smile of sympathy.

They held each other’s gaze for a lifetime of heartbeats. It was Luna who broke contact first, looking away from her friend with a shamed expression; she closed her eyes and sighed, heavily, her wings folding to her sides and her stance softening. The candles began burning a merry amber, filling the room with warm light which seemed to return the early summer warmth to the library as well. Outside, stars burned the heavens blue once again, twinkling merrily in the sky.

“Thank you,” Fluttershy said, quietly. Luna nodded, not looking up, taking great, deep breaths.

The princess waved her head irritably, and the books and scrolls leapt back into place, followed by various artifacts and curios Twilight had on display. With ill grace she stepped forward and collapsed into one of the rosewood chairs, not meeting anypony’s eyes, embarrassment and anxiety warring on her features.

“Now what was that all ab—“ Rainbow Dash began, but stifled herself as Luna’s eyes flashed to hers, her gaze and harsh and penetrating like sapphire lances.

“How ‘bout you jus’ stay quiet, Dash?” Applejack gave the pegasus a sharp look.

Fluttershy stepped up to Luna. “Princess, I think you need to tell us what’s the matter,” she said, gently putting a hoof on the princess’ shoulder. Luna started, startled at the sudden contact, but Fluttershy’s compassionate smile was about the most nonthreatening thing in the universe. The Moon Princess appeared to melt, looking sullen and anxious.

“I need to speak with Twilight Sparkle,” Luna grumbled. Her displeasure at being dependent on another pony was painted broadstroke across her features. “Things…go ill with my sister.”

“Things ‘go ill’ with Twilight as well, Princess,” Rarity said, getting to her hooves.

“Maybe ya oughta see fer yerself,” Applejack said. “She fell down over here.”

Luna rose and trotted over to when Twilight lay, moaning quietly. Applejack strained at her until she had rolled the unicorn onto her back. The smile was gone, but her expression was still distant and limp. Luna recoiled, eyes wide, bringing a hoof up in front of her chest as if to ward off a blow.

Luna’s eyes flitted across the unicorn, a grimace spreading across her face. “Oh, sister…” Luna whispered.

“Will you act with some decorum, for once in your life? Honestly,” Rarity sniffed.

“In a way, Rainbow Dash has seen to the heart of the issue,” Luna said, but she gave the pegasus a dark glare despite this. “Only my sister could have done something like this, especially to Twilight Sparkle.”

“Something of that nature, yes...” Luna looked off into the distance. “This is worse than I thought. I’ve been so…” She shook her head, looking pained.

Luna shook her head. “We shall discuss that when I have revived Twilight Sparkle…” She trailed off, looking at nothing in particular, tapping a hoof in front of herself absently. Everypony stood around, watching the princess nervously.

“I shall need a bucket,” Luna said, finally. The rest of the room shared a look of total mystification.

“A…bucket?” Spike’s face screwed up in confusion. His little reptile eyes slipped back and forth nervously. “I’ve never heard of any magic using a bucket…well, except for that sand castle spell—that was pretty cool. I mean, woosh! Towers everywhere, I tell you! But I don’t see how it would help here, I mean, no sand. See, what I thought you would want is—“

“Spike, dear, you’re babbling.” Rarity put a hoof around his shoulders, having to rise onto her hind legs to reach high enough. He gave her a grateful smile.

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll go get the pail from the garden.” He lumbered off out the door.

“The bucket will be…essential,” Luna said absently. Straining against the weird, localized gravity that was affecting Twilight, the princess raised Twilight back up onto the table, Applejack and Pinkie Pie guiding the unicorn into a position of relative comfort as best they could. “Has she responded to anything happening in the real world?”

“Nothing!” Pinkie Pie waved her arms around wildly, making gestures to match her explanation. “We tried talking to her, singing to her, telling jokes to her, reading stories to her, putting Gummy on her head, putting Owloysius on her head, reading letters to her—Dashie even wanted to kiss her but Rarity and Applejack wouldn’t let her.” Behind the pink pony, Dash blushed into Luna’s raised eyebrow. “Oh oh oh ooh, except the tea sets. She really hates tea sets. Smash! Zoom!”

“Smashing them with magic? Really..? Hmm.” Luna stared back down at Twilight. The goofy, slack smile had returned, and her lips were moving wordlessly. Luna seemed pleased. “Good.”

Luna’s smile faded. “Well, it’s…it might be good. Perhaps. If we’re lucky.” Everypony looked at each other anxiously.

The door opened, and Spike returned, holding a large, beaten-up metal bucket. “Got it.”

“Very well. Stand there, please, I’ll need that in a second.” Luna nodded to him. “Everypony, please step back.”

“Oooh, because of magic?” Pinkie crooned. Behind her, Fluttershy covered her muzzle with her hooves.

