Canterlot, that same day.
The Sun was just rising in Canterlot the day the discovery was made. The sky was a bright orange on the eastern horizon, with the west still wrapped in the dark blue majesty of Luna’s influence. The peaks of the city’s uppermost castle, the royal residence of her majesty Twilight Sparkle, shone in the light, the gold shingles helping a great deal in doing so.
Twilight stood upon the balcony of the castle’s highest tower, her wings outstretched in a customary sun salutation, one which was necessary to move the great ball of fire through the heavens to bring the day to the western world. She sighed, and loosened her grasp on the sun, letting it drift slowly through the sky with the momentum of the tug she had given it. When it was nearing the western horizon, she would halt it, and wait for Luna to bring the moon up before pushing the solar mass back towards the western side of the planet. Twilight sighed, her muscles loosening after a strenuous effort to complete the ritual. Even after all these years, she still found it surprising how much physical effort, as well as magical, it took to raise the sun up every morning.
Walking inside the tower, Twilight slowly descended the staircase leading down to the throne room. She paused at the door, hesitant to start yet another day of running the kingdom, before opening it and stepping through into the massive, rectangular room.
A tall, slim horse stood waiting for her by the throne. He was a stallion, young and in his prime, with a calmness and surprisingly patient demeanor about him. He turned to twilight, and bowed at her approach.
“Greetings, your highness,” he said, his accent foreign and thick. “Would you care for tea before the day begins?”
“No, thank you,” Twilight replied, sitting on the throne and cracking her neck. “I’m still a bit full from breakfast. And please, Amon, call me Twilight.”
Amon nodded sharply. “Of course,” he said. “Whatever you wish, I will be happy to provide, Twiglit.”
“Oh no, please don’t feel obligated to perform anything like that,” Twilight said, ignoring Amon’s horrible pronunciation of her name. “I want you to be my friend, not my servant. Besides, you’re my cultural adviser. You shouldn’t have to worry about things like that.”
“If this pleases you, I will obey,” Amon said. He stopped for a moment, his strict and obeying expression momentarily fading.
“But this concept,” he continued. “I believe you call it friendship? Yes, this not a common political structure in my homeland. Is it similar to the clan system in Saddle Arabia?”
Twilight smiled, glad that Amon was actually starting a friendly conversation, and not asking how he might serve her.
“It has nothing to do with politics,” she said. “It’s something ponies do together, out of mutual consent, which they both enjoy very much.”
“Ah,” Amon exclaimed, nodding his head excitedly. “So it is an alliance of sorts, yes?”
Twilight chuckled. “Yes,” she said, “It’s something like that.”
There was knock at the door, and a pair of ponies entered the room. Amon quickly regained his strict posture, and Twilight adjusted herself to seem more regal in appearance.
“Greetings your highness,” The pony leading the pair said. She was a white mare, with a plump body and a pink mane. Her voice was high and regal, clearly from the upper area of the city. Her appearance reminded Twilight a great deal of Rarity, which she found to be surprisingly unnerving.
The mare’s companion was a squat Pegasus, with short, stubby legs and an equally short tail. He was clearly the mare’s servant, as his short stature emphasized her own height. Twilight couldn’t help but feel bad for the poor Pegasus; he looked so apprehensive, like the mare might bark an order at him any second.
“Greetings, Vanity,” Twilight said, trying to sound welcoming towards her.
Vanity smiled, though it looked more like a snobbish smirk, and bowed to the Princess.
“I was just coming in a bit early to ask how my husband is doing in his archaeological mission,” she said. “He said it was sin Saddle Arabia, and I’d like to know if he was safe or not. I’d hate to let those dessert savages get to my little pumpkin before he finishes his quest.”
Amon grunted, his nostrils flaring, and for a second Twilight thought she saw an anger she had only seen once before, in the eyes of the buffalo warriors in Appleoosa.
“Astro’s perfectly fine,” She said, interrupting Amon before he could say anything out of hand. “Though I doubt he has anything to fear. The Saddle Arabians are much more welcoming to our people since we made peace with them.”
Vanity rolled her eyes, quickly glancing at Amon in disgust before turning her attention back to Twilight.
