Favorable Alignment

by Ice Star

Chapter 50: Nova Burst

Nightmare Moon:

There was the shattering sound of crystal that left my ears pounding reminded me of the cold vacuum of the moon: a sensation much of me was familiar with but unable to currently place. Following it was the stinging tear from within of regret, dissolving as violently as it bloomed in my chest; I heard myself gasp. Cold still drifted by my smooth coat and air whooshed around me with the splintering of crystal. I tried to pull each sense and memory, or any recollection and sense of grounding identity to pull me from the darkness unfolding.

I felt the moon and could not pinpoint why. I felt the powerful traces of regret, anger, envy, and something deeper than any sadness that begged to be ended at all costs, like a glue-covered hole in the mind that also pleaded to be jumped into-

And then, from everything disguised as nothing, I felt the outline of my body form and the two great sensations of before, one that felt familiar with all I have stated and slipped into a haze for a moment.

The world around me almost sang itself into being. The billions of prickles of magic ran along my coat and all the invisible sensations that outlined the world that another part of me knew I was the center of all burst into being. Outlines of the gaping crystalline wound of a sanctum were clear in my mind. I only needed to open my eyes to see them.

I felt that it had been a while. That gnawing sense of regret and strife - the moon's cold surface with it - came with a mixed sense of both distance from an experience that felt like a lucid dream and vividness. My body knew that it experienced that before. Somehow. Had there been a before? Both parts of me, swirling halves that blended together and were like two little nagging drives that held a slightly different feeling about them, felt so strongly that there was... yet, that time with the moon kept coming to mind. I could not help but recall a sense of being incomplete that came with it.

Now, I felt so much different. But, did I look different too? I did not feel the weight of a helm on my head or like I towered above the vague impressions I had of distant, meaningless mortals. They were likely just figments of whatever feat completed me, visions of color simply given shape. Even if they were real, they were insignificant - each and every single one of them.

I wanted to open my eyes. I wanted to find the decaying presence rooted so deeply within what should be nothing but a corpse among all this magic and unmake them, as both parts of me burned to. I felt so much fire growing. I was not to be something that raged within, with my fangs. I ran my tongue over them and knew that they were there, bared to the world with only rage and hollow glee plastered to my face. I am not as cold, not as regal as that.

Part of me knows triumph, temper, an immovable sense of stubbornness, selfishness, and a dangerous mind.

Another part of me knows something like vengeance that has been shaped into a currently cold fury that will get me between each outburst. But that part of me is mirthful where the other is twisted, and I think I shall let those mix. I feel some old ache and longing cease as my thoughts turn to twisted mirth. I have an inclination to it, maybe? This part knows a wild grace, a stability that I could wreck in the most curious of ways. This one is the great heart.

I have a great heart, a dangerous mind, and a longing to open my eyes as this second comes to pass.

And yet, I wonder why the name Nightmare Moon is rooted in me. It rings hollow and no longer fits, so I do what must be done and let it go.

...

I growled slightly and whizzed past crystal shards. Sleek, curved wings the color of charcoal cut through the air silently and quickly. Part of me wasn't used to flying, but another part of me knew every little thing about flight that the other seemed to lack, and I felt for that one more, letting the knowledge that felt so soft in my mind next to burning desire for revenge take control.

The red distorted some of my coloring, but not enough that I was unable to admire myself. There was my charcoal coat, my fangs, and blue-purple eyes that only felt half-right, black pupils peering back at me before that particular shard fell and I only was able to see my unruly, dusky mane of purple flowing behind me. It was longer than any stallion's but just barely overgrown for a mare's, and did not sparkle enough to my liking, which was something part of me longed for. A mane that sparkled profusely when tossed was something to brag about.

I light my horn with an aura that starts out iridescent before darkening into a deep, glittering royal purple, and I can't help but feel the slightest bit irritated by this. Why so much purple? Why not green? Part of me really wants to know.