Luna gave her an uncomfortable look. “In a manner of speaking, yes,” she said. The princess closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and gently tapped Twilight’s forehead with her horn. There was a sound like somepony tapping the edge of a wine glass, and then—

Sweet herbal tea pooled in the cup. Celestia and Twilight Sparkle gratefully sniffed the plume of steam that rose from it, smiling at each other, each taking a small amount of simple joy in the little ritual.

“Yes, extremely nice. I’m so glad we had time to sit down for some tea,” Twilight said.

They sipped the tea in perfect synchrony. Around them, Canterlot gardens was totally silent, its normal buzz of natural activity hushed as all existence stilled to allow Celestia and her precious, beloved Twilight Sparkle to have a moment to just sit together.

“I am? That’s so great. Just great. Yes.” They sipped the tea again, in perfect unison.

“Oh, Princess Luna,” Twilight said, not looking around. “So nice of you to join us.”

“Yes, sister, how nice of you to join us. I’m so pleased.” Celestia smiled more broadly than Luna had ever seen her, even in the old days.

“So sorry to…intrude,” Luna said, stepping forward. She sat at the table, between Celestia and Twilight, who didn’t take their eyes off each other.

“Would you care for some tea?” Twilight asked, summoning a cup and filling it without waiting for an answer.

Luna nodded, slowly. A thought occurred to her. She doubted it would work, but… “You may have mentioned this in the past, sister. What was it you were telling me, just the other day..?”

Celestia frowned, looking puzzled. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember just now.”

“I often speak of Twilight’s research. I am, after all, very proud of it.” Celestia beamed at Twilight, who grinned and blushed.

“Worse than you think,” Luna said, pointedly. She stared at Twilight, who regarded her impassively.

“I think you should leave,” Twilight said calmly. “You’re upsetting the princess.”

The two shared a little salut and sipped the tea—not in harmony, this time, just naturally as anything. They smiled to each other, the quiet, knowing smile of two ponies whose relationship is such that they don’t even need to speak to express total affection. Around them, Canterlot gardens buzzed with life and activity in the mid-day sun.

“Good afternoon, sister,” Celestia said, breaking eye contact with Twilight to address the newcomer.

Luna stepped out of the undergrowth. “And to you. I see Twilight is here as well.”

“I was so glad you could attend the conference, Twilight,” Celestia said. “Although it pains me to tear you away from things in Ponyville.”

Twilight blushed. “Anything for you, princess,” she said, bashfully. “Not much was happening, anyways.”

“This is a memory, isn’t it,” Luna said, appearing out of a shadow nearby. “Or at least, part of one. I can’t change things. You’re very clever.”

“Don’t talk to Princess Celestia that way!” Twilight leapt to her feet. “I don’t know how you returned, Nightmare Moon, but I won’t let you harm the princess!”

“Nightmare Moon? What—“ Luna looked down. A familiar set of silver armor adorned an ebon-black body. She looked up, fury lit white-hot in her eyes. “Twilight Sparkle, what have you done—“

“Enough!” Luna roared, bursting out of the undergrowth. “Enough, Twilight!”

“Not you,” Luna snapped. “Her!” She pointed a hoof at a shrubbery, which burst in a shower of leaves. Another Twilight was crouching there, hooves raised as if manipulating something, an expression of total shock on her face. She chuckled, nervously.

Sweet herbal tea pooled in the cup. Celestia and Twilight Sparkle gratefully sniffed the plume of steam that rose from it—

“Rrrrraaaagh!” Princess Luna leapt into a patch of undergrowth nearby, landing heavily on something which grunted under her weight.

“It’s nice to see your sister getting really excited about pest control,” Twilight said.

“She’s always been so enthusiastic about her work,” Celestia replied, sipping the tea. “It’s really one of her more endearing qualities.”

Luna’s head rose from the undergrowth, looking annoyed. “What?” she said, turning back to whatever she was sitting on in the brush. “Really?”

The Twilight who was sitting with Celestia looked over at the sound in alarm. Celestia sipped her tea.

“Enough of this, Twilight,” Luna growled, hauling the unicorn up into the air with magic. The Twilight at the table looked to Celestia in terror. The alicorn shrugged and calmly sipped her tea again. “Your friends are terrified, and it’s not going to get any better until you stop indulging it.”

“Let me go! Let me go!” There was a burst of purple light and the real Twilight fell awkwardly to the ground, rolling to her hooves as best she could.

Luna looked at her, a mix of irritation and grudging admiration on her face. “I am nearly as strong here as I can be, and yet…” She shook her head. “You really are something special.”

“I really hope you didn’t think she’d fall for something that obvious,” Celestia said, not looking up from her tea. “Honestly, sister, show some effort.”

Sweet herbal tea pooled in the cup, which shattered, spraying hot liquid all over Celestia and Twilight. They reared up, gasping and spitting.

“Twilight Sparkle!” Luna said, floating out of the sky on even wingbeats. Magic whirled madly around every word. “A word, if you please.”

