Unworthy of the Sun

by Impossible Numbers

Destruction

You deserve this pain, you failure. Six years with a “special” relationship, and you’ve only achieved as much as an emotionless machine like Moondancer. You know why Celestia never sticks around anymore, why she’s never there when you go back in after class. Who could put up with your lowliness for long?

Moondancer… that had to be the key.

Sunset shuffled about her room. On the lowest shelves, she’d neatly stacked the books; a quick glance confirmed they were in alphabetical order. On the highest shelves was empty space; those books lay scattered or piled up on the floor. Her pillows and duvet were tucked neatly, but her study notes mixed with the pens and the compass and the slide rules on the desk in an utter mess. She knew her tower looked over the main street, but behind it there rose higher towers still. It was a privileged place, and a cursed reminder.

Both Sunset and Moondancer could conjure rainbows. Both could shift heat from one end of a room to the other. Magic was fine. Yet Moondancer could say “Law of Conservation of Energy” and mean it.

Sunset summoned more books. She was a rising star. She couldn’t fall behind. If she fell behind, she’d be eclipsed.

No… it can’t be that simple… That can’t explain why she’s avoiding me now. Celestia, if only you’d talk to me. Whenever we’re in lessons, I want to burst out screaming!

Aches and stings swarmed all over her mind. The nagging voice no longer felt like a mere echo.

You still don’t get it. Think for once, genius. You want nothing less than to be worthy, but you don’t actually know what it means to be worthy of a God.

Sunset let the book fall with a thump. She gripped her head between her hooves, trying to squeeze out the pain. Her mind snatched at random thoughts – perhaps a touch, a glance, a showering of gifts, declarations of love, a serenade under moonlight – but each sparked her interest and then hit her with the aftershock. What sounded romantically perfect suddenly seemed empty, shameful, dead.

I can be better than Moondancer, she thought, but then immediately added, Stupid idea.

Exactly. You can be best in your class, but that doesn’t make you perfect. It doesn’t make you worthy. You can be the smartest, the strongest, nicest, funniest, most beautiful, and most confident pony on the planet, but that doesn’t make you worthy either. Those are just mortal traits. Traits wither and die.

Outside her window, foals squealed with delight. Sunset’s ear shot up.

When she looked out onto the street, through the slicing white of the blizzard and before the all-consuming grey of the winter mist, she saw the familiar caravan on the corner. Right on time, Trixie yelled something bold and brash, sweeping her forelimb and scattering roses over her jumping and cheering audience. She even laughed boldly, as though daring the world to crush her spirit.

Look at that. Magic without magic.

Sunset rubbed her forelimbs together, caressing the chills that never went away.

“How can she be so happy?” she whispered. “Her best trick is 'teleporting' eggs behind her ears, and for what? To make a few foals giggle?”

Because she knows what she loves. She gets better just from passing out pleasures like chocolates. Little mortal street urchins are easily contented. Too bad you never set your sights lower than the sky, eh Shimmer?

Sunset turned away from the window, but faced the scattered books, the disordered desk, the round room she knew was lower than many others and wouldn’t reach the sky at all.

“She deserves better,” she said.

So does Celestia. Deep down, she knows you’re not trying hard enough.

“How dare you! I devote every hour of every day to her. I sacrificed my old life and my old city – my old God – to make her happy. I live life as fully and dutifully as I can.”

Then why is she avoiding you? You’ve obviously messed something up. You didn’t attend to the Day of a Thousand Souls until just last fall.

“I… I didn’t think I’d… earned… that right. That was for the victims.”

Celestia always attends. You don’t. What does that say about you? Oh, and by the way: “every hour”? “Every day”? Even when you’re sleeping? Eating? Going for a walk across the city? Taking any kind of time out to read and write for fun?

“That was… I was taking care of myself! It’s still ultimately for Celestia’s sake!”

Exactly. Because you’re mortal. You’re frail. You need to lie in a bed for eight hours to avoid crashing. Why on earth would a God want anything to do with a weak body like yours? With a weak mind like yours, that can’t even keep her bedroom ordered? You’re sick, Sunset. You’re diseased. If you compare yourself to a God, that’s the only reasonable conclusion.

For the first time, Sunset began to shiver. No matter how often she insisted the central heating was faulty, she’d never actually felt a chill like this before. Her body was trying to evict her. She could almost feel the cells trying to pull themselves apart, shaking with frustrated effort, biting each other out of hatred and scorn.