I'm only relieved that my horn is free from the äerint that had bound in when I felt myself awakening. It was now the proper shape of any demon's horn and unable to have such vile stuff like äerint dug into it. I reach up a forehoof to tap the curved part. I may be able to use the same magic, but dark magic would not be winning this battle. I had far more worthwhile spectacles.

The power of two gods thrummed within me, and I dodged the last of the shattered blood magic.

I quickly darted past anything else that I sensed, and must've blended in well with the gloom of this place as I soared.

Nearly everything about me was a deep, dark gray - a slightly fluffy coat and long legs blended in well. I did have a feeling that I used to be taller, but did not know why. My mane and tail did not stand out either. There was the gleam of dark blue in my some of my feathers, but not enough to mark me as an easy target.

I settled atop a protruding ledge of äerint like a gargoyle and flared my wings so that they framed me, growling as the dust of battle settled. In the reflection of a nearby äerint cluster, I caught my reflection as I scanned the floor below. My jaw was clenched in the grim expression of any sentry above it all, as I was. I sat unmoving and solid, moving into battle would take no time at all. My irises looked more reddish-purple than blue-purple than I recalled, but I let it be.

The vast explosion of magic that had created me and seeped from this pocket world left quite a mess. Smokey aura of red, black, turquoise, and other colors still clung below like mist pouring into a valley. I don't know how the outside world was to be affected by this, but I anticipated that a battle was to begin. Here was a scenario that marked inevitable violence - but I wasn't complaining one bit. Instead, I felt every bit of me long for this, with magic greater than whatever created me - and more dangerous than either because of how much rested within me. I was a harbinger combined with all that followed, and a complete one. I radiated more than just smug cruelty that my creeping fangy smile showed.

There was a gnawing for revenge where the longing for darkness eternal had slipped away to the fog of memory. This Umbra and I were both creatures of magic, but I'm sure that I was something more, and my certainty was nearly a confirmation in itself. He was simply power, and to end him, I would overwhelm him.

I caught another glimpse of my mad, wild grin and the purple of my eyes under an unruly mane as patience started ebbing and anticipation grew.

As everything below cleared, I had plain view of what waited before me. It was Umbra. Or, what was left of him. The äerint on his wings neither looked or felt whole - he was using what was left to make a last stand.

All the effort of those before me - those that I embodied, in part - had taken a toll. He was no longer a feared destroyer - at least, not to me and what I could do. Every brutal action against him - the burns of lightning, the cuts of blades, and everything else - had been more than enough from the only two who could have managed this, the journey included. Yes, he was still dangerous, but immensely less so. The world could not fall to him unless he were to escape and begin anew with the corruption brought from his artifacts that scattered in the Collapse... and even before that, I imagine.

He stood as a creature mauled beyond all recognition, headless and bearing little equine form beyond having hooves. The once white coat that he had was no longer whole, but had been torn away completely be numerous meetings with the blades of a goddess and the work of a god. Even his tail, darker than pitch black, was dripping with a foul slurry from his wounds and was just a dark, unrecognizable mass that rippled quietly as he stood tall.

Tall, but broken. I ran my tongue over my fangs and looked down upon him more than just literally. If his head was still intact and he sensed me in any other way than what that rotten soul sewn into this living corpse could manage, he would have been looking at me with a smothered attempt at fury, I would think. I hoped he could sense my cheeky grin growing wider, cruel fangs gleaming in the dark while my eyes glinted wickedly and I drew out the unbearable silence between myself and this silent foe.

What was once a full leg stomped down, pawing the ground in a mechanical motion. I caught the sight of exposed bone - not that there wasn't plenty elsewhere - and rose, a calculating look of unstoppable determination in my eyes.

I know how he did it. Umbra had sewed himself to that disgusting vessel. Any other immortal's form would have not lasted by now - at least not without some miraculous and stalling magical aid that wasn't here - and their soul would depart until they could gather power, a body, and themselves altogether once again.

