//------------------------------// // Burning Moon Rise // Story: Remembering to See // by IsabellaAmoreSirenix //------------------------------// When morning arrived, Celestia awoke to three things: a pounding headache, a broken teapot, and an oddly anxious Rose Petal. “Are you sure you’re alright, Rose?” she asked for the sixth time as she watched her chambermaid sweep up the jagged pieces of china, remnants of the teapot she had dropped. “Oh, I’m just fine, princess,” Rose Petal answered with a smile that was just a little too stretched and strained, and eyes that were just a little too wide and bulging. “I just would like to know if you’re alright; yup, that’s it!” In vigorous sincerity, her head kept bouncing up and down like a never-ending bobble head, and more than once, Celestia could have sworn she saw Rose’s eye twitch. The princess was about to question her again, but when the image of her personal maid looking down at her with crazed eyes as she hovered just inches above her face with a teapot and a nearly deranged grin resurfaced to her mind, she thought better of it. “I am well, thank you,” she replied elegantly as she reclined at her vanity to let Rose Petal comb her hair. “Are you well rested?” she demanded, fighting to keep her voice even, her anxiety only showing through the particularly forceful yanks of the brush. “How did you sleep last night?” Even through the tears of pain in her eyes, Celestia managed a small smile. “Actually, quite well, now that I think about it. I… I don’t know why, but it feels like some great weight was lifted from me while I slept. Like there was a certain tension that’s just been let go. I haven’t felt this relaxed in longer than I can remember. I suppose that’s the magic of a good night’s sleep, right?” At that, all of Rose Petal’s tense muscles melted into jelly. “That’s wonderful to hear, princess,” she said, this time with a truly genuine smile. “Yes, I know,” Celestia agreed. “Perhaps it’s because Luna isn’t hear to come in the middle of the night with her insufferable wailings and lamentations.” There was a screeching halt in Rose Petal’s brush strokes as she sat, mouth agape, in shock of Celestia’s words, before shaking herself to her senses. Of course, she was like this before the Lunar Rebellion, wasn’t she? Rose Petal reminded herself. I suppose I’d better get used to hearing it. “And now I’m left to deal with the aftermath of this ‘Nightmare Moon’ character, while Luna gets to take a vacation in the Griffin Kingdom? That’s just like her; it’s so unfair.” A hideous scowl marred her features before she remembered herself, and smiled serenely. “But it would be shameful of me to let my little sister of all ponies trouble me, now wouldn’t it?” she declared, rising from her vanity. “Let Luna languish among those horrid creatures, for the sun reigns in Equestria! A new beginning, a new day awaits!” Celestia’s eyes fell upon the tightly drawn curtains. “Speaking of day…” she mumbled to herself, making her way over to the Solar Balcony. Rose Petal’s heart dropped as she saw the moonlight peek beneath the curtains. “No!” she screamed, racing across the room just as Celestia threw them wide to expose her sight fully to the round, gleaming moon above. Celestia turned around, her eyes wide in surprise, but more so, in irritation. “What is the matter with you today, Rose?” she chastised with a disparaging click of the tongue. “But…” Rose Petal looked up into the sky, where the image of the Mare in the Moon was branded on the moon’s pearly surface. Then her eyes transitioned to Celestia’s, also gazing up at the very same moon, although perhaps that wasn’t quite true. Rose Petal watched as Celestia’s eyes suddenly glazed over, skipping over the marred half of the moon to focus entirely on the unblemished half, with the fervent belief it consisted of the whole. Ah, so that’s how it works, Rose Petal thought, making a mental note to ask Starswirl for further details. “Uh… forgive me, princess,” she hastily amended, performing a light curtsy. “I was merely concerned for your safety. After all, your guards have not arrived yet.” Celestia scoffed. “As if I needed them anyway,” she ridiculed, with her chest puffed out in pride. “Perhaps Luna might require them, but I on the other hoof am perfectly capable of raising the sun unattended.” Taking the hint, Rose Petal began tidying up the inner chambers, leaving the princess to her celestial task. She always wanted me near her when she raised the sun, the mare brooded, trying to occupy her mind with opening the windows and meeting with little success. Well, for the past three weeks anyway. Before then, she used to always greet me with polite little hellos and goodbyes, nothing else. I suppose I never realized how close we were after what happened with Princess Luna. Rose Petal let her eyes trace over the healing rays of yellow and orange that were just beginning to shine over Canterlot. But nevermind that. Equestria is safe, and the princess is happy, so I suppose that’s all that matters. Yes, that’s all that matters. All that can ever