XXIX: Choices
“Is it true that you beat all those monsters by yourself?”
Celestia pondered Cotton’s question. Facts mixed with speculation, and sometimes she did not know which was which. The memories of the battle had been steadily returning to her over the past few days, but sometimes they were hazy and out of order.
“Just the ones that were near me.”
“Is it true you caught on fire?”
“Sort of.”
“But that didn’t hurt you?”
“Not really.” Celestia looked away, biting on her lip. “I mean, I wasn’t actually on fire. I think it was more-”
“But you were!” Cotton exclaimed. “Is it true you were so hot you could roast marshmallows just by looking at them?”
“Cotton…”
“I’ll bet you could roast a hundred marshmallows without even trying!”
“Cotton.”
“No, maybe a hundred thousand!” Cotton’s eyes lit up. She twisted away from Celestia’s cot, reaching for something out of her vision.
“Here!” she exclaimed, producing a fluffy white marshmallow and offering it to her. “Roast this one!”
Celestia stared at Cotton’s gift, the marshmallow sitting in the center of her extended hoof. Where it had come from, she had no idea. She had always assumed Cotton carried mostly tools in her saddlebags. She craned her head over her bedside, peering at the bags lying nearby. They were plump, filled to the brim with marshmallows, making them look more like pillows than saddlebags.
Cotton was beaming.
Celestia rolled her eyes. “No.”
“Aw,” Cotton’s grin shrank into a tiny frown. She popped the marshmallow into her mouth and chewed it sadly.
Celestia suddenly felt guilty as she watched the little mare eat in silence, her lips smacking together as she chewed with pronounced effort. It occurred to her that Cotton did not actually expect her to roast it, but only wanted to see a smile.
“Well fine!” Cotton huffed, swallowing the mouthful and producing another marshmallow from her bags. “I’ll do it myself!”
Celestia watched with mild apprehension as Cotton’s horn began to glow. The marshmallow rose into the air, spinning. Cotton’s face scrunched in concentration, her eyes squinting, her tongue stuck out.
The marshmallow began to spin faster and rise farther. Celestia stared up at it, then glanced back at Cotton.
“Now just a teensy bit of fire magic-”
The marshmallow burst.
It was only a tiny noise, a sort of hissing pop, but Celestia yelped all the same. A hot, gooey mess of sugar fell out of the air and plopped lamely onto the floor.
There was a pause as both Celestia and Cotton stared at where the treat had been, before Cotton burst out into giggles. Celestia could not help but follow suit.
A moment later, Celestia glanced up as a pair of doctors trotted by the open door, conversing in hushed tones with each other. They glanced in her room as they passed, but kept moving. The sound of distant activity echoed down the stone hallways. Celestia remembered where she was, and her laughter faded.
Miraculously, Manehattan’s city hospital had been preserved, and it was now filled to overflowing by casualties from the battle. Celestia, however, had been confined and quarantined away from the others, made to occupy a small private room of her own. It would remain that way until they had confirmed that, in the words of Clover the Clever, she “was no longer a danger to herself and others.”
She could understand that, and even thought it was a good idea. However, she quickly realized entertainment was low on the list of priorities. More than half of the Equestrian army was camped in and around Manehattan. In the wake of one of the war’s most devastating battles yet, there were things to be done: wounded that needed tending to, civilians that needed care, bodies that needed to be counted, recorded, and buried. And though Discord’s hordes had vacated the city, the huge urban island was far from secured.
And so, Celestia had largely been left alone. Three days had come and gone, and she had still seen neither hide nor hair of Clover. The four drab stone walls of her tiny room began to grate upon her. The room’s only window had been broken and boarded up, allowing little natural light into the room. A steady drip, drip came from the leaky ceiling in one corner of the room.
At least the cot was comfortable.
Celestia welcomed the reprieve visitors brought from the dreary boredom. Cotton was left with little spare time – she was very busy helping repair the army’s more complex devices – but she came as often as she could. Apple Crumble visited too, and even Lucky checked in on her from time to time. “Just making sure you’re doing well,” he had said once. Celestia found herself wishing his visits would last longer; she would have liked to speak with him.
Many of her other fellow soldiers visited her as well. Their conversations were amiable enough, but word soon got out. It was not an angel, nor an avatar of the gods that had helped them. It was her. And so, in almost every case, the conversation turned to…
“Sho, I tink you need uh nickname,” Cotton said, popping another marshmallow into her mouth. “Yur not jus’ a hero, yur like a… like a legend! Like a demigod, like in da shtories!”
“A demigod?” Celestia said hesitantly. “I don’t know about that.”
Cotton did not seem to hear her. “What about…” She paused to swallow, and licked her lips. “What about ‘the Pyromancer of… of Doom!”
Celestia wanted to grimace, but could not help but smile at Cotton’s enthusiasm.
“Ooo! Or how about, ‘the Blazing Terror of Canterlot’! Or, or how about,” Cotton’s voice took on the mock tone of an announcer, “‘The Fire Wrangler!’”
“I think I like my name how it is.”
“Oh, no, wait, I’ve got it!” Cotton leapt up to Celestia’s bedside, and maneuvered an arm around her neck, pulling them together until they were cheek-to-cheek.
“‘Celestia, the Living Bonfire!’” she exclaimed, thrusting her other hoof into the air, sweeping it across their vision as if to showcase an imaginary title hanging above them.
Celestia began to laugh again despite herself. “Cotton, I don’t want ponies to call me anything except-”
A voice came from the other side of the room. “Some are calling you ‘the Phoenix.’”
Clover the Clever entered, brushing the door curtain behind her. Celestia’s head spun around, eyes wide. How long had she been standing there?
“‘The Phoenix of the 21st’. An interesting title, to say the least.”
The old pony’s gait was, as usual, slow and methodical, showing her age more clearly than the wrinkles on her face. Yet, for some reason Celestia could not put her hoof on, she looked older and more frail than ever. She walked with a hesitancy that Celestia had only seen a few times before, as if at any moment the wrong movement would break her. For a pony so elderly, Clover had always seemed rather spry to Celestia, moving with energy that ill befit her age.
Now, that energy was gone. Celestia was almost shocked to see that in its place was pure, simple exhaustion. Had those lines always been under Clover’s eyes? Had her wrinkles always been that deep?
Rather than her usual mage’s cloak, Clover had a simple drab blanket draped over her shoulders and back. Celestia’s eyes narrowed. Beneath the cloak, she saw something that looked very much like a long cut.
Clover coughed pointedly, and drew her blanket-cloak tighter. Celestia blushed, and drew her eyes away. The old mage drew closer to the cot. Cotton stepped back a bit to give them space.
Exhaustion lingered on Clover’s breath as she spoke.
“How are you, Celestia?”
“Fine,” she blurted out.
Clover raised an eyebrow, and stared. Celestia could not meet her gaze, staring just slightly to the left at the wall behind her.
