Unworthy of the Sun

by Impossible Numbers

Six Years Ago, Upon A Harsh Solstice

Under the blazing sun and the bleached sky, Sunset Shimmer ducked behind the rocks. Over the slopes and the ridges, she saw the distant spires of the city. Half of it was smoking today.

At least it’s better than yesterday, she thought.

Concern gave way to pragmatism. She’d never get involved in politics or religion. Her own city – with its own barely-there God to worry about – didn’t care about its neighbours. In fact, a mare of the street had enough problems of her own without thinking about the rest of the world.

Not that she ever thought of herself as badly off. There was still the almshouse, and the school, and the many not-so-fresh fruit and vegetable stands in the bazaar. Still, she looked at the mansions and the academies and the fat, well-dressed lords and ladies about the place, and she always itched to kick something.

She never looked down. Only upwards, sometimes to the sky.

Nonetheless, she had her own problems. And ways to solve them, since she knew a magician who knew a mare who could get in touch with a stallion who, at a very reasonable price, would gladly take off her hooves some valuable items. If she happened to find any. No questions asked, of course.

There’d been other things in her life. On the whole, however, Sunset could only imagine the slim volume her biography would be, were she in any way able or willing to commission one. Which, knowing the contents, she wouldn’t be. After all, who cared about the travails of a thief?

With practised ease, she crept across and amongst the boulders and trenches of the near-desert. What few trees existed out here were mere feathery tufts scattered on the barren grey.

She stopped. This was the place. How often had she seen that bubbly formation over there and the rod-like crumpled stones just here?

Taking great care, she gripped the flat boulder with both hooves and slid it across. Once the rumbling stopped, she peered into the crevice.

Dozens of jewels and gemstones glittered like stars.

“You beauty,” she whispered. From under her cloak, she levitated her latest prize: a trophy. Always nice to add to her collection.

She stopped. Her ear flicked.

Voices?

No… hoofsteps. Lots of hoofsteps. Sounds like an army stampeding through the gorge.

Frowning, Sunset forced the boulder back into place – wincing at the twinge in her strained forelimbs as she went – and crept up the slope to the lookout post. The clear valley below was a stage to her, and she the lone audience.

There was an army. They marched from the east, with the smoking city far behind. Every single one of them was dark. Eyes black as holes but dotted with bright, tiny pupils of colour: emeralds, golds, ruby-like reds. She watched shadows moving, like living ponies, and then she realized. They were ponies. All of them.

Even the large one at the front, who raised a hoof to halt them. The hoofsteps stopped.

“CELEZYON!” cried a voice overhead.

As one, the army looked up. The leader’s face broke into a grin. Fangs glinted.

“Back for more!?” she boomed, and a cackle ran through her tone. “And so soon after you’ve finally graced the mortal plane with your wonderful presence!?”

White drifted down opposite the leader, and in that instant Sunset’s mind almost fainted with shock.

She saw her first God.

Celestia! The Great God Celestia! She’s really there, in that gorge! She's so close… I could call out to her, she’s that close…

Yet as the dove-like presence descended, the shock faded away. Sharp thoughts, honed by years on the streets, jabbed at her brain.

Wait. What’s she doing here? It’s the summer solstice. She should be in her own city. Why's she down here?

Her gaze shifted to the leader, still grinning.

Who is that? She looks almost exactly like Celestia, but… dark. And her mane’s tied up neatly. She can’t really be a God from the Pantheon. Can she?

“How dare you… desecrate… my city?” Celestia gasped, landing with swanlike grace. Then she stumbled; Sunset spotted scuff marks all over her. One wing was bent far more sharply than the other, but neither folded itself up.

Scuff marks? On one of the Pantheon? But… how?

Celezyon’s grin widened. Her own dark wings remained tight across her flanks. She stood tall and proud, head held high, while below her Celestia struggled not to sway.

“Your city? You don’t deserve it any longer,” said Celezyon, and despite the grin there was steel in her words. “Small wonder. You only ever wanted their admiration. I wanted their love. These ponies behind me” – her head flicked towards the ponies on the right, then towards the ponies on the left – “would willingly die for me. That’s how strong our bond is.”

“You’ve… corrupted them…”

Celestia's yelp was drowned out by the screech of the blast. Sunset gasped and covered her mouth. While Celestia tumbled backwards, Celezyon extinguished the flames along her own horn.

“What’s love without a little corruption?” she said. “Why don’t you give in for once? Let your hair down.”

Gritting her teeth, Celestia forced her limbs to brace against the ground. Another blast: another of Celestia’s yelps was cut off.