matter. Then the peaceful moment was shattered by a horrible scream from Celestia’s bedroom. The fastest gazelles in Zebrica wouldn’t have stood a chance against Rose Petal as she galloped at top speed towards the sound, the fear in her heart sending adrenaline spiking through her as she began to imagine the worst-case scenarios. Had the potion hurt her somehow? Did she throw herself off the balcony like she always tried to, even while not remembering why? Had somepony broken in and attacked her, or worse? Rose Petal found Celestia leaning on the balcony rail and holding her hooves to her temple, with her eyes shut tight in pain. At once, Rose Petal took her hoof and carefully guided her away from the balcony and into the cool, dark corner of her chamber. “Princess, what’s happening?” Rose Petal cried, gripping her shoulders in panic. “Can you hear me? Celestia, please!” After a few deep breaths, the moans of pain slowly subsided, and Celestia opened her eyes. Her hard, calculating gaze roamed all over Rose Petal, not so much in affirmation, but… scrutiny? “I… I’m fine,” she said in a strange tone, her eyes still sneaking odd glances at Rose Petal. “It was just a headache, that’s all. It sometimes happens when magic is channeled incorrectly. Don’t worry, I’m alright.” While not entirely at ease, her muscles did relax somewhat at the princess’ assurances. “Well, that’s a relief,” Rose Petal said, with a look that was not quite a smile. “Do you need anything, a glass of water perhaps?” “No, no, that’s quite alright,” Celestia answered, levitating her crown to her head. Her former cheerfulness forgotten, she regarded her maid with the iciest of looks. “I’ll be heading down to the dining hall now anyway. Good day, Rose.” So Celestia left Rose Petal there, staring at the door long after it had closed, with worry spinning in her mind and a far less pleasant emotion squirming in her heart. Morning broke, but Canterlot did not break with it. Despite the prevading sunshine, the whole city clung to the silence of night as they bunkered down in the safety of their homes. It was a strange inversion of the situation that birthed Nightmare Moon, one that was tragically poetic at best and cruelly sardonic at worst. How quickly poníes' hearts could be dissuaded, how rapidly hope changed to fear, though one could only find it fitting retribution. Or perhaps the citizens of Canterlot were simply tired of being broken. Perhaps this was the only way they could hold themselves together. Whatever the reason, the city remained eerily desolate as Iron Strike ran through the deserted alleyways. The wind blew erratically as he jostled it, yet he remained unfazed. His hoofsteps were swift, but his heart remained steady and calm. He was not running out of fear. He could think of things like that later. Running was all that was important. If he did not know where he was going, his hooves would find purpose. He imagined the thundering hoofsteps of a pursuer, but his resolve still remained steadfast, knowing that he could always outrun any problem or adversary. He had never lived believing anything otherwise. Over the puddles, under the archways, around the empty market stalls, he swerved through the maze of Canterlot until finally deeming his body far away enough from his mind, he skidded into a gloomy backalley to hide from the sun. After a furtive glance at the murky shadows to confirm his solitude, Iron fell slouched against the wall, and not even pausing to catch his breath, began banging the back of his head against the bricks. Not terribly hard, of course; just enough to get himself to stop thinking. And it worked. The slow, rhythmic throb of pain soon put him at ease, reminding him of the familiarity of home. His mind drifted off into soothing recollections of the hammer striking burning iron, smoothing out imperfection; the crackling of the forge's fire, melting away tears; the peaceful silence, only to be broken by... "Papa, I would rather die than stay and slave away here, and thou know it! I have loved you enough to stay with you for this long. If thou truly love me, let me go to Everfree City!" Iron Strike choked on a gasp as the fleeting memory jolted him back to reality. He pressed his hooves to his chest as a feeling akin to being stabbed tore through his flesh, tearing a gaping hole. Unbidden, one, then two, then a thousand tears trickled down his face. How curious a phenomenon it was, that the heart should bleed through the eyes. Even though he had heard the sound of hoofsteps long before, he looked up only when he saw out the corner of his eye the flash of sunlight striking gold. His tempered golden eyes begrudgingly rose past the twin metal to lock with the clear blue eyes of the Canterlot guard standing before him. He searched for any storms beyond those two tranquil waters, and finding only uncertainty and pity, he scoffed. Did this guard find him weak? For a single moment of silence, his gaze hardened as he tried to boil the water into a submissive grey mist; when that was proven useless, he irritably snapped, "Are you going