“Is that so?”
Celestia nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on the wall behind Clover. Truthfully, she was not sure. She felt Clover’s eyes upon her, studying her for a moment more, before speaking again.
“I am glad to see you in good health,” Clover said. A moment passed. “Do you remember what happened?”
Celestia was surprised. She had known this conversation was coming, but she expected at least a little more small talk beforehand – perhaps some tea and more accommodating quarters. Time was a precious commodity, she supposed, and comfort in Manehattan was in short supply.
“Yes… at least I think so.”
Clover nodded. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Celestia’s lips became a grimace. Her eyes flicked downward and she slouched a little further into her cot.
“I’d rather not,” she muttered. After a moment, she added, “I haven’t been in this room the whole time, you know. I know the soldiers are talking about it.” She looked back at Clover. “Surely you must already know what happened, too?”
Clover tilted her head. “Perhaps I do. But I would like to hear it from you.”
“It’s a little hazy…”
“I understand,” Clover said softly. “Just start from the beginning.”
Celestia’s expression wavered as she considered it. Finally, she rolled over onto her side, maneuvering out of her cot. She stretched, as if she were preparing for a training exercise. Some of her joints popped in their sockets. She then turned to face Clover and Cotton. They were both watching expectantly.
Celestia drew in a deep breath, and exhaled.
“There was some trouble on the airship,” she said. “We were ready to storm drop from above and rescue the civilians in Manehattan, but it never happened. The sinisteeds were waiting for us in the clouds. We were ambushed. Our secret plan wasn’t… wasn’t so secret.”
Cotton popped another marshmallow into her mouth, chewing it quietly, and offered one to Clover, who politely declined. She then removed her saddlebags and set one beneath herself, the contents making for an excellent cushion. She offered her other saddlebag to Clover, who, after glancing around the room and seeing no other furniture, accepted. She slowly lowered her haunches onto the makeshift seat, and nodded her silent thanks to Cotton.
“There were too many to fight. We had to abandon the airship to escape. I don’t know how many ponies made it.” Celestia’s eyes lowered. “Not all of them.”
Celestia wandered over to the window and peered through the boards at a courtyard a few stories below. Physicians and soldiers shouted, rushing this way and that, tending to numerous tents filled with wounded. The faint clamor of hoofsteps, shouted orders, and moans of the injured filled the silence of Celestia’s room.
“I’m not exactly sure how it happened after that. I think I was the first one on the ground, but my landing didn’t go very well. The enchantment that was supposed to help me cushion my impact had already dissipated, and I… I think I hit the side of a building, or…” She paused, and shook her head. “We found one of the spots where the civilians were hiding. An old church. A number of pegasi regrouped there. The plan had been to escort them out from there, but at that point, we stood no chance, scattered and disorganized as we were. We barricaded the door, and readied to make a stand.”
“How many were with you?” Clover asked.
Celestia looked up in thought. “I don’t remember. Maybe a dozen. Lighting Sky was there, plus some others he had managed to round up, myself included. And there were civilians in the basement. I never saw how many.”
Clover slowly nodded, and motioned for her to continue.
“My condition was bad, to say the least. I was injured and helpless. I remember slipping in and out of consciousness. There was a lot going on. I’m not sure what was real and what was in my mind.” A distant expression took over Celestia’s features. “I remember fevered dreams. I saw things I didn’t understand. Places I’ve never been. Ponies I never knew. And for some reason, I was so… so angry about it all. In that moment, through all of the fear and pain and confusion, I hated the enemy like I never hated them before. I wanted blood. And revenge.”
Celestia stopped, realizing her voice had gotten a little louder. She glanced back at Clover and Cotton, who were listening intently.
Celestia cleared her throat. “It didn’t take long for the sinisteeds to break in. And then I-” She paused, looking back at the window. “Then I…”
Clover waited.
“Something happened,” Celestia eventually managed. “I changed somehow.” She looked back. “I don’t know how to describe it.”
A hint of sympathy played across Clover’s features. “It’s okay, dear. Take your time.”
The silence was thick. Celestia pressed her lips into a thin line, looking for her next words.
“All those emotions – the hatred, the rage – they just kept building within me. Building within me so greatly I thought I was going to die. But then I found a way to release it. It was like… like a cup, filled to overflowing. Fire spilled from inside of me and into reality.”
“Or like a balloon!” Cotton suddenly chimed in. “Fill it with too much air, and…” With her hooves she mimed a balloon getting bigger and bigger in the air.
“And then,” Celestia continued, “the change happened.”
Cotton made a popping sound with her lips as her imaginary balloon burst.
“That’s the best I can explain it,” Celestia said apologetically, addressing Clover.
“That’s okay.” Clover nodded. “Do you remember anything after that?”
“I do, mostly. In comparison to the memories before that, I can recall what happened then surprisingly well. The memories of what I did are vivid, but focused, as if I had blinders on. The monsters I fought, the things I felt… I remember them with clarity, but they’re the only things I remember. I just wanted to kill everything.” She paused. “All of the monsters, I mean. So I did.”
“And you single-hoofedly turned the tide of the whole battle!” Cotton exclaimed.
Celestia smiled weakly. “Yes, well. I suppose so.”
Clover’s tone was less enthusiastic. “You did not seem to exhibit much control.”
Celestia’s smile faded. “No. I suppose not.”
“And, nearing the end of your rampage, you attacked your own commander.”
“‘Rampage’ isn’t how I would…” Celestia drifted off. “Well, I am sorry for that. Lucky attacked me first, though.”
“No he didn’t,” Clover said.
Celestia blinked. “He didn’t?” Her brows furrowed. “Yes he did.”
“No,” Clover said firmly. “You are remembering it wrong.”
“Oh.” Celestia bit her lip. “He must have gotten in my line of fire.”
Clover raised an eyebrow.
Celestia lowered her eyes. “I remember fighting him. I’m not sure how it happened, but I don’t think I meant to.”
“Was it because you lost control?” Clover asked, an edge creeping into her voice.
“No,” Celestia looked up. “I mean, I did have some control. Not precision, perhaps, but control. It was like I was compelled forward. I could turn in any direction, but I was always moving, always fighting, always needing to stoke the fire – but I would never attack an ally.”
“But you did.”
“It was an accident,” Celestia said.
“And what would have happened when there were no more enemies to fight?” Clover demanded. “Would you have continued to ‘burn’?”
Celestia lifted one hoof off the ground, drawing away. “I would have stopped fighting. I would have burnt out. Of course I would have. What else would I have done?”
Clover searched Celestia with scathing eyes, holding herself as though ready to continue the tirade. Celestia waited, but they never came. Her gaze flicked back and forth between the old mare’s eyes, watching the wrinkles around them become deeper.
Eventually, Clover drew her gaze away, and sighed. Her features relaxed.