No, thought Sunset. Suddenly, she wanted to evaporate on the spot. She hadn't asked for this. This wasn't supposed to happen.

“I draw strength from my followers. Now I have enough to replace you for a thousand years. Where are your followers, Celestia? Too busy writing poems that praise your pretty face? What a waste.”

“No…” Celestia tried to stand, but her smoking legs collapsed underneath her. “Not again…”

“You see,” said Celezyon, advancing with all the leisurely pace of a lioness, “I don’t assume I’m too perfect for this miserable world of dung and dirt. I learn from my mistakes. You don’t.”

“You’ll never… join… the Pantheon.” Celestia was almost wheezing now. “Don’t deserve… You’re… no true God…”

“Wrong. You don’t deserve to be part of the Pantheon. I deserved my chance long ago!”

Celezyon’s flames shot from her horn. In midair, they coalesced, lined up, curved and crackled, until a fiery bow of black hovered between them. One burning arrow grew from the string to the shaft.

Sunset held her breath as the tip aimed downwards. She’d break into any number of homes and take any number of jewels, but she would not… could not…should not watch anyone die. The certainty seized her. But what could she do?

“You…” Celestia hissed, “can’t… kill me.”

“Neither you me,” said the dark God. “But this time, I won’t be the one waiting a thousand years for another shot.”

Sunset threw as hard as she could. For a second, she barely realized what she’d done.

Too late, fear and shock gripped her, and by then the trophy was soaring through the air to clang on the dark God’s horn.

One of its handles looped perfectly over the tip. A thousand gazes watched in horror as it twirled around and around and then finally settled, dangling from the horn’s base, over Celezyon’s left eye.

Which spotted Sunset. The trophy melted and dribbled off the dark God’s face, revealing the fangs bared, the lips curled in hatred, the blazing golden pupil pinning Sunset down against the barren rocks.

“Uh…” Sunset began.

Celezyon's leap shot her straight up to the lookout in one blink.

Sunset scrabbled to flee, but then the dark horn loomed over her, her neck tightened in some eldritch kinetic grip, and the snarl scorched itself across her vision.

“You little guttersnipe!” Celezyon aimed the flaming arrow.

It went out.

The dark face exploded with alarm. Eyes widened – the pupils were mere motes of gold against blackened sclera. The mouth stretched in a scream too tortured to escape. Muscles and jaws twitched under some painful effort.

“Back,” said Celestia’s voice behind her. “Back to the darkness with you.”

By the time Celezyon finally managed a scream, its echoes were already lost among the shards as her body shattered. Shards shattered into ash, ash shattered into smoke, and smoke thinned and faded into the air along with the pained cries of the dark God.

Right behind the vanishing remains, Celestia stood almost perfectly upright. Her horn blazed with yellow light. A fiery arrow – golden, this time – hovered where Celezyon’s chest had just disintegrated. Beyond the God, Sunset heard the thin hiss of a thousand more bodies vanishing into nothing.

Then they were alone.

Sunset no longer felt anything inside. Nevertheless, she rushed forwards as soon as she saw the fiery arrow die and Celestia collapse, groaning.

“Oh my god,” said Sunset. “This can’t be real. This can’t be real.”

“Th… Thank you…” whispered a voice in her ear.

“Me!?” Sunset scanned the rocks; a colder, slightly unreal part of her mind possessed her. Perhaps that way would be best, it thought, directly to the city, or maybe the hermits have some medicinal herbs in the hills over this ridge…

Something told her a God didn’t want to be seen in this state by a lot of ponies. They’d find it hard to venerate a beloved figure when she was struggling to stay upright.

Sunset made for the hills. She knew those hermits. They didn’t care much for theft and punishment, except as topics to meditate upon. Sacred hospitality was a fine tradition to exploit.

When she glanced across, Celestia’s small smile went out. “Your courage… granted me strength.”

“But I didn’t… I mean, I’ve never… Not that I wouldn’t have done, but… Look, all I did was stop her killing you. That doesn’t make me a devotee. I was just in the right place at the right time.”

A small sigh. “It’s enough that… you were there.”

“That was luck. Besides, what else was I supposed to do? Let you die?”

Terror and excitement engulfed Sunset's mind. Already, she could feel her old life crumpling away like paper. She didn't know how she knew. It was just there. Whenever she opened her eyes, the world was just there too.

She felt alive.

“I won’t forget… this honour… She was right… I shouldn’t… forget…” After that, the weight pressed down hard on Sunset’s withers. Celestia didn’t say any more.

Under the blazing solstice sun, Sunset had to drag her new God through every mile of crag and crevice. Alone. She had plenty of time to think.

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