to arrest me or what?" A brief look of hurt rippled on the guard's face, but he brushed it aside, saying in a surprisingly soft-spoken tone, "No, or at least, I don't think I will. I was just out on patrol, saw you all by yourself, and wondered if you needed help." Iron gave one sharp laugh. "You wouldn't be wondering that if you knew who I was." "Oh, I know who you are. You're Iron Strike, one of the ponies leading the riots against Princess Celestia," the guard said matter-of-factly, wearing the uncertain yet chipper smile of a tourist guide. "Well bravo for you. I'd give you a medal, but I'm afraid I don't know your name." "Oh, right! I'm Rapier, a captain of the royal guard." "Well then, Captain, you don't sound like much of a captain to me," he commented, not budging from his place on the ground or showing any other sign of respect. Rapier only smiled kindly. "Being a captain is more than just sounding like you ate gravel for breakfast. My soldiers know my abilities and respect me for them; that's all that's really needed." "And apparently one of those abilities is fraternizing with the enemy." Rapier's mouth opened into a slight O. "I don't believe you're an enemy," he said with striking sincerity. "Sure, you're a protester against the state, but Princess Celestia hasn't ordered your capture yet, so I see no need for animosity." Iron snorted. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean you have to do... whatever the hell you think you're doing. Talking, smiling--" "Being friendly? Don't worry about that; I don't think you'd let me be your friend if I tried." "Then mind skipping the small talk and telling me what you want with me?" "As a matter of fact, I've been using this small talk to figure out exactly why I want to talk to you. And I suppose the reason why is that... I'm just intrigued by you," he admitted, shuffling his hooves nervously. "Yes, hurting the feelings of your precious princess can have that effect." "Yes, you have hurt her, more than I think you'll let yourself realize," Rapier said seriously in what was probably the closest his voice got to anger. "But what I mean to say is that... you're different from the others. You want to hurt her, but not out of fear or desire for political power. It's personal, I've confirmed that now, though I knew it before I saw you cry." At that, Iron Strike started vigorously rubbing away the tear streaks, giving Rapier the opening to say, "You don't have to put on that act here. I already know you're strong without you biting my head off with insults." A retaliation formed in his mind, but realizing that it would only prove his point, he instead opted for, "Why should you care what my motives are?" "Because... well..." Rapier bent his head in shame. His eyes traced the cracks between the cobblestones as he searched for the right words. "Part of me agrees with you. I've heard the story about your daughter, and I'm very sorry for it. But I can also perfectly understand your hatred. I... I would probably be doing just the same thing. Out of all the different types of ponies rebelling, you represent the group that seems justified in your actions. And that... well, it scares me, truthfully. It makes me wonder if I'm doing the right thing by fighting you. "And yet you... you weren't at the riots yesterday. You're conflicted too, I can tell. The reason I came to you for answers is because I can see myself in that, see myself in you." Iron idly kicked a pebble, refusing to look up at him. "Aren't you supposed to be the kind, noble guard that saves the day, like all the fairytales say? Aren't you supposed to be loyal only to your princess? That sounds pretty backwards from my life, so excuse me if I don't buy that for a second." "I stopped believing in fairytales a long time ago," Rapier replied solemnly, "so I can see that you're being loyal to her, even when you say you've turned away from her." "How?" It was such a simple question, but it was the first word he ever said without hostility, only curiosity, the innate curiosity of the world he never let himself have back home an eternity and three weeks ago. "You're upholding her core values," Rapier said, looking him straight in the eye. "Love. Duty. Protection. It's written in your eyes. I'd say you're loyal in a lot of ways, even when you're wavering, even when you don't know which side to choose, because your heart's already decided." Iron neither confirmed or denied his loyalty, but at the word 'side,' his softened expression darkened into a scowl. "Don't talk to me about sides," he ordered. "I already know what side I'm on." "Hmm, I doubt you speak that way to Lady Starlight," Rapier said as he moved out of the sunlight and leaned on the alley wall opposite to Iron. Affronted, Iron's fur bristled at the name. "My choices have nothing to do with her." "If they didn't, then you wouldn't have this much trouble with leaving her." "I'm staying because of my daughter. You know that." "Even when you know this isn't what she would have wanted." Iron stood up so they were both at eye level with the other. "You want