“Yes, Princess?” the Twilight at the table chirped, then covered her mouth with a hoof.

“Not you.” Luna sighed, rolling her eyes. She glanced around the gardens, huffing irritably. “Twilight! Show yourself!”

“It’s my mind,” the voice replied with forced nonchalance. “I can do what I like.”

“Not when it means rolling around on your library table drooling,” Luna snapped.

“Yes.” Luna continued casting about, looking for the wayward unicorn. “Come out, Twilight. You know as well as I that this isn’t healthy.”

The Twilight and Celestia on the ground had resumed their tea, pouring the steaming liquid into nonexistent cups and smiling at each other as it pooled on the table.

“Oh, don’t be petulant,” Luna said, irritably. “It doesn’t suit you. You’re far too intelligent for this.”

“Look at that! It’s perfect. Mentor and student, taking time for each other. Why wouldn’t I want that?” Twilight’s voice mewled miserably. “I had it, once.”

Luna looked at the two figures pouring tea onto the table. “Besides the obvious..?”

“Shut up! You did that.” There was a weird moment of distortion and the mess was gone, Celestia and Twilight chatting merrily over perfect cups of tea. Despite herself, Luna chuckled.

“Twilight, you know that’s in the past, now. It can’t be that way anymore.”

“Twilight, why do you want things to be like this?” Luna asked. She closed her eyes. “Do you want to always be a little filly following after my sister, hanging on her every word?”

Luna grimaced. “Stop it. You know you deserve better. You know you can dream of better—even if you don’t let yourself remember.” The silence that responded was decidedly sullen. “I certainly hope you didn’t think you could force yourself to forget your dreams every night without me noticing, Twilight,” Luna said, smiling just a little.

There was no response, but there was a subtle change in the flow of the dream. Luna allowed herself to descend to the ground, and with case, felt her way about the change. She closed her eyes and focused on the images around her, trying to see through Twilight’s perceptions and latch onto the ultimate abstract forms at their root. It was hard to keep a hold on them—Twilight’s mind was putting up a fight, more than the reflexive defense anypony’s mind did against this sort of intrusion. Twilight was good, a powerful mage with a disciplined mind, and Luna found herself struggling to keep up.

“Twilight Sparkle,” she said. “You know it pains me to see you doing this to yourself.”

Sweet herbal tea poured from the china kettle, spilling upwards neatly and vanishing into the sky. Celestia and Twilight sniffed the empty air, taking a small amount of pleasure in the familiar ritual.

“This is just a story you’ve been telling yourself, Twilight,” said a hedge. It burst into a shower of leaves, which spun and whirled madly into the shape of Princess Luna, spitting out a stick. “And I’ll thank you to never do that again.”

“Just leave me alone,” Twilight moaned. The voice came from around a corner in the hedges. Luna stepped forward, ignoring the seated pair, and peered around the bushes. Twilight Sparkle—the real one—was huddling there, her face a portrait of misery, her horn lit furiously. Luna looked to the seated pair, and it became apparent what Twilight was manipulating—they were crude wooden marionettes of herself and Celestia, jabbering and clacking insanely, their "voices" harsh rasps. She looked back to Twilight, whose hooves were now clearly laden and bound with puppet-strings, each being precisely controlled with magic.

Luna considered Twilight for some time. The unicorn looked up at her nervously now and again, her attention focused on the puppet show. The Celestia puppet was heaping praise on the Twilight puppet, who received it gratefully, over and over again.

“May I speak with the part of you that knows what’s going on is unhealthy, please?” Luna asked, nonchalantly.

Twilight gave her an acid look. “Which part would that be? The part who can’t do anything right? The part who can’t keep everyone happy? The part who’s a failure?”

“The part that’s been crushing tea sets in the waking world.” Luna lay down next to Twilight. “The part that is, in fact, you, not the little filly letting her emotions run wild.”

Twilight looked away, ashamed. Luna held the unicorn in an imperious gaze for a time, noticing with growing unease the way that the strings danced and tugged at Twilight’s limbs even now that Twilight had stopped manipulating them.

“I suspect, my friend, that this is very comfortable for you,” Luna said, as if it weren’t important. She looked off into the distance, where the silhouettes of passing birds flew backwards across a purple sky, suspended by a thin black line. “May I ask why you feel you need comfort?”

“You know, it really makes me crazy when you try to act like her,” Twilight said, not looking up.

With remarkable prescience, Luna bit her lower lip, and the snap reply that had leapt to her tongue with it. She closed her eyes, breathed out slowly, calming herself. “Thank you for telling me. But I suspect you were just trying to get on my nerves.”

Luna snapped a hoof down in front of her, thumping against the earth of Canterlot gardens. “Enough of this…this…petulance. I’m trying to make this easy on you.”

The princess again paused, stretching one wing, then the other, then her neck, in the slow way Celestia had taught her. It never seemed to work as well for Luna. “I’m tired of fighting you, and you know I’ll win eventually. So just stop. We don’t have time for this.”