“Forgive me,” Clover said, a slow decisiveness returning to her voice. “It has been a difficult time, and even I am not immune to the stress of war. I am not here to bring accusations against you, Celestia. What happened was beyond your control and comprehension. I am only trying to better understand this turn of events. I am only trying to divine the truth.”
Celestia slowly returned her hoof to the ground.
“I don’t know the truth.”
Clover merely hummed, nodding in accord.
“Do you, Clover?”
She gave no reaction.
“I know you seek understanding,” Celestia said quietly. “I do as well. Yet something tells me you have a greater understanding already.”
Clover said nothing. Her eyes were closed, her expression unreadable.
“What happened to me does not happen to ordinary ponies.” Celestia took a step forward. “And I understand that I am not ordinary. I’m an alicorn. It feels like I am constantly learning new and unexpected things about myself. But this was something else. It was inside me. It was more than discovering a new ability, more than reaching new potential. It was some fundamental part of me that, until now, lay dormant. And I don’t know why. And it confuses me. I’ve never known what being an alicorn is supposed to mean. But you…” Celestia’s eyes were pleading. “You brought me here, with a spell of your own making. You must know something.”
Celestia paused, waiting for a response. There was none.
“Clover. Please. What happened to me?”
Another moment passed in silence.
Eventually, Clover opened her eyes. Seeing them, Celestia was again reminded of the Master-Adept’s age.
“Oh, dear,” she whispered, speaking to herself, “What I would not give for a pot of tea right now.”
“I can make some,” Cotton offered.
“No, my dear,” Clover spoke, shaking her head. “Thank you, but no. I’ll not delay any longer.”
Celestia’s gaze softened as she watched the old mage stand. Her legs seemed to tremble as she set them against the ground and pushed. When she was fully upright, she seemed to sway for a bit. A military camp, Celestia remarked, is no place for a pony of her age.
One hoof at a time, Clover took a few steps backward, then put one hoof on the makeshift cushion, kicking it towards Celestia.
“Please,” Clover said, “take a seat.”
Cautiously, Celestia pushed on the cushion with a hoof, testing it, then slowly eased her haunches upon it. Without standing, Cotton scooted across the floor until they were sitting next to each other. Together they waited for the Master-Adept to say something.
Clover gave them both a scrutinizing look, then looked toward the doorway, her horn glowing. The curtain hanging across the doorway was drawn shut, enveloped in a swathe of purple magic. A screen of magic appeared over the closed door, spanning from top to bottom, distorting the image like uneven glass until it came to rest.
“An enchantment for privacy,” Clover explained. She looked toward the window, horn still glowing.
Celestia looked over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of another screen appearing over the window, shimmering briefly before becoming nearly invisible.
The glow of Clover’s horn faded away, and she looked at Celestia.
“The things you are about to hear must never leave this room.”
The dull background noise of doctors and soldiers was completely gone. Celestia had not noticed how loud it really was until the only sounds she could hear were her own shuffling hooves and the steady drip of the leaky ceiling in the corner of the room.
Clover turned towards Cotton.
“You are here, Cotton, as Celestia’s friend,” she said, wagging a hoof at the little mare. “In any other circumstance, I would ask you to leave. But given your attitude in the past, I trust that you can handle this information with maturity and discretion. And,” she added after a pause, “I believe it will be beneficial for Celestia to have friends that… understand her.”
Cotton smiled, opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off.
“Nevertheless,” Clover suddenly started, her gaze becoming deeper, “this is privileged information. Few ponies besides myself are privy to it. This is the way it should be kept. Do you understand?”
The smile faded from Cotton’s face. She looked at Clover, then towards Celestia, then back, and solemnly nodded.
Clover shifted her gaze towards Celestia. “And the same goes for you, dear.”
“Why is it such a secret?” Celestia said. “I don’t understand.”
Clover pursed her lips. “You will.”
Celestia tilted her head.
“Very well,” she eventually said, nodding.
At this, Clover drew herself up, cleared her throat, and assumed a teacher’s posture. Celestia recognized it as easily as any battle stance; and it was just as poised. Sure enough, Clover began to slowly pace back and forth, a habit Celestia had become familiar with when first being tutored in the ways of magic. Just as habitually, Celestia’s own posture straightened, and her ears perked forward.
Clover cleared her throat once again.
“Celestia,” she began, then paused. She stopped, looked up, tapping a hoof on her chin. Celestia had never seen the old teacher consider her wording so carefully.
“Celestia,” Clover began again, resuming her slow pacing. “To understand this phenomenon, you must first understand that ponies are magical creatures. Magic is a part us, and we are a part of it. What is traditionally considered ‘magic’, a unicorn’s ability to manipulate their surroundings, is merely a certain kind of magic; not greater or lesser, simply easier to discern and classify. Because of this, non-unicorn races are considered by many to be non-magical.” Clover stopped briefly and looked at Celestia, her eyes gleaming. “This is simply not true.”
A moment passed, and she resumed pacing.
“Indeed, all ponies are magical, unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies alike. No mere creations of flesh and bone are we. Woven into the fiber of every pony on this earth is magic. It binds us to ourselves and each other, invisible threads spun by the gods themselves, ordered and organized, but infinitely complex. And while there are commonalities between us all, the magic housed within each pony is unique in at least some small way.”
Clover’s horn began to glow. From the corner of the room, a small globe of water came hovering towards her, drawn from the small puddle where the ceiling was leaking. The globe hovered undisturbed before her, a perfect sphere.
“Unicorns have telekinesis, spells, connections to the celestial bodies. Pegasi can touch cloudstuff, control weather, and fly. Earth ponies have innate strength; plant and animal life grow in concert with their will. All of these are basic, general examples of magic. To you, they may seem mundane; yet they are nothing short of miracles.”
The watery sphere broke its shape, siphoning into a thin, flowing ribbon. Clover effortlessly manipulated it into a figure eight. Celestia watched with interest and admiration as it flowed endlessly in the air, hovering in place while Clover paced back and forth.
“A creature of mere biology would never be enough to replicate these effects. Give an earth pony the wings of a pegasus, and he would still never lift himself off of the ground. In fact, there was once an old mage who managed to conjure for herself wings of flesh and blood - but because she lacked a pegasus’s magic, a pegasus’s essence, if you will, they were vestigial, and practically useless.”
The figure eight gradually separated into two separate but interlocked rings, flowing opposite directions. Clover did not seem to pay it much mind, idly manipulating it as she spoke.
“Yet,” Clover continued, “all of these things are but after-effects, flickering shadows cast upon the wall of reality. The true nature of this magic is within us. One might call it the ‘soul.’”
“The soul?”
Clover nodded. “Indeed,” she said, her voice lowering. “It is the magic we are made of, and it has everything to do with not only what we are, but who we are. Abilities, personalities, emotions, and even cutie marks and special talents all paint a picture of a pony’s soul.”