to make me feel guilty for what I've done? Well too bad, because I don't go back on my decisions like that. I was angry, and being angry felt like the right thing to be. I needed to do something with that anger, and I have. Now, I'm tired of being angry with myself. I want to remember what it was like to love her instead, even when that love led to what should have been my biggest mistake but actually was my greatest gift." He paused, checking himself, before adding in a quiet voice, "That sounds like a fairytale, doesn't it? Well, she was a smart girl, and she believed in those types of things. Maybe she won't think too badly of me for doing the same." Rapier smiled, a quiet and gentle smile. Iron answered with a shrewd, calculating look. "If this is some ploy you think will make me change sides, you're sadly mistaken. I'm not so shallow as to act purely out of emotion. I know perfectly well where my loyalties lie." And with that, he walked away from the sunlight and down into the alleyway, until he disappeared. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of having you change sides," he laughed to himself, smiling up at the golden sun. "You just can't see it yet." “I’m concerned for her.” “That’s good,” Starswirl replied, rolling a scroll shut as he rose from his chair. His eyes were a misty grey, a storm rolling over the horizon, piercing Rose Petal with frightening seriousness. “You should be.” “Was that headache normal?” Rose Petal demanded. “It couldn’t have been, couldn’t have! What if something went wrong, what if her mind’s been damaged somehow, what if—“ “I won’t deny the possibility that any of your fears could be valid,” the Grand Mage interrupted, “and for any one of your qualms, I can list an additional twenty more, so let’s spare us both the hysteria for now. Take a seat please, before you wear a circle in my floor.” Glancing ashamedly at the indentations from her hooves, Rose Petal lowered herself onto the velvet cushion, where she took a series of slow, calming breaths before looking up at Starswirl expectantly. “For now, all we can do is take this episode at face value, nothing more,” he began. “Although we should remain on the lookout for recurrences, what you saw this morning was most likely her brain trying to further process the new magical illusions the potion gave her.” “You’re being optimistic,” Rose Petal noticed warily. “That worries me.” Starswirl let out a short, gruff bark of a laugh. “Perhaps I’m merely taking a leaf out of your book.” “Which worries me even more.” “Oh don’t worry, I’ve already concocted a series of worst possible scenarios, including but not limited to complete insanity, obliterating amnesia, demonic possessing from Tartarus, and the occasional migraine, though I’m not going to trouble you with any of that,” Starswirl deadpanned. “You knew the risks when you made the decision to do it.” “Yes, I know,” Rose Petal mumbled, refusing to meet Starswirl’s eyes. The Grand Mage picked up on the detail instantly. “This is about more than a simple headache, isn’t it?” he questioned, softening his face into a slightly more sympathetic expression. “Rose Petal, you don’t need excuses to come talk to me. If I didn’t want you to come, you’d just kick down the door anyway.” “I… I just can’t help but wonder if I made the right decision,” Rose Petal admitted. “Oh? Is that all?” Starswirl asked with a shrug, at least before he melted into a sober tone under Rose Petal’s burning gaze. “You always have to believe you made the right decision,” he said, now deadly serious. “Even if you know you didn’t, even if everypony else in the whole world knows you didn’t, you have to think that way, because you can’t go back. Even if you keep stumbling, falling, messing up and making the wrong choices, you have to believe you can eventually find those two wrongs that make a right. That’s the only thing you can do.” “Yes, because that’s very encouraging,” Rose Petal retorted, sarcasm dripping like acid. “What else am I supposed to tell you? That everything will be alright? It probably won’t, you know. Acts of desperation rarely are.” “And if it fails, it will be all my fault,” Rose Petal finished. “Yes, it will,” Starswirl answered simply. Turning away, Rose Petal placed a single hoof on the cold windowsill of the drafty tower and looked out to the ruddy light of the rising sun. So many ponies down below relished that sun, needed its energy more than blood and breath, and consequently needed Celestia, the one who raised it to life. Only now, it did not feel like Celestia was raising it, but her, with every second spent in the anxiety of keeping it in the sky through an eternal balancing act. The heavenly power teetered and wobbled beneath her inept, mortal body, knowing all the while that one wrong move could send the whole world tumbling into darkness. Rose Petal shuddered. Failure was not an option. “Then help me ensure I won’t fail,” she commanded. “Start by telling me what Princess Celestia thinks she knows about the past three weeks.” “All her memories of the Lunar Rebellion, including