//------------------------------// // Accession Number Not Found (IV) // Story: Synthetic Bottled Sunlight // by NorrisThePony //------------------------------//  i Celestia waited. She sat, motionless, in the shadows of night. She was far enough from the well beaten path cutting through the Everfree Forest that she did not need to worry about some carriage passing by and spotting the white alicorn standing still in the darkness. Still, she could hear them pass on occasion, the sound of their heavy wheels rising in intensity and then fading as they crept forwards into Ponyville. The night was early and the moon was only beginning to bloom in its beauty in the sky beyond ceiling-like foliage, but even with the pronounced road slicing through the twisted and gnarled vegetation, nopony wished to be caught in the Everfree Forest at night. Celestia herself was thankful for the thick ceiling overhead, keeping her and the night sky separate like a mother trying to keep two arguing siblings apart. The road through the Everfree Forest was an achievement Celestia admitted she was impressed by—or at least, she would have been impressed if she did not disagree with its purpose. It was well-trodden and lit by the same electric lights that were in the city. To her amazement, they had activated by themselves when the darkness required them. The road continued to weave through the forest in the familiar direction of the Everfree Castle. Celestia repressed the urge to scowl at the very concept, convincing herself that if she were to do so, she would just be some foolish and bitter old harpy. Watching her breath rise into the cool midwinter air, Celestia took long draws of the Everfree’s rancid scent. The overhanging smell of rotten wood was hardly pleasant, but at least it was a natural unpleasant, unlike the chemical skies outside Ponyville. The Everfree, at least, was still a forest, and not some industrial wasteland. Celestia noted passively that some things simply refused to change. Somewhere down the path, a twig snapped. Celestia’s ears perked up. She took a single step forwards, so that more of the path came into view. Eventually, the source of the noise stepped into her line of sight; a somewhat pudgy purple unicorn with comically overstuffed saddlebags weighing down her walk to an awkward stumble. With a grin, Celestia made her way out of the darkness and into the light of the path. “Hello, Twilight,” Celestia greeted. As she stepped forwards she used her magic to lift one of the heavy bags off of Twilight and clipped it to her side instead. Twilight smiled gratefully at the reduced weight, and her walk became somewhat more normal. “You made it alright?” “Y...yeah,” Twilight huffed exhaustedly, her rapid breath jetting into the air. Celestia noted sadly that Twilight was hardly in good health. She supposed it was a side effect of living as cheaply as possible. “I hate taking the train, though. They stuck me in a compartment with some mare who wouldn’t stop pestering me.” “Oh?” Celestia snickered. “I presume you’re somewhat of a celebrity?” Twilight snorted. She twisted her voice into a patronizing, mocking trill. “‘Are you that writer mare? Midnight Sprinkle? My grandmother thinks you’re hilarious!’” Twilight snorted again. “How do you even respond to that?” “‘Thank you?’” Celestia suggested. “I mean, there’s no need to be defensive. It sounds as though she was complimenting you, Miss Sprinkle.” “Trust me, she wasn’t,” Twilight replied, scowling instead of grinning at Celestia’s joke. “She was being sarcastic.” Celestia said nothing. She had her doubts that Twilight had judged the situation correctly, but then again she hadn’t been there and it would be hypocritical to pretend otherwise. “What about you?” Twilight asked. “Your flight was…?” “Painful,” Celestia admitted. “I really wish my wings would cooperate with me more than they presently do. At least I was not seen.” “Hm. Didn’t you say that sunlight would help you? I don’t mean to be rude, but you don’t really seem like you’re improving very much.” “It takes time,” Celestia waved a hoof dismissively, before promptly changing the subject. “You didn’t raise any questions with the contents of your saddlebags?” “They didn’t check, thank heavens.” “Yes, those scrolls were hardly simple to write,” Celestia agreed. The last thing she wanted was for her days of effort and preparation to simply go to waste and end up confiscated by some guard in a train station, and poor Twilight asked questions she couldn’t possibly answer. And, additionally, Celestia knew that her own time was fleeting. The more she waited to make her return known, the more suspicions she would stir when she eventually did. If she waited for months before announcing her return to Equestria, she would undoubtedly raise questions as to where she had been during those months and what she had been doing that was more important than her own subjects. Right out of the starting gates she would be judged and criticised, and it was hardly a welcoming thought considering how much of that she knew lay down the road for her to confront. Celestia nudged the clasp on the saddlebag with her snout and peered inside. The glint of crystals and glowing parchment immediately greeted her, but the princess ignored those and instead withdrew a hastily constructed submarine sandwich wrapped in cellophane. “So… the Everfree Castle closes at 7,” Twilight said, trailing behind Celestia. “It’s almost 9, now.” “Good, good,” Celestia’s words were muffled by a mouthful of sandwich. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Twilight mused. “Mm?” “Breaking into a museum,” Twilight elaborated. “Who breaks into museums? Y’know, other than comic book villains?” “Well, to be fair, it isn’t a museum,” Celestia replied after gulping down her mouthful of food, “It is my former home. I gave nopony the right to convert my past into some patronizing sideshow.”   “That’s true,” Twilight agreed. “You should see some of the stuff in there, Princess. Blatant lies about you. Honestly, I don’t even know how they’re allowed to say them.” Celestia truly appreciated Twilight’s sentiment, even if she didn’t give a damn what anypony said about her. She knew she was no tyrant, and who cared if a few foolish ponies innocently held that she was? She knew better than to tell ponies what they should and shouldn’t think about her, and she had learned that simply being kind and understanding was a better tactic than any level of deceit or subliminal speech censorship. Then again, there was an obvious difference between innocent opinions and the presentation of false information claiming to be factual. Some ways down the path, Celestia muttered something about staying out of sight and then cut into the thick forest. Twilight wordlessly fell behind Celestia as the princess led the way. Even though it had been decades, she knew the forest like the backs of her aching hooves. In less than ten minutes, the two were on a cliff overlooking the Everfree Castle, nestled comfortably in a valley where not even the omnipresent vines and weeds of the forest dared venture into. Her castle had been brought back to its glory faithfully, Celestia was surprised to see. When she had abandoned it to the wilderness in its quiet moonlit grotto, she had done so on good and loving terms. A final walk through the halls that had been her home for centuries, a final admiration of the tapestries meticulously stitched and sewn. One final glance in Luna’s long vacated bedroom. She’d left the castle as it was without touching a single affair. It wasn’t that she wished to simply start again, but rather the opposite; she did not wish to move on as if nothing had happened at all. And simply clearing the libraries of their books and moving her furniture to someplace far away seemed like doing just that. Instead, she’d let the sands of time do their work with the castle. But depictions had survived. Floorplans had survived, too. She made no effort to snuff out the castle’s memory, and so it had been restored to life nearly exactly how she had remembered. Of course, the artificial electric lights surrounding the courtyard was a new