Clover stopped pacing, looking back at her audience. Celestia wore a confused frown on her face. Cotton’s eyes twinkled with wonder – she was enamored with Clover’s display of telekinetic prowess.
“I admit, this is all highly theoretical,” Clover said, volume returning to her voice. “It is difficult to know the true nature of the soul, or if it really even exists as we understand it. There is not much written on the subject – and if you cared to look, you’d find many studies to be written by myself. Indeed, it is like trying to describe something by only seeing its shadow. Or like guessing at the shape of a chandelier, if you could only see the light it scattered about the room.”
“I’m not sure I understand. What does this have to do with me?”
At this, Clover frowned. She tapped a hoof on her chin, as if she was not sure what it had to do with Celestia at all. Eventually, she gave a weary smile.
“Ah, well,” she said, weakly chuckling, “That is the question, is it not? What indeed.”
Celestia gave Clover a slightly withering look, though the old mare appeared not to notice.
“I apologize. It is difficult to explain this without also discussing magical theory,” Clover said, “And as much as I would enjoy pursuing this line of conversation, I do not expect you would fully appreciate it.”
“Perhaps not,” Celestia muttered, then added, “Though I always appreciate your tutelage.”
Clover gave a humble nod, and continued. “The point is that though magic is at the core of all ponies, it manifests itself in only the most subtle of ways.”
“But what I experienced was not exactly subtle,” Celestia said pointedly.
“Indeed,” Clover said. “What you experienced was the Nightmare.”
“I guess it was rather frightening.”
“No.” Clover shook her head. “I do not mean to say that you experienced a frightful vision whilst you were asleep, nor am I referring metaphorically to the troubling circumstances of the battle.”
There was a pause. Clover’s levitating ribbon of water unraveled itself, twisting through the air as it returned to the corner of the room. There was a tiny plink as it splashed back to the floor.
“It was not a nightmare. It was the Nightmare.”
Celestia’s narrowed eyes locked with Clover’s. She hesitated before she spoke. “I don’t get it,” she said, shaking her head.
“I know, my dear,” Clover said softly. “I scarcely comprehend it myself. This is the kind of phenomenon that could only be explored in theories, hearsay, and myths. Until recently.”
A strand of pink hair floated in front of Celestia’s vision. She swept it away with a hoof.
“What do bad dreams have to do with what happened to me?”
“Nightmares,” Clover corrected. “Not just bad dreams. It has also been called the ‘deep fear’ by those who have studied it. And it is exactly that: a pony’s deepest, darkest fear.”
Celestia watched as Clover resumed pacing.
“Every pony, no matter how brave or spirited or cheerful, has a Nightmare,” Clover said. “It is whatever that pony fears most, the one situation in which they hope never to find themselves; a particular set of circumstances and emotions that produce fear beyond fear.”
Celestia glanced left. Beside her, Cotton was merely nodding. Celestia could not tell if she was actually understanding or not.
“A pony may not even realize what their Nightmare is until they are forced to confront it.” Clover looked at Celestia with a piercing gaze. “However, when they are, they will do everything, everything in their power to prevent it from coming true.”
Celestia nodded diligently, making mental notes of everything Clover said.
“Most of the time, this means a change in behavior. A pony may take drastic measures they would otherwise never take. Their entire personality may appear to alter in response to the Nightmare, as a way of coping with it; either to protect against it, or to soften the blow when it inevitably comes. Responses vary widely, from pony to pony, but they are, all of them…” Clover paused, searching for the right word. “Unhealthy,” she finally settled on.
“This is all very vague.”
“Indeed it is,” Clover said. “You would be right to be skeptical of the very existence of what I am describing. It is difficult to observe, and indeed, difficult to report on because in most ponies, it is a subtle, seemingly natural change.”
“But Celestia isn’t most ponies!” Cotton happily chimed in.
Clover gravely nodded. “Indeed not. When a being of exceptional power experiences their Nightmare…” She paused and looked at Celestia. “Their reaction can be a world-shaking event. There are stories of mighty ponies of all kinds being brought low because of their Nightmare – and the world is brought low with them.
“Princess Winter Wind, grieving her lost family, forged a link between Tartarus to the waking world. Paladin Gold Leaf prevented the sun from rising, against the will of thousands of unicorns. It is said that Rocksalt III became the Foal Mountains. All myths, to be sure, but…”
Celestia looked down and away, suddenly self-conscious.
“I’ve never felt like a being of ‘exceptional power,’” she muttered.
“Trust me when I say,” Clover answered, “that you are.”
Celestia hesitated. “So you’re saying I was scared,” she said, “and reacted by unleashing some hidden power?”
“In a way,” Clover said slowly. “But you were not simply scared. A pony’s Nightmare is the very essence of true fear. It runs deeper than the simplicity of death or pain. It is connected to the soul, the magic at our core. More than terrors in the night, more than even the most horrifying of Discord’s monsters, the Nightmare is contrary to a pony’s very being. It is a combination of mental, emotional, and physical stress unique to every pony – a hypothetical point that would not simply destroy somepony, but undo them completely.
“In some ways, the Nightmare bears resemblance to the way Discord profanes ponies to control them. Indeed, I believe the two are very closely related.
“As such, most ponies never encounter their Nightmare. Such a mind-breaking situation is rare, to say the least. Most do not even know what their deepest fear is, and those who experience it may not even understand what it was afterwards. And when it does happen, usually it is not so terribly drastic; the problem is often corrected before things become get too out-of-hoof.
“But you, Celestia, in this and so many other things, are different.”
Celestia pondered, still not looking at Clover. She shuffled a hoof along the floor, drawing patterns in the stone.
“So I became the… ‘Phoenix’… because my worst nightmare was coming true?” she said quietly.
“That is one way to describe it, yes.”
“And what was my Nightmare about?”
“Who can say? It was a highly stressful situation. It could have been caused by any number of things. Perhaps you afraid to let down your comrades, or you felt you would fail to fulfill your purpose as a soldier. The cause of a Nightmare is always very complex, and very personal; the only person who could truly know of its nature is you.”
A moment passed. Celestia’s mane draped over her eyes, obscuring them. Her expression was a mask. If Clover could see gears of thought turning in Celestia’s head, her face was indifferent nonetheless.
“So, what now?” Celestia finally said.
“What now?” Clover said. “Well, despite the incident, you seem to be making a rapid recovery. Still, I would suggest some rest from the weariness of war. Gods know you need it, and after your traumatic experience, you would likely be granted leave if you asked. With careful study, we may eventually know what exactly caused your Nightmare, so that we may keep it under control.”
“Can it be kept under control?”
“I am certain there is something we can do,” Clover said evenly. “If we try hard enough.”
“And then?”
“And then…?” Clover repeated. “And then we will move on, dear.”
Celestia gave a small nod, considering the notion. Clover allowed silence to fill the air, waiting patiently for a response.