He rotted in there, in that sick shell that should not move any longer.

I'd see to that. My horn glowed ominously, the iridescent glitter once again cluttering the sight of my deep purple aura as I leapt into battle and swooped below, grinning madly as I picked up speed. My booming cackle echoed off the irregular walls, with haunting results that sent chills of excitement down my spine. Wanting fueled my magic, and concentration too. But, they were not alone in building up the power that gathered on my horn, and what a power it was! It was not dark magic, never something I couldn't use, but everything else. It grew with my swift descent. I was a predator above all, and that meant I preyed on him.

Color swarmed on my horn, collecting more and more as I drew deeper from vast reserves. There was so much I was capable of, and this was more than just a fire. I would shape this power, and use it all. Every bit would be venomous. It would have the framing and genius that any sorcerer would feel nothing but the greatest want for.

Here, the dangerous mind would have free reign over all the power that he could hope to access. He had been given all the paper in the world and all the ink into record everything he ever wanted. His skill would not go unnoticed in the slightest. It was he, who told the great heart as they - I - surveyed their battle-to-be before leaping, and here I was now. It was he who knew that when the souls of all gods here deteriorated were just a twisted fuel for the crystalline chunk that floated in this abyss, and it was Umbra who used this fuel - it flowed in the äerint he bound himself with.

I thought this soul-eater to be the lowest of all I have seen and that they have known - and they were me. If he was the lowest, I was without a doubt the highest: a destroyer or savior, if needed. To save all, I would destroy him just as I once thought that destroying all would save something - the great heart's the source of those dead notions. She - my great heart - knew that magic was potent when desire went into it. This was often, but not always. Though, for her it had always been. The thought of lunar isolation crept through me once again, and vanished in the storm to come.

She was pulling things into view, her and the mind were linked and what grew on my horn, shining about the walls with apocalyptic fury. There were the centuries of longing for answers in a world born from ashes - it was a silent longing, and that's what gave it all power.

The ashes of that world were from his fires.

The knowledge and art of all that had mattered lived in a fraction, archived away in a dangerous mind that knew better to share them. With the loss of all the knowledge of an old world, was the death of more. He knew this, and she saw it with him, but they felt it together.

And that was all his fault.

Then there was the shared anger and disgust at the sickening things that ponies had become.

Ponies with few individuals, my mind would add. It would not be incorrect to think this, merely dangerous, but the truth often was. That they both knew.

That, for the most part, had been the fault of the ponies - but one that did have a catalyst, and lo, and behold - HE STOOD HERE!

The eradication cultures, extinction of species and land, cities as lost mass graves, and the diaspora of a continents' creatures was not forgotten by those who knew better.

It was none other than he who had caused that.

But there were darker things still.

A temper that transcended time, circumstance, and imprisonment that was a double edged sword. There was more to be gained from this anger - I knew the memories and felt it prickling, fueling, and ready to be used - but that does not mean that there was no time where it was not the fault of something. The owner knew that, and there were extents of it that he had no pride in.

And that was barely the beginning.

My chest ached with the recollections of different plights, only made distant because of the rush my charge was giving me.

Eight years of torture, violation, falling, and fighting all the while. Running from countless ghosts and visions only to end up in another corner of that crystal palace cage. Screaming in the dark at everypony. At nothing. At myself, who mattered most of all.

Stumbling through hallway after hallway on nights where the contents of the castle cellars burned in my mind that they had to be had, no matter the results.

Sinking further while all the world that sprawled outside stood still.

Seeing anypony but myself in a reflection and having the knowledge that only those eyes were mine boring into me and holding every new challenge. They burned angrier every day the world got dimmer, knowing that only I mattered and held anger that grew when tears subsided.

There was the feel of holding a book in my forehooves, but it was shaking, and all because I was slumped in a cold corner and crying too much to be able to read.