Something in her tone—perhaps the very frankness of the statement from the reflexively mercurial princess—made Twilight look up. Sullen defiance was naked on her features and her eyes were tired and heavy-lidded, but the light of wary concern was lit deep in them. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been…foolish,” Luna admitted, though it was through her teeth. “Celestia’s been even more foolish. And you’re here being as foolish as it’s possible to be.”

Luna gave her a sharp look, to Twilight’s smug satisfaction. “I’ll explain. Later. You’re the one we need to worry about at the moment.”

“Worry?” Twilight looked away, airily. “I’m fine. Just enjoying happy memories.” She gave the marionettes a complicated series of tugs, and the teacups lifted and poured themselves down the front of the wooden Celestia and Twilight.

The all-too-recent memory of Celestia gazing off into the distance over Sweet Apple Acres, her face pained, enjoying similarly happy memories occurred to the princess. “These aren’t memories anymore, Twilight,” Luna said.

“Sure they are.” Twilight shook her head, looking upwards in a theatrical display of summoning a memory. “This was the evening after I managed to keep myself invisible in front of the entire court for a whole session, standing in front of Princess Celestia where everypony was sure to see me. Even the guards didn’t notice.”

“It’s immaterial whether they are or are not totally legitimate memories at this point, actually.” Luna raised an eyebrow. “Those chains are my main concern.”

“Chains? What are you…talking…about…” Twilight raised her hooves. Huge, rusty manacles bound her limbs, and as she leapt in sudden terror, a sudden yank at her neck made her aware of a previously unsuspected collar.

“Oh, dear, you really did think you were in control here, didn’t you..?” Luna inspected a hoof carefully, sounding bored.

“What is this? What did you do?” Twilight grunted as the chains began to pull and yank in time with the movements of the gruesome marionettes, which clacked and gibbered horribly.

Luna rolled her eyes. “You know very well that all I did was talk. You’d know if I had changed something. Stay calm, please.”

Luna looked up at Twilight’s horn, which was still glowing fiercely. “Yes, it is. I can barely stand to deal with you when you’re like this.”

“Like I said, my sister has been foolish,” Luna said in her apathetic voice, “But you’ve been even more foolish. For some time now.”

“So you keep—agh!—telling me,” Twilight managed as the Celestia puppet spread a wing, yanking Twilight’s right hind leg awkwardly.

Luna ignored her, and looked out at the marionettes, which were nattering and cackling madly. “Honestly, a tea party..?”

“I suppose my sister’s fondness for the wretched stuff would rub off on you over the years,” Luna said, mildly.

“Ha ha.” Twilight grunted under the strain of another pull from the marionettes. “Are you going to help me—mmnnh!—or what?”

“Alright, alright.” Luna observed the situation for a while longer. “You’ve been replaying this in your head for the last few hours, Twilight. It’s a comforting scenario for you, one you’ve thrown yourself into wholeheartedly.” The chains rattled, and Twilight gave a strangled cry of pain as they constricted. “See? You’re feeling a bit threatened. Binding yourself to the fantasy.”

Twilight struggled with the chains, whimpering and snorting in fear. They bit at her hooves painfully.

“You know very well that physical action is somewhat pointless without accompanying mental effort here, Twilight,” Luna said, calmly. “Just relax…and think.”

Luna gave her a cool glance. “Here, Twilight. You came here for comfort. Why Celestia? Why tea? Why not…Rainbow Dash? She seemed to think kissing you would help you wake up. Have you been reading her fairy tales, perhaps?”

“Because…” Twilight trailed off, ceasing her struggles against the chains. They fell slack, no longer tugging at her as she mastered herself. “Because…it…it’s about them. Kind of.”

There was an expectant quality to the hush which followed this; Luna occasionally gave the mare next to her a cool glance, but said nothing. Twilight looked around, her face cycling through expressions rapidly.

“It was Dash leaving for the Wonderbolts,” Twilight said, eventually. Her voice was quiet.

“Would this be related to her beliefs about kissing?” Luna gave Twilight another wily look. “Have you been keeping secrets?”

“No, nothing like that. That was just…” Twilight blushed again, deep crimson, and shook her head. “It’s just…she’s a charismatic pony, isn’t she? Everything she does is…big, and bold. Colorful, just like her.” The chains leading to the puppets were still, and the marionettes themselves were twitching weirdly now that Twilight wasn’t jerking along in proper time. Luna gave them a wary look. “Her absence…scared me, a little. Everything seemed less…bright.”

“And then Rarity’s career took off,” Twilight continued. “Not that I resented it, of course…what kind of friend would I be, then? I mean, I suggested half of it. But…she’s gone all the time now, all over Equestria. And she drags Fluttershy with her half the time. And Applejack has been so busy as Sheriff…”

“I just wanted something I could hold on to,” the unicorn said, sadly. “Something…something that made me…” She waved her hooves, and the Celestia puppet hugged the Twilight puppet clumsily. “Something that made me special.”