Eventually, Celestia spoke. “There’s something that still doesn’t make sense to me.”
“Oh?” Clover said, eyebrow arched. “What is that?”
Celestia looked up.
“You say we should ‘keep it under control’,” she said, looking at Clover. “I agree. We should. But the way you talk of it makes it sound… impossible.”
Clover seemed to have a response ready, but something about the look in Celestia’s eyes and the poise with which she spoke must have made her hesitate. She watched Celestia stand and walk away from them towards the room’s far wall, purpose in her steps. Once she was a small distance away, she turned around and looked at Clover and Cotton, taking a deep breath.
“Ever since the Nightmare, I’ve felt… something, inside of me,” she said. “Like it’s still there. Or like it always was, and I didn’t realize it.”
Clover cast her an anxious, questioning look. “Celestia?”
She continued. “I’ve been experimenting when nopony is around, and…”
Celestia paused, and raised one arm, bringing her hoof to hover at eye level. She took another deep breath and held it in her lungs, her eyes narrowed and focused on her hoof. All was silent, save for the water dripping in the corner of the room.
Seconds passed.
Cotton’s cushion rustled as she leaned in.
A spark…
Clover took a cautious step forward.
A flicker…
“What’s she doing?” Cotton whispered loudly. “Is it magic? Her horn isn’t even glowing.”
A bead of sweat rolled down Celestia’s cheek. She could feel the strain building.
And then…
A tiny fire sprang to life, clinging to the tip of Celestia’s hoof like a flame to a candle wick.
Celestia released her breath in one great gasp. The flame flickered as it caught the gust, but it did not go out. She watched it, rolling her hoof left and right, watching the little tongue of flame sway and quiver with the motion. A shaky smile came to her face.
“I think,” she said, the fire’s orange gleam playing through her eyes, “I already have it under control.”
After a moment, she looked up and offered her hoof forward so they could see it. Celestia’s smile disappeared as she noticed the reactions of her audience; Cotton, usually delighted at little displays of magic, seemed dismayed; and Clover looked horrified.
Celestia frowned. She took a step forward, offering a closer look. Clover flinched.
“What is this?” the old mare asked in a near-whisper, her voice hoarse and hurried.
“The ‘Nightmare,’ I think,” Celestia said, pulling her burning hoof back towards herself. “With some concentration, I can recreate it.” She again focused on her hoof. The flame began to grow, spreading across the flat area of her hoof. “I should be able to use it in battle.”
“You-” Clover stammered. “You- you-”
Celestia looked up at Clover with concern. Her whole body was recoiled away from her, shock etched into every line upon her old, wrinkled face. Celestia had never seen the seasoned mage so agitated; nor had she ever seen her at such a loss for words.
“You cannot!” Clover suddenly shouted. For a moment, the thin, magical privacy screens across the door and window seemed to pulse with energy. “You must not!”
Celestia started at Clover’s exclamation, taken aback at its forcefulness. “But-”
“Put it out! Now!”
Celestia stared at her mentor with worry. After another moment, she walked to the corner of the room and rested her burning hoof into the shallow puddle. There was a quiet sizzle. A mix of smoke and steam rose from the ground. She looked back.
Clover still seemed to be in shock, staring at Celestia’s hoof with wide eyes.
“How long have you been able to do that?” she demanded.
Celestia recoiled at the steel in her voice. “A few days,” she said defensively. “There’s not much to do in this room by myself. I was pondering about what happened, and-”
“And what?” Clover interrupted, her frantic voice a near shout. “You thought you would do it again? Here, in the middle of a hospital? Purposefully trigger your Nightmare and set the place ablaze?”
“I…” Celestia hesitated. She never expected to see Clover’s wrath directed at her, and she had not been prepared for it. “No. I mean, the first time was an accident, just a little flame like I showed you. I tried it again, and found if I concentrated, I could do it again. I kept practicing until I could spread it across my arm. And,” she quickly added, seeing Clover’s expression become even more distressed, “I was able to sequester the flame without any water! It dies out when I want it to.”
“Your arm?” Clover repeated. “Your entire arm?”
Celestia nodded.
“Celestia,” Clover said, “dear. Tell me you did not go further than that.”
“No! Of course not. I wouldn’t do that here.” Celestia looked away. “So… I practiced on the banks of the Manehattan Channel.”
A moment of silence passed between them.
“You snuck out of the hospital?”
“I didn’t ‘sneak out’,” Celestia said defensively. “I’m not a prisoner here.”
“You know you are supposed to stay-” Clover cut herself off, putting a hoof to her forehead. “What were you able to do? How far did the flame spread?”
Celestia mumbled something.
“I’m sorry?” Clover said.
“My whole body.”
Clover blinked. Her mouth opened to say something, but nothing came out.
“I was just like before,” Celestia hesitantly continued, after seeing Clover had nothing to say. “All wreathed in flames like I was. It made me stronger, faster, gave me endless endurance. I had control over the fire; I could use it to help me fly, I could attack with it, breathe it like a dragon, things like that.”
Clover did not reply.
“I didn’t practice for that long. Half an hour at most.”
Still nothing.
“Then I returned here. That was last night.”
Celestia glanced at Cotton.
“And I’ve been recovering just fine since then.”
She took half a step forward.
“Clover?”
Clover seemed to sag with defeat, even more so than when she had entered. She did not simply appear tired; her vacant eyes and swaying balance made her appear to be on the verge of collapse.
“Everything we worked for…” she muttered. Her eyes seemed distant.
A moment passed. Cotton inconspicuously scooted herself away from the conversation, no longer enjoying being in the center of it. Soon she was in the corner of the room, watching both parties with deep concern.
“Celestia,” Clover started, her voice strained, “You must not continue along this path. No good thing can come of it.”
Celestia met Clover’s gaze. “Why not?” she asked.
Clover just closed her eyes, and shook her head. For some reason, this irritated Celestia.
“I haven’t seen the reports,” Celestia said, “I don’t know how many soldiers we committed to the fight, or how many we lost. I don’t know if we would have won or lost. But I know the outcome was as decisive as it was because of me. Because of my powers. How can that be a bad thing?”
“If ever I have given you reason to trust me, Celestia,” Clover said emphatically, “now is the time I call upon that trust. You must take my word on this. The Nightmare is not a thing you can use like a tool. To continue using these ‘powers’, as you call them, is to invite ill fortune of a magnitude you have never seen.”
Celestia pursed her lips. She was no stranger to being defiant, but she had never anticipated the day she would want to defy Clover the Clever – the calmest, smartest, wisest pony she knew.
But Clover was a reasonable pony, was she not? Celestia could not understand why Clover was responding this way.
“With all due respect, Master Clover,” she said, trying to stay level-headed, “how could you know that? You’ve told me several times that this is all theoretical. Despite describing the nature of the Nightmare in great detail, there’s no way you can be that sure about it. Because all those myths, they’re exactly that: they’re myths, nothing more. This whole ‘Nightmare’ business may not be even be what happened at all. This could just be my innate power as an alicorn. You don’t know.”