affair, as was the well trodden road weaving its way downwards into the grotto. “Well, there it is,” Twilight said, panting for breath from the short walk. “Everfree Museum.” “It has been restored faithfully,” Celestia said, unclipping her saddlebag and sitting down close to the edge of the cliff overlooking the magnificent castle. “Twilight, come sit with me for a moment. We must discuss something very important before we proceed.” “Of course, Princess,” Twilight nodded, unclipping her own saddlebag and sitting next to the princess. Already, she was becoming much more comfortable around Celestia, although she still showed obvious signs of fear veiled behind respect. “What lies ahead, even I cannot be sure. The Catacombs of Canterlot where the Sunstone lies were designed specifically to keep me from passing through alive. This was done on my order, to prevent some insane, power-mad future self of mine from shattering the Sunstone and thus any hope for Equestria.” Twilight did not speak, but gave Celestia a single nod to telegraph her understanding. “I am hoping that it shall be largely harmless to you, however. If the circumstance presents itself that it is not, and you are placed in any level of danger, then our newest priority is getting you safely back to the surface.” “But… but what about the Sunstone?” “Your life is infinitely more important,” Celestia’s reply was instantaneous. “Besides, I promised your brother I would not let harm befall you.” “Well, Shiny can take that promise and shove it up his—” “Twilight,” Celestia interrupted her with venom. The mare instantly ceased, her angry expression turning to one of apologetic, sheepish apprehension. “Thank you,” Celestia said when she once again had silence. “Now, this is a more general note. I believe my statements in Canterlot bear repeating once more; if we are divided and I am captured, you will not see me again. I will be taken back underground and I don’t believe I will ever be permitted to see the sun again. There is no way I could fool them the same way twice.” “So what do I do to save you?” Celestia grinned. “You don’t. That would be impossible. I was imprisoned behind a dozen high-security checkpoints and underneath a thousand feet of bedrock. I will find my own way out, or happily die trying. As for you, Twilight, this is very important; if you are caught, questioned, or otherwise in some compromising situation in which my name or my plans even flit across your explanation, then you are to lie. You do not know me, you have not met me, and you despise the mare I supposedly am.” “I just don’t get why—” “Twilight, when I was captured, I was… hardly treated well,” Celestia recounted. It was a story she’d already told the young mare, but apparently it had not fully sunken in. “I refused to raise the sun, I threatened orderlies, I even came close to escaping on multiple occasions, and as a result I was… corrected.” Celestia moved a bit of her mane aside to show a bit of flesh that was permanently charred. “A charged electrode to the skull can have… convincing effects.” Celestia shivered. “I didn’t cave because I couldn’t take it, but merely because I knew I was fighting a fruitless battle. I finally rose the sun and put my freedom aside for an Equestria that had turned against me.” Twilight shook as a ripple of animalistic fury clearly tore through her. “That’s… that’s blatant torture! Those bastards, I can’t believe that!”   “Indeed. And if they had so little concern about what they did to the very mare who brought the sun, do you think they will grant you even a moment’s consideration? I was kept alive because I was necessary. I fear they will not feel the same way about you.” Twilight grimaced, her hoof digging into the dirt. “You’re right. I’m hardly worth a whole lot to anypony, and I doubt Equestria would even notice if they snuffed me out. One less liability in their lives.” “That is by no means what I intended,” Celestia had half a mind to grab Twilight and try to shake the crippling self-doubt out of her. She settled with a sideways glare instead. “For goodness sake, Twilight, you are not a worthless pony! You are the opposite.” Looking at her hooves, Twilight gave them a dismissive eyeroll. “Right, right.” “Twilight, look at me,” Celestia commanded with sudden sharpness, like a stern mother. Twilight’s gaze was dragged upwards lethargically, as though the action had been waylaid some ways between Twilight’s brain and nerves. “In the time I have met you, you have not used a single positive term to describe yourself, yet you have continuously helped me at every opportunity and proven yourself to be a significant asset. You are funny, smart, and likeable. So I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that you think you are an important mare.” Instantly, Twilight looked as though she regretted looking upwards as she was commanded. Her eyes were locked with Celestia’s now, so that if she broke the gaze then she would feel she was explicitly denying Celestia’s orders. “But I’m not—” “Twilight, we are not moving until I hear you say it.” With obvious effort, Twilight forced out the sentence so that she could finally look away. “I  am… an important mare.” “Yes,” Celestia agreed, rising and clipping the saddlebag back at her side. “You are. Now let’s go. Before we allow the dawn to creep up on us.” ii “Alright,” Twilight breathed, looking at the shimmering bright brown light before her—sometimes yellow, sometimes purple—and the museum still nestled in its place in the grotto far below them. “I… I suppose I’ll count down from three.” “Whatever you deem necessary,” Celestia replied, staring intently at the hovering crystal gemstone between them, held by both of their magic simultaneously so that Celestia could feel Twilight’s unicorn magic bristling against her own. The gemstone itself was hovering over top of a scroll Celestia had written herself—a rather simple teleportation spell, hardly a trial to create. Regardless, it was an absolute necessity after what she and Twilight had learned about the magic shield around the castle that blocked unicorn’s teleportation magic. Celestia had been somewhat surprised to learn that such a shield had been erected around a glorified museum, and even more surprised when she learned it was not actually magical in origin. Regardless, they had come prepared, and the teleportation scroll was only one of the many Celestia had asked Twilight to take with her on the train. “Alright,” Twilight said again, whipping out a floorplan of the Everfree Castle from her saddlebag and casting one last glance at it before shoving it back with the dozens of other scraps of parchment within. “Are you ready, princess?” “I am admittedly frightened of returning home,” Celestia said. “But yes, I am ready. On your count, Twi.” Twilight blushed at the nickname, and Celestia felt the unicorn’s magic waver a little, before suddenly spiking in intensity. The gemstone’s glowing rose in intensity, and the scroll began sparking to life, slivers of static electricity arcing through the air and striking the hovering gemstone. Twilight took a deep breath. “Three...two...one!” In an anti-climactic blink, the two were plucked from the Everfree Forest and immediately surrounded by dimly lit electric lights. Celestia felt her breath catch as the Everfree Castle appeared in vivid familiarity. Twilight had brought them into a random hallway that she had guessed would be the most deserted, but Celestia recognized it all the same. Had it really been a thousand years since she had last been there? As Celestia stood in shock, she had trouble convincing herself it was so. The memories of waltzing carelessly down the halls and gossiping with Luna and the orderlies were as clear as dawn. As were the memories of their shouting arguments, the slamming of doors, the hurling of accusation and insult. Those memories were more recent, after all. Celestia let out a long breath from her nose. “Ah… Princess?” Twilight whispered. “Are you alright?” “Yes.” Celestia nodded, shaking her head free of useless memories. “Alright. Then… I don’t mean to interrupt or anything, but…” Twilight pointed a hoof at a