“Yes, well, I’m sure that’s true for most of them,” she replied. “But I’m still glad to know my Astro isn’t in any immediate danger, though I’m sure he could handle it. He’s quite the adventurer, you know.”
“Oh, yes, I’ve heard many stories about him,” Twilight said, nodding her head and faking a smile. That wasn’t entirely a lie, either. She had heard plenty of tales about Astro and his exploits. It’s just that they were more often about his extreme arrogance than they were about his bravery.
It was at that moment that Twilight noticed a small pendent hanging from Vanities neck. It was small and gold, made in the shape of a small wand. At the end of the wand, there was a star, with a diamond set onto its surface, causing it to glitter as if it were really a celestial object.
Vanity noticed Twilight staring at the pendant, and grinned with satisfaction.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, stepping into the light of the morning sun. “I got it when I converted to Humbleism. No offense, of course. I do respect you, but I just don’t find Alicorn worship to be quite right for me. Now the Apologetic One, that’s the sort of mare I can worship without question.”
Twilight smiled genuinely now, seeing an opportunity to toy with Vanity a bit.
“Oh, yes, it certainly is beautiful,” she agreed, her eyes glancing over the pendant. “But you certainly know the cost of joining such a humble religion. What with the charity and such…”
Vanity’s smile vanished, replaced with a resentful frown.
“Well, there is that,” she said, her eyes drifting towards the ground. “I have to give away a quarter of my earnings each year to the community, or else I won’t be considered humble enough to join the inner circle. Can you believe that? Five million bits, every year for the next decade until I get to go to their silly mountains and meet the Apologetic One. If it weren’t for the prestige of meeting such an important figure, I’d have certainly declined joining.”
“Oh, yes, I understand,” Twilight said, though in reality she was far from understanding. “You know, I knew the Apologetic One before she became… well, whatever she is now. Quite the character, I must say. Now, if that’s all, I’d really like to be getting back to preparations for today’s work…”
Vanity nodded briskly, and bowed once more for the princess.
“Come now, Trotter,” she said to the Pegasus as she was leaving. With a remorseful glance at the princess, he followed his master out the door, and quickly disappeared behind their closing oaken wall.
Amon now turned to Twilight, a concerned look on his face.
“Does this mare and her religion bother you?” he asked. “I could force her to convert, if that is what you desire…”
“Oh, sweet Celestia, no,” Twilight said. “I actually hate the idea anypony worshipping me. It’s just that I have to tolerate her and her arrogance every day while her husband is off digging in the sand for tribal era artifacts.”
“You don’t wish to be worshipped?” Amon asked, surprised that such a majestic figure could not desire such an honor. “I thought your predecessor would be pleased to be treated as such.”
Twilight flinched at the mention of Celestia, the melancholy feeling she got when remember the past returning to her.
“No, she only appeared to like it,” She replied. “In reality, I only think Luna really enjoys being thought of as a goddess, and that’s only because it’s the only affection she gets most of the time. In truth, I hate being treated like some divine being, just because I have a talent others find awe inspiring. I’m not a goddess, and one day I’ll have to leave, just like Celestia did, and some other pony will take my place and start the cycle all over again.”
Amon nodded, though he still looked a bit confused.
“So, you aren’t upset by this newer, Humble religion?’ he asked.
Twilight laughed, and looked at Amon with fondness. He still had a lot to learn about reading ponies.
“I never said that,” she said. “Sure, I’m not opposed to it, but I am a little concerned. The idea of ponies worshipping anypony makes me uneasy, and when it come s to her, I’m really-“
It was at that moment that a bright, white light filled the room, like moonlight intensified a thousand times. Amon cried out in shock as he closed his eyes to block out the light, and Twilight used a spell to shield her own eyes. A light voice echoed out from the light, ringing out like a soft bell chime.
“Celestia?” it called out almost inquisitively, as if it could not see clearly. “Celestia, is that you? I’ve waited so long, dear, so long…”
The voice paused abruptly, and the air temperature seemed to drop substantially.
“Oh,” it continued, its voice much less friendly than it had been before. “You aren’t Celestia. Tell me now, where is the Sun Mother? I desired to make my return known to her first, but second in line is still good.”