“I do know.”
“How?” Celestia asked. “How could you know that?”
The question hung in the air like a challenge.
Clover closed her eyes, sat upon her haunches, and sighed. It was a tired sound.
Celestia realized there were the beginnings of a snarl etched onto her own face. She wrinkled her nose, and it was gone.
“Please sit down, Celestia,” Clover eventually murmured.
She considered further defiance, but after a moment, Celestia complied, levitating the marshmallow-filled saddlebag towards herself and sitting upon it without breaking her gaze.
“Your situation is not as unique as you believe.”
Clover’s horn glowed and the privacy screens briefly glimmered, renewed with energy. She opened her eyes, returning Celestia’s stare.
“You are not the first alicorn.”
Celestia scowled. “I know that. I know the stories of the alicorns who migrated away from Equestria and vanished in the east. Behind the Astral Mountains, the same place from where Discord’s beasts endlessly emerge. It’s why alicorns had such a bad reputation.” A haughty smile crept onto her face. “Until I redeemed it for them. In any case, I’ve heard the story a dozen times from a dozen different ponies. I know my legacy.”
“I do not think you do, Celestia,” Clover said evenly.
“And I suppose you do?” Celestia said, not kindly.
Clover nodded. “Indeed. You misunderstood me. I am not referring to the alicorns of old. Your ‘legacy’ has far less to do with them than you might imagine. Your true forerunners were more… recent.”
“May we dispense with the riddles?” Celestia said. She noticed her voice tinged with a familiar contempt – it sounded a lot like Lucky.
Clover’s eyebrow twitched. She heard it too. Regardless, she continued.
“You were summoned, Celestia,” Clover began, her voice rising. “Brought here through means of magic to aid Equestria in its time of need. But you were not the first alicorn to be summoned by the Royal Magi.”
There was a moment of heavy silence.
“What do you mean?”
“As I have told you before,” Clover said, “I discovered a spell that would allow us to summon an alicorn. Not the fictitious caricatures of evil of foals’ tales, but something like a true alicorn; intelligent and powerful, capable of understanding things beyond the comprehension of any normal pony.
“I reported my findings to Arch-Mage Midnight Shimmer, and she reported them to the hierarchy. It did not take long to reach a decision. The war made us desperate to have a pony such as this on our side. And even though Lucky may accuse me of being too gentle for war,” Clover said, her voice becoming softer, “I admit that even I was tempted at the chance for such a boon. For pursuits both intellectual and… military.”
Clover’s gaze strayed away, her eyes distant, as if she were looking over Celestia’s shoulder and into the past.
“And so, in a remote, secluded forest in the north of Equestria, the Royal Magi performed the spell. And to our horror, it worked.”
Celestia’s mouth was dry. With some difficulty, she swallowed, and asked, “What happened?”
“We summoned an alicorn, that much is true. A handsome yellow-coated, blue-maned stallion who called himself ‘Stell’.” Clover’s voice seemed almost nostalgic, lamenting for what could have been. She shook her head. “But something was wrong. Not unlike yourself, Celestia, he came into the world screaming. Agonized. Unlike you, however, he did not recover.
“The physical pain was temporary – though I was baffled as to why my spell caused physical pain in the first place – but his madness never ceded. He ranted and raved about things we did not understand, cowered at visions we could not see. Despair was written into his very being. The Magi, we tried… tried to…”
Clover stopped, utter dejection on her face. Celestia wondered if she might cry – a strange and uncomfortable notion.
Clover regained her composure, cleared her throat, and continued.
“We tried to calm him down, to talk with him, to treat him, to sedate him. Nothing worked. His madness continued, and all the while, he was changing. His colors faded, his voice grew deeper, energy crackled in the air. His raving took on a dark tone. He kept telling us there was no hope for any of us, that we were doomed from the start, that our deaths were inevitable; and he spoke them not as threats, but as facts.
“Storm clouds gathered above us, thunder shook the ground, rain began to pour. No pegasus-created storm was this – it rumbled and stirred in concert with the madness of the alicorn before us. Soon, Stell became wreathed in electricity, crackling and hissing like the element itself.
“Lightning began to strike the forest around us. It was destroying the landscape, obliterating it. We tried to suppress him, to keep his magic under control, but to no avail. He was simply too powerful.
“It was like watching the tantrum of a god.
“Our lives were in danger, and the site surrounding our summoning was going to be made into a spot of black soot on the Equestrian landscape.
“I did not know what to do. None of us did. Except for Midnight.”
Clover closed her eyes.
“The Arch-Mage did what she had to. An unexpected and fatal blow put an end to the insanity. The alicorn Stell had lived, and died, within the space of an hour.
“We had failed,” Clover continued, reopening her eyes, “but we came so close. My summoning spell, one of the most complicated magical procedures in a century, had worked, almost, on the first try. The hierarchy asked that we try again. So we did. Months passed as I researched and refined and rewrote my spell, in the hopes that the same disaster would not occur twice. On the eve of our second attempt, one year later, I was confident of our success.”
Clover scoffed. “I was a fool. The second attempt was met with the same ‘success’ as the first. The alicorn, a mare named ‘Nova Belle’, was just like the first: stricken by dreams and plagued by fears unfounded. Void magic, dark and without form, seeped from her being until it threatened to consume everything around her. She lasted only a few hours before Midnight Shimmer was again forced to strike her down before the destruction she caused became too great.
“Attempt after attempt, all of our would-be saviors were consumed and destroyed. Their fears were different, their magic was different, but they all ended the same. Each time the Magi collaborated in refining the spell, and each time the summoned subject lasted a little bit longer – a few hours, a few days, a week – but they all eventually succumbed to the madness in their minds.
“I was never sure what caused it – and to this day I do not know – but the alicorns always exhibited similar traits of a pony who had been profaned, broken by Discord; which led me to believe they were somehow falling prey to their Nightmares. We tried to compensate for this, but to no avail.
“After so many failed attempts, I became discouraged, as did all of the Magi; our curiosity and ambition no longer outweighed our despair. One of our number even quit, discharging herself from the Royal Magi. Yet, the Royal Council demanded that we continued to try; it would, admittedly, be a great benefit to Equestria if we were to succeed. Yet they had never witnessed our failures firsthand.
“Eventually, I was ready to refuse them. Were it not for Midnight Shimmer, I would have. She told me that she too was tired of their failures, that she found the whole thing reprehensible. She proposed one last summoning, and if the attempt failed, she would refuse alongside me.
“This, our last, great effort, is how you came to be, Celestia.”
In the corner of the room, Cotton cast a concerned gaze at Clover and Celestia, switching back and forth between them. Clover seemed sad, very sad; but Celestia was simply speechless.