blinking device mounted atop one of the entranceways. Celestia remembered seeing them in the underground prison they’d kept her in. A security camera, if she was not mistaken. She repeated this to Twilight, who nodded feverishly. “Yep, that’s correct. Right now, it’s pointing towards that hall right ahead of us, so we should be good.” “I understand. But we must go through that hall in order to reach the library, and by extension the castle’s hidden catacombs.” “You… built the catacombs into the library?” Twilight rose an eyebrow. “No, but they run directly beneath. There is an entranceway in the basement of the library wing, and it is the quickest and simplest way to access the hiding place of the Sunstone.” “It’s not on any of the floor plans,” Twilight already had them pulled out from her saddlebag. She trotted over to a glass table (one of many lining the walls beneath muddy portraits of long forgotten mares) and outstretched the plan across it. “It wouldn’t be.” Celestia nodded. She pointed a hoof at the catacombs, which according to the floor plan stopped some distance before the library wing. “The ‘catacombs’ end where they are marked on the map, but the underground passage continues on. It is in those caverns that the more… dangerous relics of Equestria’s past lie.” “Like the Elements of Harmony?” Twilight guessed. “No, I’m afraid not,” Celestia said sadly. She would have to explain to Twilight about the Tree of Harmony and her necessary sacrifice, but that could wait until they were not trespassing inside of a rather well-guarded museum. “Alright. Well, to get to the library…” Twilight consulted her floor plan again, and swore bitterly. “Stars, you’re right. We’ve gotta go through this hall.” “A banquet hall,” Celestia recalled, with distant nostalgia. “Oh, I remember the dances we would have in there. Half of Canterville would travel for miles just to attend.” Celestia couldn’t suppress a small chuckle. “My sister was always hounded by young fillies and colts. at those banquets. They loved her. Wouldn’t leave her to a moment’s privacy.” Twilight said nothing. Celestia blinked away her bittersweet, nostalgic reverie, and before the hollow and empty feeling of loneliness could creep into its shadow, she shook her head and brought her mind back to the matters at hoof. “The camera.” She pointed at the blinking device. “I would prefer not to be spotted by it.” “Right. We can’t teleport, thanks to the suppression field, but perhaps… damn it, I don’t know! Maybe if we…” The mare had started rambling, pacing back and forth down the hall, stumbling over phrases obviously intended for her brain and not her lips. In the still and empty museum halls, her voice sounded much louder than she’d probably intended. Celestia was instantly reminded of finding Twilight rambling to herself as she investigated some suspicious affair in her study back in Canterlot. “Twilight,” Celestia stepped forward and outstretched a wing, signalling for her to stand back. Then, she shot a magic beam directly at the security camera. The thing disintegrated into ash without making a sound. “There!” Celestia said with childlike mischievousness. “Problem solved!” Twilight was speechless for a moment, and then: “You just...” she began, looking from Celestia’s horn to the pile of ash. “That was awesome. And… a little terrifying.”   “Thank you,” Celestia said earnestly. “Now come along, Miss Sprinkle.” The two trotted across the banquet hall. Celestia let Twilight take the lead, for Twilight had the floor plan and Celestia did not trust her own memory of the castle nearly enough to bet their safety on it. iii Twilight had begun leading the way through the castle at a rapid pace, but she slowed down significantly before long. Not only was she severely lacking any physical endurance that allowed her to carry on, she could have no idea whether or not she would run around some corner right into a security guard who had left his post to use the bathroom. Furthermore, Celestia seemed to appreciate the slower pace also. Despite her lectures of urgency and importance, the attitude that the princess was radiating was nothing of the sort. At one point during their sneaking pilgrimage to the Everfree Castle’s library, Twilight had turned to find Celestia gone. Her terror had spiked, and she had turned down the closest corridor only to find Celestia posing on a pedestal underneath a museum sign that read Forgotten Relics. Celestia was doing her best to keep a straight face, and she failed the moment Twilight burst out laughing. Considering all the dread and drudgery that had defined Celestia’s recent years, Twilight found herself amazed by the princess’s positive attitude. Ever since she had shown up unannounced in Twilight’s library, she had been incurably optimistic. Even during their long, introspective moments on the library’s roof, Twilight had traced Celestia’s stares at the smokestacks from behind her cloudy cataracts and she had failed to detect a trace of anger in Celestia’s expression. Disappointment, certainly. Melancholic reflection abound. But it seemed to all be directed inwards. When she had first considered the very same thought as she nearly fled from Old Canterlot and from Celestia, it had seemed ludicrous. But now, the thought that she shared similarities with the solar princess did not seem quite so  unbelievable. Remembering Celestia’s words of encouragement to her earlier, Twilight forced her own forwards despite the screaming and terrified voice of her conscience telling her she would just make a fool of herself to even try and approach a mare like Celestia. “You’re not a relic,” Twilight said with an awkward giggle. “Oh? That is good to hear,” the Princess snickered. “Anyways, we can get to the library quicker this way.” Celestia hopped back down, her hooves clacking loudly against the castle’s marble floor, and she lead the way further down the Hall of Forgotten Relics. It was perhaps an inaccurate name, considering how important the “relics” had been to Equestria. Most of them were definitely not forgotten, and in many cases were not even relics to begin with. It wasn’t as though anypony cared whether or not they were real, as long as they looked as though they were and foolish tourist ponies got their photos, there was no reason to care. One such relic was a crafted replica of the Element of Magic. It was a faithful recreation, although Twilight could clearly see that the gem in the middle of the crown was a sparkling pink sapphire. More extravagant, perhaps, but the real Element of Magic’s gem was merely polished tourmaline. Twilight’s attention was jerked by the sound of rustling metal. Looking away from the Element of Magic, she saw Celestia slipping into a set of her regalia from several centuries prior. It was a cruder affair than the one she had left behind in her subterranean prison, with sharper looking edges and a more stoic design, but she fit into it well all the same. “Forgot how uncomfortable this thing was,” Celestia grumbled, slipping her hooves into the regalia’s matching hipposandals. “How do I look?” Twilight was floored by the question, but thankfully, Celestia did not actually wait for a response. The princess instead immediately trotted over to the Element of Magic in front of Twilight, analyzing it for several seconds and then chuckling. “Close, but no cigar,” Celestia breathed. “It’s the wrong gemstone,” Twilight agreed, pointing at the dark pink sapphire. “The real Element doesn’t have a sapphire in the middle. Just a cheap old pink tourmaline.” “Very good,” Celestia praised warmly. “An interesting irony, I must say. I’d bet this replica would fetch a higher price at an auction house than the real article.” Celestia lifted the Element of Magic to examine it closer, and then passed it to Twilight. “So… the Elements were real?” Twilight asked, turning the thing over, examining its flawless polished surface and the sparkling gem. “Do you believe they were?” “Yeah,” Twilight gulped. “Why would you lie about them?” “I find your trust very flattering,” Celestia smiled. “Thank you, Twilight. I’m curious; what else can you tell me about the Elements of Harmony?” Doing