“Who in Tartarus are YOU?” Twilight asked the light, emphasizing the last word with the royal Canterlot voice.
The cold air of the room now darkened, the light streaming through the windows fading until they were but slivers of orange light. The voice spoke again, deeper and more menacing before, a clear contrast to the light, high pitched melody that had spoken before.
“AND WHO ARE YOU,” it shouted, “TO SPEAK TO YOUR MOTHER IN SUCH A MANNER? YOU, WHO STAND TINY AND SMALL WHILST I STRADDLE THE HEAVENS AND GNAW AT THE WORLD?”
There was a brief moment of silence before the voice giggled, once more returning to the light giggle it had taken on before.
“See?” it continued, the air once more become warm and light. “I can play that game too! Now, please tell me where Celestia is. I so do wish to meet my firstborn daughter again after sleeping for oh so long…”
Twilight was silent. She had no idea what to tell the light. Whatever hid in its glimmering depths was of immense power, and she knew not what it would do if it heard the truth. The truth might be too upsetting for it, and yet lying might make it even more upset.
A voice cried out inside Twilight, a soft memory from days long ago.
You represent us now, sugar cube, it said inside her. Do what we would do, what the elements would do, and you’ll turn out fine.
Listening to the shade in her heart, Twilight answered honestly and with conviction.
“Celestia… is dead” she said, her muscles clenching in preparation for however the light might react. “She left this world a long time ago to refuel the sun, as all Equestrian Royalty must do when the time comes. I’m afraid it’s too late to speak with her.”
The light was silent for a moment. A strange air of mourning and recognition filled the room, as if the emotions the light felt were being emitted to everything around it. Amon himself sniffled quietly, trying to remain stoic and strong.
“I see,” The light said. “What a shame. But that is the nature of things. They are born, they live, and they die, paving the way for something better. At least Luna will be present for the new dawn.”
The light dimmed a bit, and the figure of something resembling an alicorn became slightly visible, though not entirely.
“Am I correct to assume, then, that you are the new Queen Regent?” It continued.
“It’s princess, actually,” Twilight said, “But yes, I’m the ruler of Equestria, though Cadence technically rules with me.”
“Wonderful!” the light exclaimed. “Then I feel it’s my duty to introduce myself. I am Faust, though that is merely a title I received quite some time ago. Perhaps you have heard of me?”
Twilight's eyes widened. Surely this creature must be joking. Faust was just religious figure, a barely mentioned deity who even Celestia rarely spoke of during her life. Twilight had only read a few books going into any real detail on the deity, and even those books mentioned only a few defining features, naming Faust as the creator of all things.
“I, uh, w- welcome you, Faust,” Twilight said. “Now, I’m just wondering, um, When you say you’re Faust, do you man to say that you’re the Faust, or rather just named after her.”
The Light laughed, and unnerving mix of both a light hearted giggle and a menacing cackle uttered by some infernal beast.
“Oh, child,” it said, still giggling. “Of course I’m THE Faust. Is there any other? No, seriously, is somepony running around using my name, because I’ll have to deal with that personally before I get to work.”
Twilight coughed, clearing her throat. If this thing was actually Faust, she really wouldn’t want to piss it off. On the other hand, if it was just some spirit masquerading as the creator deity, it might be best to interrogate it to find out its motives.
“Oh, don’t worry, Faust,” Twilight reassured the light. “No pony would dare pretend to be you. But what, might I ask, is your purpose here. You mentioned some kind of work?”
“Ah, yes, I was just getting to that,” Faust said. “You see, I’ve been sleeping for quite some time, resting up after ‘editing’ my previous draft of paradise. Needless to say, I was quite pleased with the updates I’ve given this world. You’re all SO much better than my last creation. However, it’s not quite right just yet. It seems the evil in this world is a bit more potent than I imagined it would be. It must be an effect of making everything in this world so damn intelligent. Anyway, I can’t stand by and watch my little ponies suffer while evil is capable of growing in the existence, so I’m going to have to remake everything again, a bit more enthusiastically than last time.”
“Um, I’m sorry,” Twilight said, furrowing her brow in concern. “What did you mean by ‘remaking’ things.”