“Why am I different?” Celestia eventually managed, her voice hoarse.
Clover cast her a pitying look. “I can guess, but I do not know exactly why. It could be our final modification of the spell worked. It could be that you are inherently stronger than your predecessors, or that your Nightmare is weaker – though, judging by recent events, I would hesitate to draw that particular conclusion. The only thing I know is that between our previous failed attempts and Discord’s attack and personal appearance at your summoning, it is a miracle you are with us today.”
Celestia swallowed. “So I’m… what? The fourth alicorn? The fifth?”
Celestia watched as Clover cringed and looked away. A cloud of shame seemed to hang over her head. When she spoke, her voice was despondent.
“The thirteenth.”
Celestia did not know how to react. She glanced at the door and windows, watching for the faint shimmering of the privacy spells.
“How many others know about this?” she asked.
“Not many,” Clover answered. “Myself, obviously, and Arch-Mage Midnight Shimmer. The Adepts knew, though of their number only Reverie remains. A few of the highest ranking military figures and politicians are privy. And Lucky Break as well.”
“Lucky?” Celestia repeated. “The day we met he told me that he didn’t know of my origin. Does that mean Apple Crumble, and Lieutenant Trick, and-”
“None of his subordinates know,” Clover quickly said. “It is very privileged information – Lucky would never have known, if not for… if not for the fact that it was deemed proper for him to be told of the potential dangers to his battalion. He was told when you were assigned to the 21st. Obviously, he accepted without hesitation.”
“And nopony thought to tell me?” Celestia said.
Though she tried to hide it, Clover’s shamed expression deepened, but she responded, “You were incredibly anxious when we met. I did not want to burden you further with prophecies of failure. And afterwards, you seemed to fall into a stable routine of training and social interaction; I feared I would upset a balance I could not perceive.”
Celestia looked away.
“This is exactly why you must never attempt to utilize the Nightmare,” Clover said, her tone pleading. “Others have fallen prey to it, and you shall too.”
“Or,” Celestia said, “perhaps this is why I must use the Nightmare.”
She looked back at Clover, who stared at her in confusion.
“I haven’t fallen prey to it.” Celestia stood. “Not yet. I’m here now, carrying on a perfectly civil conversation. I don’t fear visions like the others.”
“You have told me about your dreams-”
“And they remain nothing but that! Dreams! Strange dreams, it is true,” Celestia said firmly, “but they remain in my head nonetheless.”
“But this one did not,” Clover observed.
“It was different.”
“No, it was not.”
“It was though-”
“It was not,” Clover asserted, her voice rising. “Celestia, I see in you the signs I saw in the others.”
“I know you do,” Celestia said. “But it may be like you said: perhaps I am stronger than them. Perhaps I have more self-control.”
“Self-control is not a factor when it comes to Nightmares.”
“Then why can I control it?” Celestia demanded.
“I don’t know,” Clover said, her tone clipped.
“You don’t know, I don’t know,” Celestia said. “Nopony knows and it doesn’t matter.”
“How can you say that?” Clover asked, a uncharacteristic edge creeping into her tone. “After everything I have just told you, how can you say it does not matter? It matters, you know exactly how much it matters. This is your very life we are discussing!”
“I understand that. But-”
“Celestia,” Clover said, emphatically cutting her off, “I must forbid you from using the Nightmare like this. You simply cannot.”
At this, Celestia’s longsuffering facade broke, and her expression went from annoyance to anger.
“You forbid me!” she exclaimed. “You ‘forbid’ me!”
Clover’s expression faltered at the outburst.
“At every turn, I have been prohibited from serving!” Celestia shouted, her voice echoing in the small chamber. “At first, ponies were too frightened of me to even speak with me, much less let me help them. Later, after I am actually accepted into a battalion, on the eve of our first battle, I am put into the 4th support company, so that I see no combat. And now this?”
The privacy screens over the door and window glowed, pulsating with each new crest in volume.
“Every time I have a chance to be useful, there is some obstacle in the way; and every time, I have overcome it by not doing what people expect me to do. I had to make a better name for myself, instead of cowering away from ponies’ fear, as would have been a perfectly reasonable reaction. I had to pose as member of another battalion just to see the battlefield – and afterwards, Lucky saw my potential, and decided I could fight!”
“This is entirely different,” Clover stated.
“Why should it be so hard to serve?” Celestia asked incredulously. “Does Equestria want my help, or doesn’t it?”
“Dear-”
“Since my first breath,” Celestia continued, “I have sought nothing but the truth of my existence, and to help Equestria. And yet I am denied both of those things. Until now, I have been able to do nothing worthy of note – and only today am I hearing of the alicorns that came before me. Is there anything else I should know?”
Clover ignored her. “Be reasonable. There are many ways to serve, if that is what you want – but this is not one of them.”
“But think of all the lives I saved! Think the soldiers that would have been lost, were it not for my efforts. Think of all the lives that would have been saved had I done it sooner. Ponies I knew, good friends, at Manehattan, they, if I had just-” Celestia tripped up over her words. She cleared her throat, and continued. “Ponies lost their lives at Manehattan. Soldiers of the 21st. Comrades, some of my only friends in this world, died, and I could have saved them.”
“Their deaths are not your fault,” Clover said.
“I don’t blame myself,” Celestia said. “But it will not be happening again.”
Clover did not respond.
“I’m supposed to be a soldier,” Celestia asserted. “That’s why I’m here. To defeat Discord’s hordes. And now I can.”
“You are a gifted, intelligent mare, Celestia,” Clover said, trying to calm her. “You are an invaluable ally and a steadfast friend. But right now, you are being very foolish.”
“Foolish? I finally was able to contribute,” Celestia responded, “In the Maiden’s Battalion, a force filled with legends and heroes, I was finally able to have some measurable presence. And now you tell me I cannot? That I should not? That goes against everything I’ve ever been told! I should-”
“You will destroy yourself!” Clover suddenly shouted, stamping a hoof on the ground. “Yourself and others! You wish to talk of lives? What of the lives that could have been lost in the fires, had you misdirected them? You caused massive damage to the city of Manehattan-”
“As if it wasn’t already damaged.”
“-and in the end, you were fighting the commander of your own battalion!”
“I said that was an accident!”
“I know you wish for me to see the potential in this,” Clover continued, her voice surprisingly fierce, “but all I can see are memories of madness and decimated landscapes.”
“If I must destroy myself for Equestria, then so be it.”
Clover was incredulous.
“I cannot believe I am hearing this!” she exclaimed, throwing both hooves into the air. “You sound exactly like Lucky Break! There is more to life, much more, than war and self-sacrifice!” Her tone was somewhere in between pleading and demanding. “What is the point of winning if you lose yourself in the process?”
“Well maybe Lucky is right about something!” Celestia shot back. “I will lay down my life, as many others have before me, if it means I can avenge those who have been lost to this godsforsaken war. This is what has been expected of me from every pony I’ve ever met. It is what I promised them! My friends, my comrades – even the Royal Council! Sending me to war was their choice.”