I knew what it was like to be weighed down on the floor with a whole array of things. Magical exhaustion. Emptiness around me that wanted me to be empty too. Just another hangover. Something like regret. Thoughts that never went away and thoughts that wouldn't go away even if I wanted them to. Plans that I traced with my eyes into every looming ceiling of the corrupted crystal bell jar that I was trapped under. Stress. Exhaustion that I refused to succumb to; it didn't matter, eight years with forced wakefulness did have the occasional instance...

...where I just sprawled heavily upon the ground...

...and sorted through the paranoid weight of my thoughts, knowing - at least then.

.it.never.ends.it.never.ends.it.never.ends.it.never.ends.it.never.ends.it.never.ends.

With that lacing through my eyes, I'd pull myself because there was every reason not to and keep on fighting for the only reason that mattered: me.

I'd pile books of philosophy, legends, mathematics, magic, and the world unseen around me.

Everything would be confronted. That, I had no choice in.

And I'd keep going because there was no reason to.

There never was.

Eight years of everything crashing down on me at once, and eleven centuries with only her to be the start of something better. But before that, there were eight years and every scar that they'd bring.

Of shaking with wide eyed terror. Of freezing. Of be forced to stay while somepony slithered about in my mind and I just huddled on the floor with a cape that was just weighted red death shroud and all the wrong sounds of him whispering all the right things to make me miserable... and him laughing when that too-vivid imagination and the next bout of everything crashed in and...

and...

Grit teeth. Scream. Stare into it all. Think about everything. Be scared.

Be very scared.

Drink later; it'll burn my throat. Who cares?

Force myself to care... at times.

Care genuinely deep down.

Stay. Live.

Shake.

Endure.

Fight back.

When my voice returns just-

-defy. Speak out. Say something.

Laying on the floor with regalia hobbles and that shroud, say anything. Breathe in shakes and gasps. Taste the tear of where my cheek ran with blood the time before the last time. Stare forever, just be sure to see.

And know, with your dangerous mind that you have never, ever seen enough.

There'll be ponies for every tomorrow until who knows when, at least in those eight years. I'd just stand up and continue. Those ponies wouldn't ever make it. He'd want everything so messy. And at that point in those eight years where I fought because I fought and after I laid in the ashes of that library and I was more than old enough to drink myself mad even though I already had a head start, I'd fight something a little differently.

I was too angry for everything and it'd never stay in any longer. I directed it, I didn't control it. But it didn't control me, and that's the only thing like relief I had. So I wouldn't resist killing ponies anymore. Not unless they weren't grown.

I'd still spite him in every other way I could. That would never stop. I would never stop. I could never stop. As soon as I locked eyes with whatever face would be slipping into memory, and that first hit was in...

...and I couldn't help but see them as an extension of the plague and herd mentality that infected all of them. I knew what they did, and Onyx wasn't as unlike every one of them as he thought...

...They knew things too, and about what they had done and it'd be so much better to end it; I'd only grow guiltier. I was already guilty enough.

I didn't stop. I'd end them. Magic or blade. It'd be angry and impersonal, but compared to the deaths Onyx liked; merciful.

I didn't stop. I knew why he did what he did to Starswirl's body then. Only, Onyx wanted to do that forever. I didn't want to do that forever. I still wanted to live, but just barely. I didn't stop that. I didn't stop being angry. I stopped thinking that I was ever going to get out of there, and had every reason to do so, and living went with that. But I still lived.

The last three years had all of that. I just lost it. Part of me I'd never justify or deny the existence of got to show in full. I told myself - I was me, no matter how others might lie about the experiences - something one day, and let it all spill over. It wasn't simple. It was:

Don't stop.

And I didn't.

All that and more was born from eight years, but my heart was equally heavy with the misery that came with a life of over three thousand years and the despair that had, and were still being coped with, bit by bit.

They resonated within, and the Heart of this place that was not much of anywhere at all roared with dark shades of sinister purple that bathed over the gray gloom, and all colors iridescent glittered within.

The heart did not struggle to recall what it was like.