her best to keep her mind calm despite Celestia’s abrupt pop quizzing, Twilight racked her brain and tried to conjure up memories of some dusty history book she had studied one time or another. “Well, only the Element of Magic has a crown like that,” Twilight began. “The other five are just gemstones. They are generosity, honesty, loyalty, kindness, and…. uh… joy, right?” “Laughter,” Celestia corrected, beaming. “I am very impressed. You are a very learned mare indeed.” Twilight felt her face reddening in a blush, and she forced out a stuttering thanks. Then, she placed the artificial Element of Magic back on its pedestal, and Celestia continued leading the way down the hall. Twilight walked with her eyes on her hooves, but she was quick to look up when Celestia abruptly stopped, her newly donned hipposandals clacking loudly on the polished floors. The princess of the sun let out a surprised gasp, and when Twilight’s eyes darted up, she instantly saw why. Another section of the hall lay ahead of them, but labelled differently, and characterized by vastly different artificial lighting. Where Celestia’s old affairs had been displayed beneath soft and warm yellow light, the hall’s lighting abruptly shifted to a cold blue underneath a foreboding sign. Hall of Nightmares. Celestia did not speak as she took another cautious step forwards. Twilight could clearly see the wariness in her walk, as though she were greatly intrigued of what lay forwards and yet much too frightened to properly venture forth. Wordlessly, Twilight increased her pace so that she was walking beside the princess, and not behind her. Together, they continued forwards. Celestia stopped in front of an icy blue helmet. Twilight saw her breath catch in recognition of the foreboding object. Reaching a shivering hoof forwards, Celestia dragged it softly across the cold metal. “Sister,” she sighed. She did not divert her glare, but the single word cast accusation towards every personal object from her life thrust forwards for the pleasure of strangers. “They’ve made a mockery of us both.” “I’m sorry,” Twilight offered. “I… did this belong to your sister?” Celestia looked up from the helmet. She blinked, as if in realization. Then, in an almost defensive tone, she answered. “Nightmare Moon was not my sister.” That wasn’t what I asked, Twilight stopped herself from saying aloud. “Then... do you mind if I ask what happened to your sister?” Twilight had meant it as a simple, curious passing remark, one she had always been curious to have answered. Regardless, Celestia’s answer was soft and mature, yet her firmness was clearly visible from beyond an enigmatic smile. “With respect, my dear,” Celestia sighed. “I do mind.” Twilight nodded in understanding and yet spoke without thinking. “I’m sorry. I was just curious… y’know, about whether or not what they say about you really is— “Stop it.” There was no smile to muddy Celestia’s firmness now. As she nearly barked out the two words, she brought her armoured hoof down on the polished museum floor. It took the best of Twilight’s composure not to break down in tears of terror. Celestia’s outburst was hardly one of fury, yet coming from such a calm and kind mare it very well felt as much. Twilight could not recall a moment in which Celestia had raised her voice, and to hear it for the first time directed at her was nearly enough to make her turn and flee as she had in Canterlot. Instead, she gulped and sunk her head in shame. The two stood motionless for several seconds, avoiding each other’s gaze for what felt like an eternity. Then, Celestia opened her mouth as if to speak, closed it again, and continued leading the way towards the library with newfound conviction in her limping stride. Twilight followed on shaking hooves. iv Celestia was the first to break a nearly fifteen minute silence, her words sounding muffled as she spoke with her snout searching the contents of her saddlebag. “I believe you have the gem and scroll in your saddlebag,” she said. Any trace of the hostility that had driven them both into silence was gone, although Twilight found herself warily approaching the princess all the same as she unclipped her own saddlebag to pass her the gemstone and scroll. The scent of mouldy books was omnipresent. Despite the entire castle being twisted in order to convert the Royal Sister’s past and memories into some sort of sideshow tourist trap, no amount of tweaking could kill the scent of a thousand years of age eating away at a completely untouched library. Twilight produced the gem and scroll—which looked nearly identical to the ones they had used earlier—and levitated them towards Celestia. “Yes, these are the ones,” the princess said. “Normally my own horn would suffice in locating enchantments, but less so when said enchantments are designed not to be detected by my horn.” Twilight nodded, wearing a blank expression, watching passively as Celestia’s magic sprung to life. As before, the scroll and gem lit in a flourishing fireworks display of colourful lightning. The air took on a metallic scent as the enchantment built in intensity and Celestia’s expression became a focused frown. Twilight’s own horn had begun tingling with an irritating sensation, not dissimilar to when she had been casting her magic on the teleportation spell at the same time as Celestia. It once more felt like her own magic was physically rubbing against another unicorn's, but the frequency was certainly not that of Princess Celestia. As the enchantment sparked, it felt as though all of the air in the library was collapsing towards the hovering yellow gemstone. For a moment, Twilight thought it was just her, but a sideways glance showed her that Celestia, too, was gasping for air as she cast her magic. To Twilight’s surprise, Celestia seemed to be in visible distress and her breathing was much more laboured. While the tingling in her horn had twisted Twilight’s expression into an irritated frown, Celestia was grimacing in pain. Then, the gemstone abruptly shattered. An alarming shockwave of escaping air followed. The foreign magic rubbing against Twilight’s own spiked in intensity and did not immediately go away. Instead, it only continued growing in strength. The case was the same with Celestia, who was still breathing heavily even as the air returned to normal. “Princess… are you alright?” “Focus, Twilight,” Celestia replied with intensity but not hostility, a foreboding rasp skirting the outlines of her voice. “Do you feel magic that is not your own?” “Yeah…” “Good,” Celestia said, squeezing her eyes in a grimace as the foreign magic once more spiked. “We must follow it.” Twilight instantly obeyed. Despite the tickling sensation in her horn, following the strange magic flows was an oddly natural feeling, as though her horn were a compass leading her through a terrible blizzard. She trotted towards the staircase which led down to the bottom floor of the library, and without hesitation began descending them at a brisk pace. Celestia followed, but stumbled twice going down the stairs. What was only a minor irritation to Twilight appeared to be a major hindrance for her. At the bottom of the stairs, Twilight only had to walk a few more paces before stopping abruptly in front of a glowing design in the tiles of the library’s bottom floor. It was a sun and moon in tandem, both of them glowing in a crude magic aura that Twilight instantly recognized as the gemstone’s. “Here,” Celestia rasped, pointing to the glowing emblem. “Hm,” Twilight sniffed. “Subtle. So this leads to the Catacombs?” Celestia grunted her affirmation just as the large sun and moon tiles suddenly began shifting, first downwards for a foot, then disappearing into carefully cut slots underneath the library floor. The stones finished sliding into place, revealing a dusty spiral stairway descending into nothingness. “Woah,” Twilight breathed. She reached into her saddlebag to find her camera, but Celestia was quick to usher them towards the opening and down the steps. Twilight opened her mouth to point out that they did not have any means of light to enter the Catacombs with, but the sound of shifting stone