Heat Death

by ScottTrek

The Darkest Hour (Part 1)

Twilight slowly made her way towards the darkness, staff steadily tapping against the obsidian floor. She was in no rush and wasn't going to give Shadow the satisfaction of watching her panic or rush. The staff she was using to prop herself up appeared to be no more than a simple length of gnarled wood; a knotted tree branch ended with a chunk of dull purple glass.

It hurt to look where she was going so she simply let her feet carry her onward. She suspected it barely mattered. No doubt Shadow would have made the structure twist and turn just to mess with her. A final act of petty mind games before the end.

Twilight didn't care.

She just kept walking. Not speaking, not looking up, not wavering. She just just kept putting one hoof in front of the other. Apart from the steady patter of her hooves and the rhythmic tap of her staff the only sounds that could be were discordant ephemeral whispers echoing through the halls and the occasional splatter of blood leaking from her bandaged head and wings.

Twilight just kept walking.

Eventually Shadow seemed to have enough; and Twilight found herself stepping into what appeared to be some kind of office, not unlike the countless libraries she had lived and frequented over the millennia.

And there sitting upon his throne was Shadow. He wore the form much more contained than the last she could remember. A grey alicorn stallion no larger than herself; he almost looked normal until Twilight caught his gaze. The eyes of shadow were beyond black, its was like staring into cold dark antimatter.

Eyes that wanted to eat the universe.

"Shadow."

"Twilight."

"You're a bastard."