To step into the land of the Tribes was to have my world taken from me and thrust into a grave that nopony did anything but contribute to. The land was dying, the ponies were too. Cultures were a trap of toxic customs and a decaying mess of what had been right and just in the world I knew so long ago. I wanted to leave as soon as my sister followed me in getting her mark, because that is when I knew that we wouldn't be able to, and I was right. Celestia and I were forced across the land until we were in the poisoned heart of the unicorns' territory, and became the wards of Starswirl.

It wasn't about that. It was about what happened after.

All the nights spent beating at cobblestone bricks in a tower I wanted to escape. Those were nights when clouds and spirals of smoke drifted upward and blotted out stars that shouldn't have felt so far away.

This was about the ache in my chest that never went away in all those years, no matter what I did and cut even deeper the few times I laughed - and I laughed when I could, alone, as I should. It didn't sound the same. My laughter had cracked, and there were times when I would choke on it in the same way I would choke on tears. Or choke them back.

I felt like that the rot of the world would chase me no matter how deep I ran within myself, and in all the later years there was the air of knowing that I no longer considered myself salvageable... at least, not once I knew, and steered myself in the years after Discord's defeat to something other then resignation and dwelling in the last sanctuary: shadows.

The founding of Equestria did little to better ponykind. It only improved their situations. A mare with ten foals would no longer have to lose half of somepony as precious as her own children before they were all half-grown. If only they had appreciated it. The tribes were united against everything that never sought to harm them and merely began to fester in their prosperity, while I broke apart piece by piece. They did not know how I observed them from my parallel place. I knew them. I walked among them and acted as the dutiful shadow of my sister, for in those years she wasn't herself as she is now.

It was all just a backdrop to what went on inside, and as years passed I had no choice but to focus on everything, everypony, and all that I could ever see, think, feel, touch, taste, and know in excruciatingly painful, utterly ignorable detail down to the slightest twitch. My senses ached. I couldn't speak or find away to pluck the rich and frenzied descriptions that racked me from within and turn them into anything but occasional stutters in front of a mirror.

I could say nothing that mattered. Yes, sister. No, sister. She was only Celestia to me then, Princess Celestia. Here, Princess. There, Princess. Your Majesty. Nothing right came out.

That had been agonizing. There was no other pony, or any other at all that would be safe to confide in, who was trustworthy, or who could understand even a bit of what I went through. I had myself, and I hated that. No, I hated me.

Every day was like banging on the door of a cell until I ached to my very core in any attempt to break what I wished was a spell. How long did it take to know I was kicking against a wall? It matters not. I did not pity myself as I broke because I didn't want to be myself any more. I wanted to at least mask my pain.

I huddled in whatever uncluttered places still exist within me and wilted. I found things in the dark there that was both painfully beautiful, far away and too close at the same time, and that terrified me, because they were all me and they lurked within my own mind. The rest of me envied everypony. My sister was respected, feared, believed, and worshiped as well as loved. My craft was ignored, what little work I did was scorned, and I was mocked. My sister had a whole budding kingdom to love her as a sign of piece, lovers who fawned over her, and was the nation's brightest star.

And one day, all within the most innermost part of me had something to say that went against everything I ever knew about myself:

Stop hoping.

I did, and found myself freezing in the sky.

My hooves touched the ground, energy both magical and physical running through me and the colossal growth of magical aura was not just fueled. It broke its swarming sphere shape, and exhilaration rose in me as it bled throughout Niflhel's Heart, which only made it feel more like an explosion of power everywhere. My coat always felt like it was prickling with the magical sensations that swarmed the air and disorienting Umbra, whose rigid posture swayed against what control of his body he had left.

When skidding to a stop in this dark kaleidoscope, I allowed myself to draw in a few quick breaths and give my surroundings a larger focus. Sweat formed under my long forelock and on my coat as I strained to keep control.
I was not power, I was made of it. If I lost all control, both parts of me would suffer, and the world with them.