Princess’ Luna’s descent into madness, her own use of the Elements of Harmony, and her sister’s banishment to the moon, have been completely eradicated,” Starswirl began. “Now, she believes Princess Luna is on a diplomatic mission to the Griffon Kingdom to fix, among other matters, trading routes disrupted by the turmoil in Equestria. As for the Lunar Rebellion itself, Celestia believes it was caused by an unknown alicorn from a foreign land who tried to usurp the throne by impersonating Princess Luna in order to gain control of the Lunar Guard. This alicorn, who went by the alibi Nightmare Moon, was later murdered by the Royal Sisters, with her body sealed away in the depths of the Everfree Forest. All her other memories were slightly modified to compensate for the change.” “And that will hold up?” Rose Petal asked. “I’ve designed it to be rather airtight considering its ludicrousness,” Starswirl said. “Since the princess believes there to be a rumor about Princess Luna actually being Nightmare Moon, that can clean up any loose ends. I’ve also placed an enchantment, one that will grow stronger as time passes and Princess Luna does not return, on her hearing and vision to simply skip over anything irrational that does not comply with her delusion, whether it be an image, portrait, or mere mention of Princess Luna's name.” “Wait, but I’ve mentioned her name,” Rose Petal realized, her eyes wide in fear. “She talked to me about Princess Luna being in the Griffon Kingdom.” “Yes, as the spell caster and consequently the only pony who can break the spell, you are impervious to the spell’s effects,” the Grand Mage explained patiently. “Although, you ought to not mention Princess Luna unless absolutely necessary, if we want this to be a success. If we are lucky, perhaps we can delude her into believing her sister was a figment of her mind.” Rose Petal recoiled in shock. “What? We can’t do that!” “Why not?” Starswirl asked, idly twirling a quill with his magic. “It’s not much different from what you decided to do.” “So you’re saying I made the wrong decision then?” Rose Petal said, growing defensive. “I already told you, I haven’t the slightest idea,” Starswirl replied indifferently. “If I did, I’d probably be drinking right about now. The salvation or death of a civilization is a commemorative event, you know.” “Will you stop acting like that already?!” Rose Petal shouted, stomping her front hooves on the ground in anger. Starswirl’s eyes widened at her outburst. “Like what?” he asked, this time with genuine inquisitiveness. “Like nothing ever hurts you, like you never care about anything!” the mare cried. “Because I know you did, Starswirl! You cared about Princess Luna, and you cared about Starlight Willow, or at least you did once. Don’t you realize how much they mattered to you? Are they the reason why you can’t show that you’re scared? You can’t keep doing this, always running and avoiding and hiding from Celestia, when the real pony you can’t face is yourself. Act like you actually care about her, because they certainly did! You… you think they’d be proud of how you’ve handled their deaths? Because they are dead, Starswirl, dead! And if I messed up, we could end up even worse than that! But for Faust’s sake, you haven’t even cried about them! They’re cold and dead and gone, and my God, why aren’t you crying…?” But only Rose Petal cried, a painful, bitter crying, while Starswirl only looked on, impassive. After a few seconds of silence and sniffles, Rose Petal wiped away tears from her red-rimmed eyes and looked up at Starswirl. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered, breathy and shaky. “That was tactless, wasn’t it?” “Yes,” Starswirl agreed, anger slowly building, ready to crash against a wall. “Yes, it was.” Looking down at her hooves, she added, “But I don’t regret it.” “I know you don’t.” Starswirl looked at Rose Petal with cold, hardened eyes. “I think you should leave, Miss Petal.” It wasn’t authoritative or fragile. It was an emotionless truth, just like its owner. “I’m sorry—“ “Rose. Please,” he ordered, while staring determinedly at an empty space inches above her head. Anywhere was better than at those bright green eyes. They’d know the truth. She’d know. She already did. The sound of her first name sent shivers rippling down Rose’s spine, shivers that sent her numbly walking, out the door, out the tower, out into the open air atop the hill, and even there she heard the words ringing in her head, as clearly as if they’d been recorded into her heart they day she’d been born. “You… you think they’d be proud of how you’ve handled their deaths?” The proof of her hypocrisy lay as a dead weight in her left pocket, filled with a secret and a heavy conscience. No, she decided. He wouldn’t. Like waves crashing on the shore, gold struck the unrelenting marble with the force of earthquakes, sending shockwaves of anger reverberating off the walls of the hallway, as if Celestia’s hooves were beating the floors into submission. Her magenta eyes were hardened obsidian, devoid of all the sun’s benevolent warmth. Solar