quickly silenced her and justified Celestia’s urgency. Already, the moon and sun tiles were returning to their proper places as the last of the enchantment faded away. The tiles ascended and began fanning back outwards. Then, any of the light from the outside world was instantly extinguished, flooding both mares in perfect darkness. “That was close,” Celestia panted. “Well, better light a torch, Twi.” Twilight felt her blood curdle. Panic and confusion escalated to terror before she could even fully register what was happening. The stones above them were heavy. They would not be returning the way they had come. Downwards was the only way forwards. Yet downwards only lay darkness. “Twilight,” Celestia repeated, somewhat impatiently. She was still panting, but the pain seemed to have left her. “Light, please.” If there would have been light, Twilight imagined Celestia would have clearly seen the terror in her face as she spoke. “I… I didn’t bring a torch, Princess.” Celestia was silent for several seconds. “I appreciate your good humour, Twilight, but please do so when the conditions are appropriate.” The darkness was so complete, Twilight could not even fully decide where Celestia was. Any chance of them making it down the stairwell and to the Sunstone was an impossibility. Downward, darkness. Downward, darkness. The thought echoed again and again in Twilight’s head as she gulped and repeated herself. “I don’t have a torch, Princess,” she managed. And then, her voice cracking, “I’m so sorry.” Before her apology had even completely left her tongue, yellow light flooded the spiraling staircase. All was illuminated, the emblem above them, the dust swirling madly all about, and the guilty and mischievous smile of Princess Celestia. “We have horns,” Celestia pointed out bluntly. “I apologize, Twilight. Did I frighten you?” “Yes,” Twilight sighed loudly, in both relief and irritation directed inwards. “I’m an idiot. I thought I’d just killed us both by forgetting a torch.” She lit her own horn, her purple light joining Celestia’s yellow, and just as she did so she realized something else. “You knew! You could’ve lit your horn! You scared me on purpose!” “I admit I perhaps took the joke too far,” Celestia admitted sheepishly. The angle of her horn’s light shifted as her head fell. Twilight could only giggle in response, although Celestia’s antics only drove forwards an inkling question she desperately wished to ask but did not dare out of fear of insulting the princess. But now, after seeing Celestia’s guilty reaction to her own innocent prank, she felt a sudden spike in confidence. The two began descending the infinite steps as she posed the first question of many. “Princess Celestia… can I uh… speak freely with you?” Celestia cast a backwards glance from several steps down, looking almost offended. “Twilight. You are my friend. You should never be frightened of speaking with me. What is troubling you?” “It’s just… it’s going to sound strange, but… my whole life I’ve sort of held this one vision of the ‘great Princess Celestia.’ Well, actually, two visions: the one I remember as a filly, and the one Flim and Flam shoved forwards. Both of them basically put you in the position of some unapproachable goddess, either because of your power or… uh...” “Expertly veiled wrath?” Celestia finished, much to Twilight’s gratitude. “I hope you have found those visions to be fictitious?” “Yeah, of course I have. I’m sorry, I don’t even really know why I’m mentioning it to you. It’s just, nearly every pony in Equestria has this opinion of you as either a goddess or a tyrant. Imagine my surprise when you turn out to be cheery and funny. And approachable.” Celestia’s reply was not immediate, as though the princess was turning over Twilight’s words like they were some complex riddle. Both mares simply continued descending down the seemingly infinite staircase in silence for nearly a minute before Celestia’s response finally came. “Thank you,” she said earnestly. “After you’ve been cooped up alone in a brick room for a decade, it is quite easy to find joy in the outside world and the ponies inhabiting it. I simply hope Equestria shares in your opinion.” “I’m sure they will,” Twilight said. “If two arrogant business ponies convinced them, I’m sure you can, too.” “I wish I had your optimism,” Celestia sighed. “Raven, my… ah, caretaker, used to bring me newspaper clippings to keep me up to date on Equestria’s going-ons. Imagine my shame when there were entire articles devoted to praising the Equestria my archaic self had kept at bay.” Indeed, Twilight had no trouble imagining Celestia’s shame upon being confronted with such articles. Twilight herself had been the one publicly refuting them, after all. She could only imagine Celestia’s assistant grazing over piles of newspapers and accidentally missing one of the pathetic few offering anything but praise for Equestria’s glorious new dystopia. It was almost enough to make her feel proud when she considered how her foolish scribblings could have actually made the very princess of the sun feel anything beyond shame and embarrassment. “How much longer does this staircase go on?” Twilight groaned. Her hooves were beginning to ache, and the dust was nearly enough to make her pass out. It swirled all about, forcing her to constantly blink to clear it from her eyes and sneeze to clear it from her nose. They’d been descending for what surely must have been longer than half an hour, and yet still she could see no end in sight. Twilight could only begin to imagine why building the Catacombs so deep under the ground would be necessary. “I do believe we are almost at the end,” Celestia said, sounding quite out of breath herself. “How can you tell?” “My horn is beginning to flicker from magical interference,” Celestia said cryptically, pausing to turn around and demonstrate what Twilight had no reason not to believe. True to her word, Celestia’s horn occasionally faded in luminosity, like a torch in a light rain. Celestia’s suspicions seemed reasonable to Twilight, but they also bled into further questions. “What exactly is doing that, Princess? Even up there, the magic seemed to really be distressing you.” “Indeed it was,” Celestia admitted. “You must understand, this entire area is designed with the sole purpose of preventing me from crossing easily. Eating away at my magic is logically the first step in order to do so.” “You… you will be able to make it, though, right?” Twilight felt a sudden stab of guilt; in her excitement in the face of their adventure, she had not even considered the implications of Celestia’s cryptic predictions of what the Catacombs held for her. The very memory of seeing Celestia grimace from some internal irritation had been enough to make Twilight feel distressed herself, as though she too could feel the pain that only Celestia felt. “Oh, yes,” Celestia said nonchalantly. “Don’t worry about me.” Despite her agreeing nod, Twilight decided she’d feel quite a lot better about herself if she chose to ignore Celestia’s request this particular time. It wasn’t as though worrying about Celestia was particularly difficult to do as of recently. v When she finally reached the bottom of the spiral stairwell, Celestia had lost her magic completely, so that only Twilight’s horn was keeping their surroundings illuminated. Celestia descended the last dozen steps on shaking hooves, feeling as though she were about to tumble down them with every step and yet somehow managing to prevent herself from doing so. She apologized to Twilight when her horn had finally blinked out and every time she stumbled a little on the steps, but the unicorn seemed too shy to say much beyond an indecipherable mumble. Now, the long staircase was finally behind them, and an equally as infinite hallway of greying bricks stretched onwards far beyond Twilight’s illumination spell. The temperature had dropped to nearly freezing as they had descended, and already Celestia was regretting not bringing a cloak or jacket for Twilight, even if the unicorn had instantly insisted that she was fine when Celestia mentioned it. Celestia had also withdrawn from her saddlebag