Princess and prisoner sat together in silence again, for awhile. Twilight made a sound that might have been a suppressed sob.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Twilight.” Luna gave Twilight a patronizing look. “Twilight, even if she hadn’t taken you as a student, you would have been an exceptional pony. That much is obvious.”

Luna rolled her eyes. “Very well, very well…so, your life is changing, again, in a way you find unpleasant…and you need something to hold on to. So why not hold on to Celestia, yes? She is, after all, the immortal princess who was your constant guiding light in life up until you moved to Ponyville…”

Twilight said nothing, but trembled a little. Luna spread a wing over her, and Twilight curled into it.

Luna smiled gently and gave Twilight a little squeeze with her wing. “Twilight, you know that isn’t true.”

“If I was a good enough student, she…wouldn’t have abandoned me. I mean, she…” Twilight trailed off. “I…why would she leave me, otherwise? What reason could she have had?” The unicorn looked up at Luna. “Did I do something wrong?”

“It means what it means, Twilight. Things have gotten very confused between yourself and my sister. I confess that I own some of the blame. I should have acted sooner, when I realized what was happening.”

Twilight, despite her sniffles, gave Luna a suspicious look. “What do you mean? What is happening?”

Twilight huffed and shook off Luna’s embrace. “Then why are you here, bothering me? Go find out.”

“The Princess has made it fairly clear,” Twilight said imperiously, “That she doesn’t need me anymore.”

Luna groaned. Being the wise and mysterious sister was turning out to be an incredible hassle. “I’ll tell you what she doesn’t need anymore,” Luna said flatly. “What she doesn’t need is another subject. Another groveling little pony kissing her hooves and promising to dance along to whatever tune my sister sees fit to play.” Luna raised her hooves in front of herself and danced them back and forth as she said this, her tone mocking.

“Quiet. I’m trying to get it word-for-word,” Luna said, smiling nastily. “Ahem.

My friend Applejack is the best friend a pony could ever have, and she's always there to help anypony. The only trouble is, when she needs help she finds it hard to accept it. So while friendship is about giving of ourselves to friends, it's also about accepting what our friends have to offer.

“How was that?” Luna asked, smiling innocently. Twilight had winced through the whole thing.

Luna inspected a hoof idly. “I suppose you could say I am your faithful student, Twilight. I never have thanked you, I’m sorry…” Her tone was as inscrutable as ever, but something in her eyes told Twilight that a frightened Luna, newly restored, had hungrily pored over some letters her sister had given her from time to time, in order to learn about the new Equestria she had found herself in.

Twilight blushed, but kept her defiant look. “I still don’t see what that has to do with—“

Luna rolled her eyes. Twilight was just being difficult to spite her, now. “Describe my sister, in a word, Twilight.”

“She’s…powerful, she’s beautiful, she’s…wise, I mean, she always understands—“

“She does?” Luna laughed, bitterly. “You say that to me? Celestia, perfectly understanding? Never misses anything? Don’t insult me, Twilight. Or perhaps it is easier for you to just accept the legend of Nightmare Moon, where I, the jealous younger sister, am wholly evil and irresponsible? Do you still hold some fear of that in your heart, my dear friend?”

“I suppose you’re right, Twilight,” the marionette of Celestia hissed in its terrible, rasping voice. “You’re not my student, anymore.”

“Shut up!” Twilight snarled at it. The marionette remained motionless, unhearing, its beady glass eyes staring blindly out at nothing.

“It’s easier to believe that you did something wrong, isn’t it.” Luna gave her a sympathetic look, as directly copied from Fluttershy as she could manage. “You’re so used to being corrected by her, after all.”

“What? I—what?” Twilight was drawing in breaths in great gasps, beginning to hyperventilate.

“Twilight…” Luna said, trailing off, looking thoughtful. One of her sister’s old lectures raised a hoof in the gloom of the amphitheater that was the princess’ ancient memory. “Let’s talk about…masks, that ponies wear for each other—“

“Uh…” Pinkie Pie tapped the frozen form of Luna a couple times, hoof bouncing off the little aura of blue light with the same bell-like ring that had pierced the air as her horn had made contact with the unicorn’s forehead. “I hope that’s what’s supposed to happen.”

Everypony looked at Rarity, who regarded their stares incredulously. “I have no idea why you’d think I’d know one way or the other.”

Rarity gave her a glare. “Oh, is that how it is..?” She waved a hoof. “Why don’t we ask Fluttershy about high-speed racing flying, then?”