flares burned in them like coals as the sunlight wrapped around its mistress, setting her ablaze in harsh fire. And yet Celestia paid no heed to any of this; rather, her eyes narrowed into angry slits as she was doing what was arguably the sun’s greatest forte. Fuming. How dare she, the spiteful goddess thought to herself. How dare she presume my weakness; how dare she try to show superiority to me? As if I need her help, as if that pathetic excuse of a mortal could make decisions for me! And the,n how dare she refer to me without my title, like some worthless commoner! Does she not know who I am? I am powerful, I am beautiful, I am eternal, I am radiant as the sun, I am—! “Princess Celestia, Your Majesty!” At the sound of her name, Celestia turned to see Apple Harvest trotting down the hall to meet her. “Forgive me, princess,” he began, sweeping into a low bow, “but there’s an issue that’s come up about the press conference. I regret to inform you that due to some sort of miscommunication, only four members of the Royal Guard are stationed in the grand hall, and all are unarmed, claiming to be purely ceremonial.” “Yes, on my orders,” Celestia replied testily. With a sharp jerk of the head, she motioned for Apple Harvest to walk with her. “But princess, your safety!” her advisor protested. “With the number of rioters outside the castle yesterday, who knows how many of them will turn up today, with intentions as violent as ever? They could come armed, try to hurt you—“ “And you believe I am unable to defend myself if they do?” Celestia demanded, the abated ire from before threatening to rise again. “I, who conquered the king of shadows and vanquished the god of chaos, inept at brushing aside a few barbaric protestors? You disappoint me, Harvest; I thought I had chosen advisors with more reason than that.” Apple Harvest was taken aback, but eventually he lowered his head. “My humble apologies, princess.” “And besides,” she went on, “assembling a small army would only further suggest both cowardice and hostility. If I am to gain their support, I must first gain their trust, not further provoke violence.” “Words of wisdom, to be sure,” Apple Harvest approved, significantly more at ease. “And I assume there will be no short supply of those today. Hopefully this will put the whole tiresome affair to rest.” “Yes, I hope so as well,” Celestia agreed. “It’s a sad event, certainly, but one that has long overstayed its visit. Yes, best for it to be forgotten; it’s all in the past now, isn’t it?” Something in Celestia’s casual tone, so contradictory to her disposition of yesterday, struck a chord of worry in Apple Harvest. Now that he noticed it, the change was almost jarring. The proudly raised head, the well-rested eyes, the carefree ambiance; it was like looking at a different pony entirely. “Princess?” Apple Harvest began, choosing his words carefully. “How… how do you feel about… about what’s happened? Is there something bothering you?” Celestia only gave him a cold, affronted expression. “I do believe my personal affairs are of no business to you,” she said, shutting down all outward displays of emotion, and leaving nothing but an aloof, haughty pony encased in unmoving glass. “Of course, Your Highness,” came the mumble. Apple Harvest hung his head in submission, and the two stayed in frozen silence for the short remainder of their walk to the main hall. Upon reaching the side entrance, he peeled away from her to disappear into the aisle of nobleponies as quietly as a ghost on the wind, leaving Celestia to stand alone. Then there was the sound of trumpets playing fanfare, followed by a page announcing in his firm, resonating voice, “Presenting the Mistress of the Dawn, the Bringer of Day on High, She of the Eternally Rising Sun, Her Grand Royal Highness, Princess Celestia of Equestria.” Now that’s a proper address, Celestia thought smugly as she stepped out of the doorway and into the light. At once, she felt the blinding spotlight of a million eyes obsessively fixated on her, but unlike before, she found no discomfort in it. Rather, she relished every moment, letting them drink in their fill of her as she ever so slowly descended the staircase. Her steps were as graceful as a dancer’s, her expression serene as the bluest sky. With horn of ebony and wings of snow, with hair of dawn and piercing eyes of dusk, she stood before her ponies as the pinnacle of flawlessness. There was no doubt, no hesitation, no weakness to mar her. She was perfect. And she wanted everypony to know it. All the chattering and buzzing like flies had halted the instant the princess took center stage. Now, hopefully or skeptically or bitterly, every pony in that room waited in total silence, waiting for her to begin. “Citizens of Equestria,” she began. Yes, that was how it started, right? Celestia knew she had rehearsed this entire speech by heart the night before, but now it seemed distant, hazy, unimportant. Greatness could not be planned, and so neither would she. “It is painfully apparent the occasion upon which we find ourselves gathered