Instead of shuddering, I stared straight at every grisly inch of Umbra that was lost in the the purple glow. My stare did not waver, no matter how much the distance between us shrank as I skidded. So much had been put into this and four thousand years of revenge have finally been pushed to this - the avenging of anything, everything, and everypony lost - brutal catharsis. No more chances would be happening if this failed and I was lost in the same way my enemy was.

With any focus gone - any doubt at all - I would be split apart, and risk catastrophic injury to all of myself.

My own senses are already lost in the magic that swarms around me. The thick, intense glow is getting more difficult to control, and the effort to concentrate everything into this means that one unfocused move, and all is done. The wild pounding of my heart is about all I can sense, and Umbra's outline and the shadows that jump about every surface of the walls are all I can see. Because of this, I feel nothing short of complete vulnerability, though I would not ever say so to another soul. Without being able to sense magic, to hear, and to feel above this sensory overload, what am I to do?

Unable to bear the strain of the magic that drowned all other senses and drenched this place in violet light, I finally let it go and the grinding illusion of time slowing down stopped. The aura that had been coating me clung no longer and rushed to the weight of the rough sphere of magic that was tearing apart any of the äerint edges that in came in contact with. The ground rumbled and swayed underhoof.

Seeing through the magic was difficult and the slightest bit of tears formed in the corner of my eyes at witnessing so much color and knowing this was the end.

He could not escape a storm from the inside out, and not when each and every escape dissolved under the might of my magic that spread like fire, but burned nothing like it.

Niflhel abruptly tilted to the side and back again. I did not need my tear-stung eyes to steady myself. The roar and shake and grind drowned out anything that would have been exchanged, had we anything to say to one another. That is not to say that there were no screams. My mouth curved into a sharp, wicked smile that showed my fangs gleaming cruelly through all of this. There was no smile more fitting than the one I flashed as I stood above others, as I stood above dear Celestia-

No, no. That name held little meaning to all but part of me, and a dying part that was only in memory.

A shriek ripped through the air, and my ears felt so mauled by the sharp, tearing sound that I staggered, clenched my jaw, and cringed at the harshness of it. That was all the proof I needed that Umbra had met my magic. I could sense, as the storm swarmed about him and wrenched itself deeper, slicing about his being. and severing the seams of his crumbling body. Crumbling was such a rough term. It suggested pieces and less pain. The agony that Umbra felt was not crumbling. That would be if there was something - anything - left to put together once more, or even reclaim and say was him. The scream unlike any other sounded again and just as I readied my wings for flight again, a jagged column of äerint fell, engulfed with my magic.

I gasped and jumped back at once, taking to the air with nothing but the sound of my frantic heartbeat echoing in my ears. Every part of me burned with the desire to retreat - the world was falling around me! The deed was done! In all this ruin, Umbra was unmade. He was being stripped to nothing, once and for all. That sound? The scream that stirred every memory of despair, anger, and moment of madness and hurt was the sound of his introduction to oblivion.

Smiling my cruel smile, I cocked my head to the side and peered upward in an effort to glean what might fall next and the howls that rocked all of Niflhel drifted up to my pained ears. I smiled just a little wider, and felt my mouth twitch. I would endure.

For now, I would endure the maddening experience of a world falling in on itself as magic that drained so much and pulled and tore ate away. The job would be done this time, and I would see it through - and it wasn't as if I wasn't sick enough to be watching this with anything but smug righteousness.

I wanted to see it all fall.

This was just a pocket dimension, and the one who screamed with no mouth, but from something within that was still left, and a dimension tied to the caster as Niflhel was to Umbra would collapse entirely.

I would finish what I started. Communication was not needed to do this. He knew he was done and I was the reckoner, too good to be restricted to his last moments. Eyes scanning the rapidly converging and diverging whirl of magic that struck me like stellar nurseries far, far away from a stardust bridge in the refreshing cold of space...