“I could do some research.” Fluttershy pawed the floor in front of her. “If, um, that would help.”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “It’s more like, let’s ask her about flying,” she said, her wings fluttering irritably. “I mean, can’t you, I dunno, sense if things are OK? I mean, whatever the Princess did to Twilight seemed pretty serious—“

“Uh, everypony…” Spike backed away from Twilight and Luna nervously. Twilight’s horn was lit and building up a charge of magic in a dreadfully familiar way. “This is really important!” Applejack grabbed Pinkie and hauled her into cover.

“No!” Twilight howled. “I don’t want to hear about masks, ever again! It’s not…it’s not…” She cast about, frantically, words failing her. “None of it was true! None of it!”

The world around them shifted and whirled horribly. Even Luna, mistress of dreams, had to brace herself against the lurch of the dreamscape destabilizing rapidly, Twilight’s mind become a riot of pain and self-loathing, horrible images rising and melting away grotesquely, howling and gibbering insanely. Despite having swum through the collective nightmares of ponykind as a matter of routine, despite having lived in Nightmare for a millennium, Luna found herself…distressed.

“Twilight!” Luna called. The ground shifted under her, forcing her to lift off awkwardly with her wings. Her progress was hindered further by...something; it felt like Luna was moving her wings through something viscous and cloying. “Twilight, please, listen to me!”

Luna found herself capable, even in this hellish tempest, of rolling her eyes irritably. Back to square one.

Once again she focused her powers, trying to see through the horrific, mind-bending tumult of the collapsing dreamscape. There was a little nexus, deeper—

She dove, as best she could. Twilight’s defenses were no longer logic traps or image games; she was trying to force Luna out, with thick, slapping waves of repellent mental force, battering Luna as she tried to reach the little heart of thought where Twilight was trying to sequester herself.

Here there was no “ground” or “sky”; Luna was suspended in a chaotic, multihued haze, Twilight’s loss of control reflected in her ability to focus on a meaningful narrative. Occasional nonsense visions swirled around the princess as she drove herself on. Here, a flock of the little bird silhouettes passed her vision, suspended on their little strings; a little group of Rainbow Dashes passed her, snickering at her inability to move faster; books swirled around her, flapping their covers like wings, pages snapping and biting.

Twilight’s horn was still hissing and shooting bright, colorful sparks, illuminating the now-gloomy room in a wavering multihued half-light. The sparks shot high into the air, some burning the ceiling with vicious snarls of smoke, the rest petering out as they fell towards the ground. Applejack wasn’t one to know, but it looked painful.

“Wooo!” Pinkie Pie leapt out of a pile of books, dancing and whirling around happily. “It’s like Twilight knew exactly what we needed to relax!” The pink pony hauled Fluttershy out from under a knocked-over display stand and began swirling the disoriented pegasus around, singing and laughing.

Applejack gave her a resigned sort of smile, and turned to Spike, who was getting to his feet awkwardly. “That happen often?”

“Uh. Not…not from her.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “It’s, um…usually me scorching things in my sleep, these days.”

Rarity rose, shaking her mane elegantly, and favored Spike with a bright smile. “It was very gallant of you to cover me, dear,” she said.

“Teensiest request, for the future though.” She put a hoof on his chest and coughed a few times. Spike immediately fell to one knee, holding her upright. “Try not to land on me quite so hard.”

Rainbow Dash, extracting herself from the railing on the second-floor landing, snickered. Applejack frowned at her and turned back to the gently-sizzling Twilight. The unicorn’s face was drunk with pleasure, slack and stupid.

“What’s goin’ on in there, Twi?” Applejack whispered. “C’mon back to us, sugarcube.”

Floating in the void, a chunk of rock and finished stone floated lazily, a lone island of sanity in the formless sea of Twilight’s mind. It was a section of Twilight’s favorite hallway in the Halls of Dawn at Canterlot, bright crimson stone underfoot and beautiful white pillars forming flaring archways decorated with friezes of ponies building Equestria. She loved it here; it was a history lesson, a work of art, and the best place to watch the sunset in the entire castle. How many times had Twilight, as a filly, hauled a stack of thick books and just sat here reading by the light of the setting sun, under the watchful and amused gaze of a pair of Royal Guards?

—as she always was, and always had been, and always would be. Her coat shimmered. Her mane was bright and beautiful and flowing, not greyed—

—not that it ever had been greyed, of course, because she was perfect in every way.

“You’re my faithful student,” Celestia said. It was like hearing the universe singing to her.

Luna alighted on the flagstones, her hooves making a gentle clip-clop, wings fluttering and whipping weirdly in the non-air of the void. Her eyes were wide with horror—which made no sense, of course. Nothing was wrong. Twilight tried to get a better view of her, but she was having a hard time moving. Something was holding her in place, but somehow, that felt right. And look, the chains were gold! Very shiny. Extremely nice.

Anyways, Luna was coming up to her, so that saved Twilight the trouble of moving to see her.