here, so We shan’t waste your time or Ours with a prelude. Just as there could be no introduction to the horrors of she dubbed Nightmare Moon, so too can there not be one for the sad, sad reason before us today.” Lifting her eyes, Celestia looked out to the crowd of ponies. So valiant, so bold, yet so blind, every one of them, all lead astray by lies and delusions, but most of all, by fear. She could see it in their hearts, cowering behind eyes of fire, ready to fight. Cowardice clothed in courage; it was sickening. She would not stand for it. Even if it destroyed her, she would teach them to the meaning of fear. “There have been rumors, awful, horrible rumors, regarding Nightmare Moon and Us. Of whether or not it is possible that We could succumb to the same curse, fall prey to the darkness that drove Nightmare Moon to insanity. Your concern is not unfounded. Considering what little is understood about the alicorn race, it is right, even wise, to be wary. “However, it is on no account an excuse to give up all reason in favor of blind fear. That is idiocy in its purest form. We do not rule a nation of idiots, nor do We indulge in violent savagery. By coming here as civilized ponies, you have proved yourselves to be neither, and for that, you are lauded above your peers. You have shown that Equestria does and will forever consist of intelligent ponies searching for answers.” By this point, everypony was hopelessly captivated by Celestia’s every word. Her hushed tones were like a fishing line, reeling them in ever closer. There was no podium separating them; there was no point in it. She stood tall and proud on her own, the brightly shining sun all other ponies gravitated towards, forever ensnared. “However, for quite some time we had no answers to give,” Celestia admitted. “Even now, some of the highest authorities on magic will say there is still uncertainty. According to them, We could fall to the same fate as Nightmare Moon at any time. We could be classified as a threat to your country, your towns, your families, just as you have already decided. There is no use in denying it. We could become your new worst nightmare. “But we will not. And this is why. “Nightmare Moon was weak. Blinded by fear and insecurity, she allowed herself to be controlled by her worst emotions. She let them consume her until they were all she could see. But despite her cruel, violent exterior, all she was underneath was a sniveling, terrified filly trying to run away from the crushing weight of her own reality. We are sure you can relate. “But We are stronger than that. We will not be broken that easily. Forged in sacrifice and solidified in grief, We have hardened Our heart so that not even a droplet of fear can seep through. Flawless. Connected. This is what provides strength. The support of a nation unites Us and guides Us away from the pitfalls of darkness. Or so it did. “Is this the fate of Equestria? You cannot honestly claim your country is stronger when fighting fills the streets. Rebellion would worsen your problems. Only the strongest can resist the depravities of power’s evil hold, and We are your strongest light in that darkness. United under a common cause, We shall lead you away from the sorrows of the Lunar Rebellion. Nightmare Moon, a murderer, does not deserve to hold the power to tear apart a nation of harmony, and yet she does for every second you give her your fears. Leave her in the shadows of her sin to suffer as she rightfully deserves, and let your hearts not be troubled by the past.” Out of the hundreds of ponies present, Celestia sought out only one. In the farthest corner, shrouded in the shadow of a pillar, Rose Petal stood alone, looking at Celestia with a strange emotion she couldn’t place. Wide-eyed emerald met icy magenta, as Celestia’s eyes and words pierced a wound straight into her heart. “Sad memories are best left forgotten.” Like an opening floodgate, ponies rushed forward towards their princess with questions burning on their lips. But Celestia paid them no attention. She was focused wholly and completely on Rose Petal, her resplendent eyes obscured in shadow. Celestia coldly smiled. She had taught her the meaning of fear. Rose Petal’s heart raced in her chest as she half walked, half sprinted away from the grand hall. Her head was bent and her eyes were closed in a futile attempt to keep the world from nauseatingly spinning around her, tearing her apart, even as she fought to keep herself together. Every deep breath she took tasted of poison, a poison that wormed its way into her mind and divided into a million thoughts crawling around in her mind with such persistence that she wanted to bash her head against the wall to qualm the infestation. The rational piece of her mind told her there was nothing to fear, but Rose Petal mockingly brushed it aside as merely a blind fool. Had it not seen those eyes, those eyes that even now sent shudders down her soul? Those eyes were filled with glass and brimstone, cutting iciness and choking hostility, but more than that, they were filled with knowledge. She knew. A