yet another enchanted gemstone, tied with twine so that it resembled a crude necklace. "Wear this," Celestia ordered, passing it to Twilight. "I only had the resources to make one. It should help deter any of the enchantments that the tunnel produces." "But... shouldn't you wear it?" Twilight hesitated, not immediately taking the necklace. "It seems to be affecting you more than me." "Perhaps, but my body can also afford to be subjected to the enchantments moreso than yours." Celestia placed the thing around Twilight's neck despite her protests. "If things get too bad, we shall take turns wearing it." The Catacombs beneath the Everfree were only so in name. Or, rather, the Everfree Castle did indeed have a set of subterranean tombs, but the tunnel they were travelling down was far beneath even those. Without a public purpose and with its location being a largely kept secret, the tunnel had no reason to be identified in its own terms. The tunnel was wider than a pony would imagine, and arced in a half circle, much like a culvert would. Many of the bricks had fallen from more than a thousand years of time, and more than a thousand feet of dirt above. Still, Celestia knew better than to assume that there was only brick and mortar around her. She could feel it pulsing through her dead horn. Her head was throbbing in a migraine-like headache, and she could faintly hear the sound of her own pulse in her ears. It was a long way to the Sunstone cavern, and she knew it was only going to get worse as she advanced. But there was no progress to be made standing still at the foot of the staircase. With her horn’s light extinguished, Celestia let Twilight take the lead. While Celestia was doing her best to keep her pain as hidden from her expression as possible, one glance at Twilight and it was clear that the unicorn was being spared entirely from the spells designed to stop the princess of the sun alone. Together, the two ventured onwards into the foreboding darkness. The tunnel was stark and featureless, and the temperature seemed to drop by a degree every minute despite their elevation remaining consistent. Celestia was quite certain it was some projection of her overworking brain, because Twilight did not seem to be aware of it. As they walked, Celestia tried to return magic to her horn, to no avail. The only change she managed to achieve was an intensification of her already throbbing headache, and yet still she stubbornly tried over and over, if at least to have something to occupy herself with as they made their way through the dank and featureless tunnel. The tunnel did not deviate in size, shape, or direction. It was the same straight path, so mind-numbingly consistent Celestia had memorized how many bricks formed the ceiling after only twenty minutes of walking. Twilight was hardly a conversationalist, and any of Celestia's attempts usually ended the moment Twilight answered with an awkward laugh or one-word response. Still, any distraction from the overhanging magic was a welcomed one. Or, so Celestia figured.   The moment a black alicorn stepped into the light of Twilight's horn, she decided she would have greatly preferred the sole company of her headache at the hooves of the tunnel's overhanging magic. Twilight made no move that she saw the alicorn, and continued walking straight onwards at her determined pace. Nightmare Moon paused, looked over Twilight's form for a moment or two, and then shrugged and matched pace with Celestia instead. For several seconds, the two walked side-by-side in silence, as though they were two friends who had just gotten into a petty bickering argument and were unsure whether the other was truly offended. “So, that nerdy purple cow is your newest prized pupil?” Nightmare Moon eventually said. Celestia cast her a filthy sideways glance and said nothing. “I'm impressed. You're not even a little surprised to see me. I didn't know you were that cruel.” “You’re gone,” Celestia whispered calmly, well aware that with any volume, Twilight would hear her talking to herself as though she were a madmare. “I’m sorry, sister, I truly am, but you are not here. You're only in my head.” The beast crept forwards, widening its saber-toothed smile as she leaned in threateningly close. “That doesn’t mean I’m not real.” Nightmare Moon whispered the words into Celestia’s ear, then gave the stoic white alicorn a playful tap in her skull, signalling to her churning brain within. Then, as if to drive her point further, and as gruesomely as possible, the beast erupted into purple mist and vanished from sight. Immediately after it did, Celestia was struck with a stabbing pain in her upper abdomen—the same alcohol-dipped dagger as before—slicing easily through her flesh and rubbing threateningly against her rapidly beating heart. It stabbed her twice, impossibly close to the vital organ both times. The pain she’d felt on the roof of the library had been a sliver compared to what Nightmare Moon was dealing now. Celestia tried and failed to hold back cries of pain every time the sharp dagger of magic struck, and she collapsed to the cold floor of the tunnel. Her world that should have been illuminated solely by Twilight’s magic had now taken on a reddish tint. Despite every muscle’s intentions to refuse her mind’s command, Celestia managed to bring a hoof first to her newly injured chest and then to her eye to examine it closely. Her hoof was shaking, and the blood it was drenched in splattered somewhat onto the lenses of her eyeglasses. “How’s that for real, Celestia?” Nightmare Moon reappeared, grinning not with malice but with genuine humour and pleasure. “Very,” Celestia managed to croak out. “Hmph,” Nightmare Moon sniffed, looking away from Celestia to examine the tunnels surrounding them. She rose an eyebrow curiously, as though just now noting the oddness of the location. To Celestia’s grim relief, it was a location whose memories Luna had taken with her. But even Nightmare Moon’s confusion could not veil the obvious flow of magic hanging above them. “Is that your dear sister’s magic that I feel coursing through me?” Nightmare Moon cooed. “Oooh… the moonlight is one thing, but this! I feel like I could kill you right now with all of this magic!” “If you must, I understand,” Celestia sunk her head. “But please. Don’t harm the unicorn.” Nightmare Moon blinked. Then, she hung her head and cackled. “The unicorn? Oh, I couldn’t harm her if I tried. Luna seems to have taken that precaution. Seems as though you were the only pony she wished to destroy with this enchanted tunnel.” Despite the circling vultures in her mind cawing predictions of a rending death, Celestia afforded herself a smile. Luna. She had done her job precisely as she had promised, even if it was a job she had been firmly opposed to doing. Back before isolation had begun tearing them apart. The sharp pain was rubbing against Celestia’s beating heart again. Occasionally, it would spike a little in intensity, threatening to escalate to an actual wound. A wound that would be the final one her living self would feel. With effort, Celestia managed to calm her breathing. She’d been a fool to think that the tunnel designed to kill her would fail to complete its task, considering the unparalleled skillset of the mare who had created it. She had been arrogant to insult Luna so. Looking back up, she saw that Nightmare Moon was gone. She was now truly alone. That was alright, too. A final flicker of life in the growing darkness now, but a solar flare of hope in the future. Still, something was wrong. The darkness was a lie. Even as the light faded, Celestia knew something was wrong. For the light should not have been there at all. “Celestia!” A screeching, urgent voice jerked Celestia from her hypnotic reverie. The redness slunk back from her pupils into the recesses of her mind, even if the bloodstains on her eyeglasses remained. The light focused, brightened, intensified, and the echoing feeling of loneliness had been filled by the presence of a nearby companion. With a blink, the red film before her vanished and Celestia was looking into the widened eyes of Twilight Sparkle.   “Princess Celestia…” Twilight said again, sounding as though she was not entirely confident that she would receive a response. Her eyes were alight with terror. Celestia blinked again. Her head was still throbbing, and her body was still chanting its pain, but as the seconds passed she felt confident enough to speak. “I apologize,” she whispered, rising back to her hooves and wincing from the effort. Twilight moved to help her rise but was too slow. “Let’s keep moving.” “No, wait! Hold up! Not again!” Twilight trotted forwards, standing confidently in front of Celestia, impeding her way forwards. “Princess, that wasn’t right! You’re bleeding! You look like you just got stabbed! Those are fresh wounds! What in Tartarus is happening to you?” “I am fine,” Celestia said wearily, knowing that even the most foolish pony in Equestria would view it as a pathetic lie. “Please get out of my way, Twilight.” “Not until you tell me what’s happening to you!” Although the terror had not left her face, Twilight followed her statement with a confident glare and a spark of magic springing from her horn. A spider-web of light exploded from it, outstretching across the tunnel and forming into a barrier that further divided the path forwards. “Twilight,” Celestia said impatiently. “The only way forwards is the Sunstone. We can wait here forever, and I will continue to lose blood every moment you keep your little barrier active. Is that what you want?” “Of course not! But you’re in pain! I want to be able to help you!” “Then do it by listening to me.” Celestia stood as still as a statue, even as her blood dripped into a growing pool around her hooves. Twilight was no fool, hardly incapable of seeing defeat when it presented itself. Celestia saw her fear vanish and the rest of her anger took its place, yet she dropped the barrier all the same. Not a lot further down the path, the Sunstone was lying dormant in anticipation. Celestia could feel its tug, calling her forwards like a siren’s song. vi Luna’s ancient magic grew stronger and stronger as the tug of the Sunstone pulled Celestia forwards. Even with darkness as the only waypoint forwards, Celestia knew before Twilight’s light illuminated the pathway that the Sunstone lay close. The princess rose a wing to stop Twilight in her tracks, and cracked a grin. Luna’s magic was stronger than it ever had been. Celestia could hear her heart thumping like war drums. Her throbbing headache felt as though it wished to split her head apart. But her long-dead horn was tickling with activity. Occasionally an excited spark showered from it as the appendage picked up the tug of the Sunstone. It was calling to Celestia just as the Sun did every dawn, like some friendly gentleman caller in an old mare’s beach novel. “We’re here,” Celestia breathed. “It’s ahead.” Twilight nodded and began to lead the way, but Celestia’s wing did not move. “Wait here,” the princess commanded. It was not a request, and there was no ambiguity in her voice. Celestia stepped out of the perimeter of the light Twilight had been casting and onwards into darkness. “Almost there, Celly,” an unwelcome voice cooed from somewhere in the inky blackness the moment it had crept around Celestia like a curtain. A look backwards and Celestia saw it was much the same, as though Nightmare Moon had taken all the light of her world away the moment she had appeared. “Why don’t you want the unicorn to follow you? Afraid she’ll see your own precious little Sunstone turn against you?” “It is a concern of mine,” Celestia whispered, quiet enough that Twilight would not overhear. She was no such fool as to think that the Sunstone itself was not bearing any enchantments designed to keep her away. In fact, she knew it for a fact. The last thing she wanted was for Twilight to suffer the horrors such enchantments would bring about. “Hm, how very selfless of you,” Nightmare Moon’s voice came from an entirely different location this time. “Well, I won’t keep you. Have fun. See you on the other side.” Celestia could do nothing more than shiver. Other side. The last she had heard that taunt from Nightmare Moon had been on that terrible night where everything had changed. Hearing it again only rekindled the fear that her memory had chosen to drive away. Other side. Celestia truly did not know what lay there. Nor did she know whether Nightmare Moon’s goading had any merit. And the mystery was enough for part of her to believe it was true. All she could do was keep running. She’d been doing it so well, and for so long, and anything else seemed almost alien to her. Celestia stumbled as her hooves struck an abrupt change in the flat tunnel floor. She cried out in surprise and struck stone steps without grace, but quickly rose to her feet and brushed herself off wearing an embarrassed expression for the darkness all around. Behind her, Twilight was staring with a concerned expression, not fifteen feet away. Celestia smiled sheepishly and noted sadly that the darkness that had veiled her had only ever existed in her own mad mind. A cautious hoof stabbed through the darkness, searching for the next step. Finding it, Celestia crept her way forwards in the same wary fashion, step by step. Then, the stabbing pain returned, in all of its fiery fury. “Princess!” Twilight screamed as Celestia crumbled on the steps and slid roughly down to the tunnel floor once more. Ignoring Celestia’s orders, Twilight tore forwards, her horn alight with added intensity, but Celestia was already back on her hooves by time she had arrived. “I am fine,” she said raspily, coughed, and said it again. “I… I can help you up the stairs,” Twilight offered, casting a horrified glance at the blood trickling down the steps like a waterfall from where Celestia had fallen. “I appreciate it, but I am no invalid.” “You… are incurably stubborn,” Twilight said in defeat, falling behind Celestia as she once more took on the cold stone stairs, this time with the benefit of Twilight’s illuminated horn. “I make no attempt to deny it,” Celestia replied. “The Sunstone is at the top of these stairs, Twi. I can feel it.” “That’s good to hear. Let’s hope these stairs aren’t a repeat of the other ones.” “They aren’t,” Celestia shook her head. “Eight, maybe ten flights tops.” “Only ten. How encouraging,” Twilight groaned. “What kind of architect does this? Makes a huge tunnel underground that just leads to stairs that lead back up again. It’s like the world’s most tiring practical joke.” Despite Twilight’s chagrin, the ascent began as nothing if not uneventful. Nightmare Moon occasionally offered a snide observation which Celestia ignored. It was only a figment of her mind—but not imagination—and she would not grant it the luxury of a response. Especially when Twilight would hear it, too. Unfortunately, not all of Nightmare Moon’s attacks were verbal, and not all of Celestia’s hallucinations were subtle. Luna’s overhanging magic only grew in strength with every flight of stairs they climbed, and with it the same pains cut into Celestia’s already aching abdomen. She stumbled and fell each time, but Twilight was always quick to respond. The poor mare had quickly learned not to ask any of the questions she surely would have been itching to blurt out. Even with the two mares traveling in silence, it did not seem long before the foreboding, spiraling stone took on a tint of orange with the promise of some form of light ahead. Celestia knew better than to increase her pace—her hooves were aching as they were, and she felt woozy from blood loss. And even her own injuries aside, Luna’s magic was yet another force more than prepared to send her falling back down the very stairs she had just exhausted herself climbing. Yet, even with Luna’s persistent magic waving through the air, the Sunstone was a trough to her soaring crests, and Celestia was too close to let pain be the catalyst to stop her. With her eye locked on the steps and her hooves, she saw the flowery red carpet before she saw the Sunstone before her. Twilight emerged a few seconds later, huffing and panting, but Celestia had already started into the carpeted room, with all of its brilliant tapestries hung proudly in