“What are you…” Luna gazed at her, looking as frightened as Twilight had ever seen her. The dark alicorn looked from Celestia to Twilight several times, looking more and more concerned each time. “What…did…what happened to you, dearer-than-dear to my heart? Oh, Twilight…”

The world throbbed. Agony pervaded everything. Luna stumbled, waving her head, mewling miserably.

“Shouldn’t I? That is my special talent, after all. Isn’t that why you chose me, Princess?” This was addressed to Celestia, who stared down at Twilight lovingly.

Luna was blinking and tossing her head as if she had been struck. “Twilight…you need to tell me what happened to you when my sister…” The princess swallowed, bracing herself. “What happened when Celestia came to you this afternoon? Tell me!”

Twilight watched the magic surrounding the command swirl around her, breaking across her face like waves on a cliffside. She giggled. “Oh, nothing, Princess. We just talked about some silly things, and then Princess Celestia said she had to go!”

“Oh, nothing.” Twilight looked up, as much as the golden chains would let her, at Celestia, who beamed down at her. “Isn’t that right? Nothing that can hurt us.”

But Luna was already prowling around Twilight, her breath ragged and harsh, as if she had seen

Twilight’s eyes and horn were throbbing with eye-aching intensity, filling the Library with harsh pink light. The light wasn’t right; it cast shadows wrong and threw everything into a bizarre high contrast. A high-pitched whine filled the air.

“It’s a bit like this right as the Rainboom starts!” Dash shouted over the noise. “I don’t think it’s supposed to last this long!”

“Oh, ya think?” Applejack’s teeth were aching like mad, and tears were streaming down her face. “What was yer first clue?”

“This is really bad, guys!” Spike shouted. “I think we should get out of here!” Rarity was whimpering in his arms, waving her hooves at her horn as if it were a knife stabbed into her forehead.

“I don’t think we can run far enough,” Fluttershy said, her voice barely audible. She was looking at Twilight ablaze. “We just have to trust Luna.”

Luna fell back into Twilight’s field of vision, rolling on the ground, clutching her head and howling.

“There’s nothing back there I want to talk about,” Twilight said, calm as a clear summer night.

Luna rolled to her hooves, blood trailing from her nose, spilling onto the crimson flagstones in little drops which were quickly absorbed into the stone. “Thou…thou art most fortunate that we hold thee in such esteem, else we wouldst leave thee to destroy thyself as thou saw fit,” she rasped, pain making her head swim.

“I’m not a wretch, Luna. That’s a very unkind thing to say about anypony, especially in the vernacular usage of approximately one thousand years ago. Isn’t that right, Princess?”

“She spoke to thee…” Luna began, heaving great breaths. “She spoke to you about…masks, didn’t she.”

Luna gave a wry grin. “Thou art not the first to hear it. Perhaps the second, though.”

“You are honored,” Luna growled. She was getting back in control of herself. “She was trying to take hers off for you.”

Twilight felt the bindings around her grow tighter. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“No, you don’t.” Luna heaved another great breath, and sat up. Next to the spectacular vision of Celestia, she seemed small and ragged, not a princess at all. A pale, jealous shadow of the magnificent vision of the Sun unbroken.

The universe shivered again. Luna was racked with coughs, blood spilling from her nose and mouth. But her eyes didn’t leave Twilight’s—they were lit with inner power, cold and hard as the very stars in the sky.

“Twilight, you are a wise and intelligent pony. Was Celestia acting rationally?”

This time the magical command leaked into Twilight’s mind, which was no longer allowing itself to be deceived quite so readily. The memory of Celestia’s voice called to her, chilling her to her very core—but it woke up the parts of her she was trying to put to sleep.

The part of Twilight which was always, always watching—that was crushing tea sets in the waking world—spoke. It was Twilight, pure and untrammeled: ever-vigilant, ever-thinking, ever-eager, ever-ready.

I’ve seen that spell before, it said. It’s not really a spell at all, actually. How did Celestia describe it…letting the sun shine. She lets a little of that immortal power show through. Visually and magically impressive. Makes ponies…

Twilight squealed in pain as the bindings constricted. Blood leaked at their edges on her hooves.

“Focus, Twilight!” Luna urged, her voice pained. “Set aside your fear and solve the problem.”

It had been so intense. It had been like being drunk and hopped up on endorphins all at once, but ten times over. Celestia had been out of control. She had been in a hurry. Why?

Luna was watching her carefully, wiping away little trickles of blood from her nose from time to time.

“No, you’re just holding it in your mind. You saw it, you know what the truth is. You know this isn’t, and has never been, the truth.” Luna indicated the beautiful, radiant Celestia before Twilight.

Twilight’s heart fluttered. Half of her ached to just accept this wonderful creature’s praise, forever; the alternative filled her with dread. The dread of uncertainty, the fear that she might never hear those all-too important words again, or that they had been hollow and untrue—

If the pain before had been agony, this was indescribable. Luna howled in misery as the void around them roared with brutal flashes of lightning. Twilight’s anguish was complete and total.