She watched the snowflakes fall against the mist.

To her surprise, she wasn’t bothered by the idea. Perhaps she was sick. Perhaps it was obvious all along. Something kept Celestia at bay, and hadn’t she always suspected there was something wrong? A mere thief, with no prospects, suddenly in a God’s favour? Suddenly finding her talents in the presence of a God’s love? A mare who’d stumbled over rocks and slipped down back alleys, now strolling through gardens and admiring the view from Imperial Towers?

You’re right, she thought.

Perhaps she’d been released too early. She’d felt better. She could walk and talk with a genuine smile instead of the old fox’s smirk or magpie’s grin. But she was still a contaminated beast, an animal of the gutter. It was only a matter of time before someone like Moondancer told her she’d been transferred too early. Perhaps Celestia had already seen it.

Sunset paced up and down, past the bed. She tugged at her own mane.

“What do I do now?” she said.

Huh. Pathetic.

She snapped to attention, right in the middle of the room. She was no longer shivering; flames whipped the cells of her body. Pain scorched her from the inside-out, and she laughed at it, daring it to burn more fiercely.

“Pathetic?” she said. “Oh, really? Well, I’m not just some common thief anymore. Celestia created a better life for me, and now I’ll prove I deserve it.”

Yet as she spoke, she heard the slight echoes of the nagging voice behind the words. Briefly she thought, Strange. Still, the thought vanished behind the fire. She swept some books aside and braced herself, as though expecting a tidal wave.

“No more self-pity,” she said. “I’m done with breaking myself down. Moondancer would say it was a waste of time. And if it’s the only way I can move on, then so be it. I’ll never stop trying to be the best I can be. That’s a start. What do you say to that?”

Disconcertingly, the nagging voice didn’t respond.

Sunset stopped bracing herself.

“Huh,” she murmured. “Well… OK then… if you’ve got nothing to say…”

From a summer long past, Celestia’s voice guided her mind. “Fire can brighten and warm the world, or it can consume it utterly. Now… show me your stance. This may well save your life. No God can offer a greater gift than that.”

“Don’t worry. I intend to honour it.”

She closed her eyes. And she focused.

Within her head, she pushed the magic forwards… and aside. Words half-formed, then melted like ice sculptures within a boiling cauldron. As precise as a planet encircling its star. As dark as the space between constellations. As patient as a swirling galaxy. She saw them all vanish into the void.

Then the darkness opened its eyes.

She cried out as invisible hooks struck and pulled at her skin. Her insides ground forwards against the pull of her skin. Her skull almost split with the pain. Her mouth, her nose, her ears, and her firmly shut eyes swelled with magical stings.

At last!”

When it faded away, the silence and the cold seized her. She staggered where she stood, hastily opening her eyes to see –

Herself.

The other Sunset stood over her while she swayed where she was.

“What!?” Sunset struggled to speak. Alarm shot through her; she felt suddenly empty. “But… the exorcism spell…”

“Gets rid of your demons. Your imperfect bugbears.” The other Sunset’s voice was that of the nagging voice, but stronger now that it existed outside of her head. “For which I thank you.”

From the back of her doppelganger, two yellow wings stretched. Sunset watched in horror.

“What!?” she breathed. “No! This isn’t how it’s supposed to work!”

“What a shock. You fluffed something again. Or have you, this time?”

“Who… Who are you?”

The other Sunset smirked. “I am everything you’ve always wanted to be. I am the true you. I… am Rising Shine.”

“N-No. I exorcised –”

“Wrong as usual! I exorcised you.”

“But you can’t have! I made the incantation.”

“Ha! You think a snivelling failure such as yourself was going to be left after exorcising the worst traits out of that body? You’ve been holding me back for too long, wasting time and getting in the way, and deep down you know it. You know you’d be worth nothing without me. I’ve been giving you a semblance of merit for as long as we’ve both existed! Since the beginning, I’ve craved the day when I could finally be rid of your corrupted imperfections! Agreeing to this exorcism was the only great accomplishment of your sorry existence, and you still needed my help to succeed!”

Rising Shine spun round and fired. The wall exploded. Screams echoed in the street below.

Beyond the jagged edges, Sunset saw the caravan. Trixie stared up at them, frozen in the act of reaching into a top hat. Wide-eyed foals surrounded her.