“Oh my,” Faust chuckled. “I guess I didn’t make everything that intelligent after all. You see, dear, it’s like making a sculpture, or a sand castle. You can work as hard as you like on it, but if there’s even one flaw, the whole things is ruined. And you can’t just try and fix the problem itself, because that’ll just disrupt the structure of the whole thing. What you really need to do is tear the whole thing down, and start again from scratch. Do you understand now?”
Twilight was extremely nervous at this point. “I, um… I think I understand, but if you could just…”
“By god, girl” Faust said, the deep voice becoming more emphasized. “I’m going to destroy the world, ok? Could I make it any clearer than that? Jesus, you’d think that after a while you might get the i-”
Faust was interrupted by a bolt of purple light, firing at full velocity from Twilight’s horn. It passed through the light, shattering the image of the alicorn into a billion shards of light, and blowing a chunk of marble off of the wall behind it.
“Sorry you had to see that,” Twilight said to Amon. “I’d normally just bind the spirit with magic, but I don’t think even that spell I just cast worked on her.”
The room suddenly filled with Faust’s soft giggling, witch raised in volume and lowered in pitch until it was a menacing howl of amusement.
“Right you are!” Faust cackled. “That really didn’t do anything of use. I’m afraid that image was just a conduit, not even a full blown avatar. I’m actually still travelling to your little planet, so you’ll have to wait to get a full blown taste of my real power. Still, I guess it isn’t much of a spoiler to give you a little appetizer of what’s to come. Here, let me show you how I’ll start redecorating this world of yours. First, I’ll choose the city with the highest crime rate in the country.”
A hologram appeared in the center of the room, showing a map of the entire planet. It zoomed in on Equestria before zooming in once more on a detailed, birds eye view of Detrot.
“Oh my god,” Twilight exclaimed, and turned to Amon. “Get the guards, now. Tell them to warn Detrot city before it’s-”
“Too late!” Faust cried out, laughing as she did so. “So sorry dear, but I’m quite fast in my work. Now, let’s see. Ah yes, step two, my personal favorite. Nothing too extravagant, nor subtle. I just set everything on fire and blow it all up!”
There was no boom, as the hologram made no sound, but Twilight could hear the sound in her head as the city lit up in a huge ball of fire. Twilight gasped, and staggered forwards, too shocked to say anything.
“Oh, don’t act like that,” Faust said. “We still have to get to step three: Conversion! Now, let’s see, what’s the body count I’ve made? OOH, Seven thousand? Not exactly the highest number I’ve ever gotten, but it’s good enough. Now, I’ll just use a little black magic, and…”
The hologram zoomed in once more, focusing in on the mangled corpses of several ponies, surrounded by screaming and running civilians. Slowly, a unicorn with half her body blown off began to twitch and convulse. The patches of burnt flesh began to grow back, this time scaly and black. The blown off portion of the pony, too, began to grow back, but now it resembled the mangled hind legs of some reptilian beast. The neck of the unicorn grew longer than it should have been, and the once stubby horn how grew into a long, black spear. The newly formed abomination stood up, it’s red eyes surveying the carnage as the rest of the corpses began to undergo the same process.
“And BOOM, they become the perfect little soldiers.” Faust exclaimed as the reptilian beasts began to howl and chase after the surviving ponies, impaling them with their horns and beating them with their massive wings and talon covered feet.
Faust spoke again, her voice weary and exhausted. “My, my,” she said. “That really took a lot out of me. I’ll have to slow my approach just to regain the energy I just spent. Damn. Well, no matter. My little soldiers will convert more ponies and destroy more cities while I regain my strength. So don’t worry, Princess, you’ll have a lot to look forwards to before I get here with the my armies to get the REAL party started. Until then, I bid you farewell. I’m exhausted, and I think I might have to eat a few planets before I get moving again. See ya!”
With that, the voice stopped. The air in the room grew light and warm, and the progress of time seemed to speed up back to its normal pace.
Amon and Twilight remained still. They didn’t say anything; they couldn’t. There was nothing to say that wasn’t conveyed by their shocked silence. It was a silence that spoke louder than words, and heralded the coming of death.