“Is that what you really want?” Luna snapped, her voice thick with emotion and wet with blood. “This…thing, this vision that was planted here? You’ve certainly tended it with care!” Her wings billowed outwards as she raged. “Look at it, Twilight. Really look at it.”

Twilight looked up. The vile mannequin’s beady glass eyes leered down at her horribly. Twilight’s scream of revulsion was stifled by the manacles, and she struggled and pawed at the ground trying to back away.

“Little filly, playing with dolls,” Luna mocked. “The dream of a Celestia that’s never wrong, that is never frightening or absent, a Celestia that won’t hurt you or be displeased with you.” Luna sighed deeply, hacking up some more blood, and looked at Twilight seriously. “A Celestia that cannot love you. Not really.”

Twilight struggled against the chains, terror maddening her. She felt skin tear, blood flow—

“Mmmmph! Mmmmph!” Twilight whined. She tossed her head, the flesh of her neck raw under the choking golden collar.

“It’s so easy to remember being her student, and how she loved you then, I know,” Luna said, thickly. “I know, Twilight. I remember—Twilight, listen!—I remember the time before the Nightmare. Before Discord.” She shook her head. “But that time is over now. I am different. She is different. The world is different. The love we is share different.”

No, we can still have that! I just have to…I have to…I have to prove to her I’m good enough, and she’ll love me again..! She won’t leave me…

“I know you’re scared, Twilight.” Luna paused, heaving grotesquely. “I know you’re scared, as much by what you want as by what you fear could be the case. But you’re strong, Twilight. You can overcome it. You can see the truth. You just have to choose to see it!”

Twilight sobbed, mutely, into the muzzle. It bit down, hard, crushing her teeth together. She moaned in agony.

“Twilight! Twilight!” Luna shouted, swaying and bleeding. The void around them spasmed horribly. “You have to look!”

“Yes you can! You have to decide! Analyze your fear! Control it, don’t let it control you!”

The pain of the shackles, the fear, was unbearable. The jingle of the chains whispered their poison directly into her mind.

“Twilight—just face the fear!” Luna yelped. She was tottering around, barely able to stand for pain.

She couldn’t just face—by which the princess really meant ignore— the whispered terrors. Every last one of those things could very well be true; she didn’t know. Not knowing was why they were so cutting, why they leapt straight to the bone. Things had gone wrong between her and Celestia, after all. But they were all part of a bigger fear.

Something in Twilight knew Luna was mistaken. Celestia hadn’t tried to show Twilight what was behind the mask. It had fallen off in front of her, and Twilight had seen her beautiful, shining idol, her beloved mentor, in pain. In fear. In confusion and desperation.

And now Twilight felt the realization settling in her mind: Celestia had hurt her. Not on purpose, but…it had been the princess’ out-of-control magic that had sent Twilight’s mind deep inside itself—well, something like that, anyways, Twilight wasn’t really sure yet.

Maybe the future held a life without Celestia, one way or the other. Maybe everything was a lie. Twilight felt the terror of not knowing war with the dread of what might be confirmed if she learned the truth in her chest, great armies of illogic and panic clashing in her, making her heart throb and her stomach heave.

Since when, said the voice that was always watching, does Twilight Sparkle satisfy herself with not knowing?

The unicorn’s face set in a grim expression of determination. The truth, be it agony or glory, was what she wanted…and deserved. Once she knew it, she could take the next step towards whatever fate she could make from that point on. Maybe—if things were right—even towards that shining dream she didn’t let herself remember, because it was so precious and ethereal that she suspected even acknowledging it would make it vanish…

Twilight closed her eyes and breathed deeply, the chains no longer binding or cutting. She took all the fear inside herself, accepted it, let herself feel terrified, let the darkest dreams she dared roll through her mind. Around her, the void pulsed and raged in sympathy. Luna, blood now pouring from her face freely, stared in horror, clearly sensing the torment Twilight was willingly inflicting on herself.

And yet, despite the fear…in spite of the fear…to spite the fear…Twilight decided to see the truth.

Moving through the chains as if they were smoke, Twilight turned her battered body and saw, once again, the broken, greying Celestia, wasted and ruined. She had that same exhausted, loving smile on her face, weak but honest, as she gazed up at Twilight.

Luna wandered up to her lamely and gave her a gentle nuzzle, their blood smearing over each other. “It’s about time.”

Spike held it out, but Luna’s magic grabbed it and thrust it before Twilight’s face just as she was noisily sick.

“Ewww!” Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash made disgusted faces. Fluttershy turned slightly green.

“Yeah, saw that comin’,” Applejack said unhappily. “Magic ain’t got nothin’ ta do with it if ya need a bucket that badly.”

“Don’t be too hard on her,” Luna said, slumping into a seat, exhausted. “Sometimes...there are things you just need to get out.”

Eternal

by device heretic

IV. Visions and Phantasms