single tear slid down her cheek at the thought of all of Canterlot, all of Equestria cloaked in eternal silence, their screams muffled beneath the mockery of peace as nightmares sucked their vitality away. A calamity that now seemed right around the corner, with her efforts like trying to hold back the sand that slipped through her hooves and down the hourglass of time. And it was only a matter of time until the spell crashed, as it had done for whatever reason before. Starswirl was her only hope. And if he wouldn’t forgive her, then surely he would at least set aside his resentment to help her? Of course; he would never be foolish enough to hold a grudge in the face of something like this. Yes, that was it. In the small window of time she had left, she would go to Starswirl, and they would figure out a solution togeth— Rose Petal’s thoughts flatlined when she was flung against the wall. “You foolish, foolish girl,” Celestia hissed, holding Rose Petal in her magical grip as she was battered like a rag doll. “Do you take me for a complete idiot? Even if I can’t remember, do you think I can’t tell when a memory modification spell has been put on me, and such a shoddily cast one at that?” “M-my princess, p-please,” Rose Petal stammered as she quivered in fear. “You must understand th-that I m-meant no harm—“ “Oh, I understand exactly what you meant,” Celestia said, her tone dangerous and biting. “After my magic reacted to the memory spell, I went to Starswirl, demanding answers. But who would have ever guessed that those answers would come from little Rose Petal? Yes, I heard it all,” she breathed, advancing menacingly towards her victim, magically pinned to the wall. “About the Lunar Rebellion, about Nightmare Moon’s true identity, about how I banished my sister to the moon using the Elements of Harmony. And I’ll tell you, it made a hell of a lot more sense than that rubbish put in my head. “But of course, that didn’t explain everything. Starswirl isn’t stupid. The spell on me is only half of his usual magical power. The explanation remained elusive, until I realized who was the reason why I could remember in the first place: you.” With a jerk of her head, Celestia sent Rose Petal plummeting to the floor. From Rose Petal’s pocket, a little glass vial clattered against the marble before her, who could only hide her face in deepest shame. The vial was half full. “Did you really want to forget that badly?” Celestia mocked with a heartless laugh. “Well, you’ll surely want to forget everything after tonight.” With each step Celestia took towards her, the alicorn grew in stature, tapping into more and more raw power, until she towered over Rose Petal, obscuring her in her looming shadow. Then, in a blinding flash of light, Rose Petal found herself transported to the Solar Balcony. The grieving image of the Mare in the Moon dripped starlight onto the alicorn below, with all six Elements of Harmony floating around her. “You thought I was too weak to face the truth, didn’t you?” Celestia demanded, her ethereal mane swirling around her like a chaotic tempest. “I, who have faced unimaginable horrors and even more unimaginable loses; I, who watched a dearest friend and dearest lover fall to darkness, unable to handle a temper tantrum from my sister? You had no right to try to take her away from me. And tonight, I’ll get her back. No longer will I be dictated by the Elements of Harmony. Tonight, I control them.” Raising her eyes to the heavens, she declared, “Relinquish your power to me, O Harmony, for there is no other rule but mine. Break apart your prison of ice and stone and space around my heart so that Harmony can be reshaped in my image, and mine alone.” Rose Petal could only watch in horror as Celestia pressed her hoof to the Element of Magic. At once, a lightning bolt tore the sky in two as the Elements of Kindness, Generosity, and Magic emitted a pulsating energy field that engulfed the alicorn in smoke. Then a beam of hot white light shot down from the moon to connect with Celestia’s horn, forming a link between heaven and earth, though not quite as nicely as it would seem. The light funneled bolt after bolt of lightning directly onto Celestia, who thrashed about wildly as she was lifted into the air. Her terrified eyes sought out Rose Petal before they were obscured in a burning light, flaming with the same heat that flared up on her scalded skin with an intense, all-consuming pain. It didn’t take long before the screams of pain that rang across Canterlot changed to laughs of insanity. But it took an eternity for Rose Petal to finally raise her eyes, just in time to see the smoke dispel to reveal the figure beneath. There were no words to describe the twisted abomination of the sun princess hat stood before Rose Petal. Her skin was painful light, her mane a fearsome blaze, and her eyes the deadly sight of red dwarf stars just ready to explode. She was terrible, she was beautiful, she was powerful, but she was not Celestia. No, this creature went by a different name, one that echoed silently in history forever. Solar Flare.