I risked a shake of my head to clear the memory, and the strength of vengeance sank in again, aiding in clearing my mind of any reminiscing of the outer world. From the ruins of a world torn asunder, there was something set free in the pregnant silence that fell with Umbra's last call. Pouring forth from the ruins of Niflhel's Heart was something that did not quite belong, but I had known was within the holds that had no living Alicorns - the only one had been found.

It was a purplish white light that scattered like the lightest snows of foalhood in the north or fireflies on the loneliest peaks of the Unicorn Range, where the skeletons of cities were lit up in a silent dark that was never meant to be feared, and a sky full of stars crowned the sky, spreading everywhere.

Against everything, I was wonderstruck in the midst of all the destruction, that for a moment had lost its luster. This was what was left - the remnants of the souls of the gods. The family she never really knew.

The motes didn't scatter, but floated in a swarming cloud that drifted patiently, as though it were waiting for something. I almost faltered mid-flight as a groan that was painful to listen to rocked the ruins that fell victim to my magic more with each passing second. My vision clouded over and I raised my forehooves to my ears as the sharp pain rain in my head. Gritting my teeth solved nothing. Then, I realized I was falling and the world was with me. It could no longer stay suspended with its creator fried into oblivion.

Gulping sharply, I pulled up and flew out to where the chamber's looming ceiling had once been - it was dissolving faster in the violent swarm of my power. I felt like I was in a vacuum of pure chaos. The sight I had made painted the world like the night sky, and focusing on the shifting mass - and the dust of souls in it - helped me focus what I had left.

Slowly, and I'll admit, a bit sloppily, the world began to open just a tear as my horn lit on the last free slab of äerint that I could spot. As soon as the tear was complete, I readied myself to plummet towards it, only to watch the wisps - yes, that felt more fitting - to beat me to it, and pour into the waiting world outside.

My apocalyptic feat has been done, I needn't linger where I have no worship. No longer delaying my departure, I raced after them and glided out into the new world, and I went laughing.

Comments

[nebulaegalaxy]

holy fuk

yes

[Ice Star]

8260509
Yes, what? :P

[nebulaegalaxy]

8260517
everything

[Ice Star]

8260538
Everything, eh?

[nebulaegalaxy]

8260539
i luv
chapter
rcgf
wordss

[Ice Star]

8260548
You seem to be loving every chapter, sammy. :P

[nebulaegalaxy]

8260549
maybee

[Ice Star]

8260550
Well, there's four left...

[nebulaegalaxy]

8260554
.
..
....
FAK

[Ice Star]

8260564
Why 'fak'?

[nebulaegalaxy]

8260577
cause it's so goood

[Ice Star]

8260589
Aww, well thank you.
Surely you'll stick around for my other stories?

[nebulaegalaxy]

8260601
of course
wouldn't miss 'em

[Ice Star]

8260603
Well thank you.

[Kaleido]

Nightmare Moon:

oh-ho-ho!

And yet, I wonder why the name Nightmare Moon is rooted in me. It rings hollow and no longer fits, so I do what must be done and let it go.

ooooooooooooh

The power of two gods thrummed within me, and I dodged the last of the shattered blood magic.

start music: synchrogazer - aufwachen form

Stop hoping.

I did, and found myself freezing in the sky.

My hooves touched the ground, energy both magical and physical running through me and the colossal growth of magical aura was not just fueled. It broke its swarming sphere shape, and exhilaration rose in me as it bled throughout Niflhel's Heart, which only made it feel more like an explosion of power everywhere . My coat always felt like it was prickling with the magical sensations that swarmed the air and disorienting Umbra, whose rigid posture swayed against what control of his body he had left.

start music: testament - aufwachen form

I wanted to see it all fall.

My apocalyptic feat has been done, I needn't linger where I have no worship. No longer delaying my departure, I raced after them and glided out into the new world, and I went laughing.

yesssssss

[Ice Star]

10285170

start music: synchrogazer - aufwachen form

I actually don’t understand these references