this room that had played host only to dust and darkness for a thousand years unended. The room was a humble size, but hardly a humble room. The tapestries expertly stitched, the walls lined with armour still polishing as marvelously as the day they had been hauled into darkness never to be seen by anypony again. And at the end of the room, on an ivory pedestal, encased in a case that appeared to be glass, was the Sunstone itself. Not a fancy gem, not something Celestia would imagine there would have been much demand to twist into a replica and sell in the museum’s gift shop, but it was the Sunstone all the same. As humble a piece of rock as it had ever been, with its crude, sharpened edges and bits of glowing magic seeping from cracks and holes on its surface. “Not what I was expecting,” Twilight admitted, joining Celestia beside the glass case. “This is it?” “This is the stone that made a chaos spirit realize there was a new goddess in town,” Celestia said jokingly. Twilight giggled and rose a hoof to the glass, one that Celestia was quick to swat away. “I have my doubts that the case is glass. And I have my doubts it is not enchanted.” “But… you said it wouldn’t affect anypony except you, right?” “I said I was earnestly hoping that such was the case. I doubt that the same rules apply to the enchantments around the Sunstone, anyways. Twilight, can you tell me what Haycartes Third Outlawed Spell was?” “Ah… trap magic. Basically, it could place a curse on stuff like chests or doors, so that if a pony tried to open them they’d be injured or… worse.” “Outlawed for a reason,” Celestia nodded. “I never liked that mare.” “Wait. Haycartes was a mare?” “Can we stay focused, please?” “Right, sorry. So it might be trapped. What do we do?” “Spring the trap,” Celestia said simply. “Alright. So we use some of the gemstones we brought, and—” “No,” Celestia shook her head. “That won't work. Gemstones project charged magic, they cannot absorb it. A living thing must spring the trap and absorb the magic.” Twilight stared blankly. “Me, obviously,” Celestia added. “No way. You're already losing blood fast enough. You can't afford any more injuries.” “I can, and I will.” “Surely we can defuse this thing without having to put you through that?” “Yes, with weeks of research and piles of elite resources, and we can afford neither,” Celestia said. “Trust me. I'll be fine.” Twilight blinked, and took a step back. Her expression was a confusing mixture of frustration and awestruck admiration. “You're… really set on getting this rock. Alright. Tell me what we need to do.” “We will empty our charged gemstones. Then, I will use my body as a sort of pump, and vent the hexing magic into them,” Celestia shrugged. “Seems like it should work.” “You're gonna be alright doing that? I… I can do it, instead. Or maybe we can take turns. If you start… ah, going under, I can step in and pump the rest.” Celestia pursed her lips. She had to admit, it was a tempting alternative. She had already vowed to herself that she would not allow harm to befall Twilight, but considering her life was on the line she felt as though she somewhat deserved to be at least a little selfish. An arbitrary promise seemed weak grounds to justify giving up her own life. Still, Twilight's alternative, as tempting as it truly was, seemed unlikely to succeed. “Interesting,” she said simply. “But I fear that 'taking turns' would be impossible in practice. The moment the hexing magic starts flowing, it will come as a rapid torrent. The procedure will last forty, maybe sixty seconds at the most, and that is being considerably generous.  Breaking the flow of that rapid torrent of magic will be nearly impossible to do.” Twilight gave the carpet a frustrated stomp. “Well, that really sucks.” “Indeed.” The two stepped back from the Sunstone's pedestal. Celestia unclasped her saddlebag, delicately removing each gemstone and analyzing their sizes and shapes individually. Twilight, by contrast, violently overturned her entire bag and dumped them all to the carpet in a flurry of scrolls and stone. In less than half an hour, the air of the room had taken on a revolting scent, and the roof above them had been veiled by a hanging canopy of oddly coloured smoke, like the inside of an Appleloosan tavern. The hypocrisy of her magical gemstones polluting the air with their venting byproduct was not lost on Celestia. Fortunately, thanks to the scent and oddly tasting air, Luna's magic was now almost completely veiled from Celestia. As she once more approached the Sunstone, she did so with the empty gemstones floating in her gradually returning magic. “Are you quite ready?” Celestia asked, instinctively spreading her wings as if to protect Twilight from the poisonous magic before them. “You are familiar with what needs to be done?” “Float you an empty gemstone every time one gets full. Keep you from passing out. Make sure our magic doesn't touch. Yeah, I think I'm ready.” “Good. Then let's get this over with as quickly as we can, so we can return to Canterlot. I am quite tired.” There was no use hesitating any longer. Celestia let loose with the dwindling magic she had, but the moment she made contact with the Sunstone's glass case it clung to her with determination and fury. She cried out in surprise and her focus wavered, only for a moment. The first gemstone fell from her telekinesis and onto the carpeted floor, but in an instant it was floating back up in a purple aura. Breathing heavily, she did her best to calm herself and resume control. She grabbed the gemstone just as Twilight's aura disappeared and it began to fall. The gemstone was glowing first with her yellow magic, and then with magic of a sickening greenish tint. With a surprised blink, Celestia realized the gemstone had not changed at all, but rather everything had taken on a greenish tint. She blinked her good eye rapidly, feeling as though she had gotten smoke into it, and yet she knew it was quite the obvious. From the corner of her eye she could see the green billowing indicators of dark magic coursing through her. Her heart beat rapidly, spreading blood that would only be wasted by the gashes in her sides. Celestia groaned and brought a hoof to her bleeding wound, pressing her leg firmly against her chest in a futile attempt to try and keep it closed. Luna's magic was too much, she felt as though her world was ending, her mind was ending, she could not see or hear anything and yet still her heartbeat pounded onwards. It was in her ears, in her mind, she wished only for it to stop and yet— “Princess! Take the gemstone!” She blinked. A new, empty gemstone was floating beside one venting the same greenish smoke. She took it without hesitation, easing her mind back into focus. It filled as the other had. The dark magic flowed through her, and even despite the chaotic stabs of pain, her mind was now calm enough to give the flow a direction. The second gemstone filled, and by time she took the third her heartbeat was less of a deafening drumbeat drowning out all other sound. Still, her head felt heavy. Celestia felt dizzy, as though unconsciousness was creeping up on her. She could have sworn Twilight had said something, but it sounded as though it had come from a mile away. A droning, high-pitched ringing sound had replaced her persistent heartbeat, as though an explosion had just ruptured her ears. Her breathing was drowned out, Twilight's words were muffled, and somewhere in the chaos Celestia could have sworn she had heard Nightmare Moon say something, too. By the end of the fourth gemstone, the ringing had drowned out all other sound. By the fifth, her eyesight had joined her hearing, leaving her in a black abyss of high-pitched nothingness. Unconsciousness was creeping up on her once again. She lazily dropped the fifth gemstone, attempted to grab the sixth, and dropped it, too. She collapsed first against the pedestal and then onto the ground, and then even the ringing was silencing. As the last of her consciousness vanished, she thought she had heard Twilight screaming something, but before the mare could finish her incoherent sentence, the princess of the sun was gone.