“It was a choice I disagreed with,” Clover asserted. “It was a choice I never would have made.”
“Well, with twelve dead alicorns on your hooves,” Celestia venomously spat, “I think we both know how the choices you made have turned out.”
In the corner, Cotton let out a quiet gasp, and put her hoof over her mouth.
Celestia immediately regretted speaking. She could see the hurt pass over the old mare’s face, come and gone like a bolt of lightning.
Celestia slowly sat down upon her haunches, rubbing her elbow and letting her gaze drift away.
A moment passed before Clover spoke again. When she did, it was with the calm, collected, teacher’s voice that Celestia had come to know her for.
“You are right,” Clover said softly. “I have led a long life. I have made many mistakes. I have lost too many ponies. I would not lose another.”
Celestia looked back towards Clover, her expression only half apologetic.
“And I would not be wasted.”
A moment passed.
“I’m sorry,” Celestia muttered.
She rose to her hooves, and walked out of the room, the magical privacy screen shimmering as she passed through it.
Clover watched her go.
Deafening silence filled the room.
Cotton rose to her hooves, unsure of what to do, who to try and comfort. Clover did not seem to be moving, simply looking at the doorway where Celestia had exited. Cotton could not see Clover’s expression, but did not expect it was good.
A few more tense moments passed.
“Wow,” Cotton said, nervously chuckling, “that was intense.”
Clover gave no response.
“I know she didn’t mean it,” Cotton said soothingly. “She’ll come around.”
Clover still said nothing, and remained motionless.
Cotton drew closer, and put a comforting hoof on the old mare’s shoulder.
“Celestia is just being a grumpy-lump,” she said, rubbing Clover’s shoulder. “The battle just made her tired. It’s made everybody tired.”
Clover’s gaze dropped, just a little.
“Oh, she told me her left wing was still sore,” Cotton said cheerfully. “That’s probably why she’s so grumpy. Maybe we could get Lieutenant Lightning Sky to come in and take a look-”
“Lightning Sky is dead.”
Cotton stopped short. Her hoof dropped from Clover’s shoulder, returning to the ground with a quiet clop.
The privacy barriers lowered, and the commotion of the hospital came flooding back in, replacing the room’s grave silence.
Without another word, Clover left.
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You're alive!
6189567
I sure am! It feels good to be writing again!
6189580
I actually completely forgot about this story and now I want to re read it! Congrats on the marriage thing and keep up the good work!
Give me some warning next time. I haven't re-read this in the last...5 months. Sheesh
Faithful follower, checking in! I missed you.
You're back!!
*scrolls down...* "Nightmare"... Oh hell... well that was certainly interesting, and I do wonder what that final modification to the spell was. Great chapter man, well worth the wait. And now I got some thinkin' to do.
Welcome my friend
It took a baker's dozen of alicorns to get one stable enough to do much of anything. I wonder how badly Clover's failures are tainting the way they think.
ITS ALIVE!
AYYYY
So...yeah, I'm not sure who I'm supposed to be supporting here...
Great chapter to read before bed I tell you what.
Wow that was intense. Wonder if Celestia and Clover's relationship will recover
Heh. Celestia is probably different because she's not summoned. She was created.
That, or Clover has the lives of twelve dead volunteers on her shoulders.
Since the last chapter that's been posted my headcanons have shifted a lot and I don't wholly agree with this story.
But it's still a great read and I'm glad to see that your mission didn't end in you losing your interest in this.
Also, this makes me realize, we're not even to the mid-point of this story, are we?
The GODS!!!
6192488
I'd say we're past the midpoint already.
6189580 Thank you for the chapter Mister Moose.
My favorite story continues once more!
ohhh, thanks for the chapter~
Ominous, and worrying that Clover still won't tell Celestia the full truth.
6191047 lucky 13? I thought 13 was an unlucky number…
Yay? update, so worth the wait.
And to think I had just finished reading my published copy. Im ao happy to see a new update, and I look forward to seeing more of your amazing talent in the future.
yey
I'm glad to see a new chapter, this is the first fanfic I read and I've been following it for a long time. I hope to see more as this goes along
Welcome back! And terrific new chapter, old moose!
Well, it took me 5 weeks, but I finished rereading the fic just so I could know what's going on in this chapter. Still an awesome story, btw, though that 20,000 word chapter was just as daunting the second time around. And I had a feeling "the Pheonix" was Celestia's Nightmare.
In the end, though, I just have one more thing...
S-still waiting for that next chapter.
It seems to me that the Nightmare is the Dark Side for Alicorns. To pursue the elemental, emotion-fuelled power of Dark Magic is to risk losing yourself to madness and possibly evil. Celestia is young enough and, perhaps, naive enough to believe that she can control this power. However, what I would say to her is this: Everypony else who has been consumed by the Dark thought precisely the same thing.
When something promises solutions so easily that it seems too good to be true... it is usually is too good to be true. Something tells me that this is a bitter lesson that Celestia will learn at the harshest personal cost.
6446714
In the words of an idealist who bastardized her believes to become what was effectively an arms dealer and associate terrorist:
"It starts out pure at first, just the science and ideas. Then come the set backs, and the grant money, making deals and compromises along the way, and when you look up again, you realize your a long way from shore..."
This character is later killed so that the hero feels forced to stay and help fix the formula for their thing turning people into living bombs so that they no longer explode and instead only benefit from the regenerative powers that allow them to grow back amputated limbs. He, of course, instead just goes back to kicking the bad guy's ass.
Huge exposition dump this chapter, Clover playing with the water while explaining was a very nice touch that made it feel so much more real.
Theory time!
When the alicorns disappeared, they were trapping themselves and discord inside the mountain to hold him back and try to defeat him. Over 250 years, he managed to profane all of them one by one, driving them insane and allowing him to break out of their prison. To add insult to injury, he uses their magical power to create the hordes that are attacking the rest of the world. Enter clover and the gang, who manage to summon an alicorn from inside the cave. The first 12 are still profaned by Discord, which Clover is calling the Nightmare because profaning manifests differently in alicorns? They have to be killed. For the 13th summoning, they changed something. Threw in a lock of Daylights hair, sacrificed her during the ritual, used a soul stone whatever. Something changed and when the profaned alicorn came out, it merged with daylight. Daylight's got enough influence to hold onto sanity, and manipulate small things, but for the most part she's in the back seat and Celestia is driving. During the battle, Daylight stopped holding Celestia back to get some vengeance, but now she's back in control, holding the Nightmare in a dream. The state of mind is the only thing effected by the nightmare, the magic is just plane old alicorn power that Celestia forgot how to use until she went nuts. Ergo, safe to use.
I knew that something dubious was going on with the Alicorns.
I still wonder how Luna would play into all this, too.