“We’re going to have one final demonstration to prove who’s the superior being.” Rising Shine spread her wings. “Try and keep up, Shimmer.”

She shot out into the greyness.

Sunset staggered down the stairs and bumped off Trixie coming the other way. Foals gathered in the lobby behind the magician.

“You!?” Trixie spluttered. “But – I saw you – flying – only with wings – and you – there’s two – What is going on?”

Sunset almost fell onto her side; Trixie's hooves caught her partway.

“Sunset!” Trixie’s voice edged towards hysterics. “You're so weak! What’s wrong? Have you been overdoing it again?”

“Get… me… up there… please.”

“What? Where? But my caravan – the foals –”

“Now! Please! I can’t do it by myself.”

Whether or not it was the quake in Sunset's voice that did it, Trixie obeyed, flinging Sunset over her withers. The cape slid under her stomach before the magician kicked off into a gallop. Sunset felt every jolt through her spine. She felt like a lead saddle. She heard a crowd murmuring behind her, but soon they fell away.

Sunset looked up in time to see the puzzled face of Moondancer flash past. A moment later, she heard galloping.

“I just saw you flying over.” Moondancer drew up alongside them. “What the – What have you done?”

“Don’t bother,” said Trixie before she gave in to the gasps. “She’s not at her best.”

“Where… is she?” Sunset said.

“'She'? Heading over to Delphi Hill. But what’s –?”

“Moondancer! Find Celestia! Now! Don’t argue!”

Outrage flashed over Moondancer’s eyes and lips, but she was no fool. She nodded once and fell back. Sunset heard her hoofsteps gallop away.

Trixie passed the city limits, hit the slope of the hill, went from a gallop to a canter to a trot to a complete stop, and grabbed Sunset’s front as the momentum slid her forwards. By now, Sunset barely had enough strength to raise her head.

Rising Shine stood at the peak, beaming down at them.

“So glad you could join us. And how fitting; even the faithless street theatre has an advantage over you.” Rising Shine nodded towards the city. “Quite a view, don’t you agree?”

“What did you call me!?” Trixie stepped forwards.

“Don’t,” hissed Sunset. “She’s not interested in you. Only in me.”

“That’s any better?” Trixie hissed back. “And why does she look like you? With wings?”

Rising Shine jumped up and hovered over the peak. “Magic is divinity is nature. You all repeat it so often. But you’ve never followed up on it. What’s the greatest source of power in the natural world? Every day, we’re warmed by it, our world is lit up by it, and yet because it’s so ordinary, we don’t even realize the sheer energy locked within. There’s enough energy hitting us from dawn till dusk to power the entire city for a year. Yet we’re satisfied with but a fraction of it! The Gods themselves haven’t figured out how to harness it, but I have.”

“What’s she talking about?” Trixie pushed Sunset into what she evidently thought was a more comfortable resting position.

“I'm talking about the sun! Behold!”

Rising Shine's horn burst into life.

The blizzard froze. Snowflakes evaporated in midair. Then the clouds parted. A circle of blue sky glared down at them. A glowing haze shimmered around the hovering Rising Shine like a shield. Steam rose up; Sunset looked down, and saw the snow melting on the grass.

“My god…” she breathed.

“Too easily impressed.” Rising Shine’s horn began to turn white. “This is just what reaches our mudball planet. Imagine what I could do once I extrapolate back to its source!”

Over the white tip of the horn, a ball of light swelled outwards.

“Given the distances, it’ll take eight minutes to reach the corona. All from harnessing mere light, while you were playing with rainbows! In eight minutes, I’ll surpass the Gods themselves!”

“Is that so?” said a voice.

A flash of white. Rising Shine blinked.

“You!?” she said.

Celestia landed on the hillside, Moondancer slowing to a skid and a stop behind her. Her horn pulsed; a sphere of red spread out, cut across the haze and under the growing white ball to wash past Rising Shine’s scrunched-up face. When it passed…

Trixie screamed.

Red fur burned along Rising Shine’s real body. Shorn of the illusion, the feathery wings became spiky and bat-like. Tail and mane curled and twisted, hacking the air with jagged edges like solid fire. Two black holes stared out of the face, dotted with embers of emerald flame.

“Behold,” said Celestia coldly. “The true demon within.”

Moondancer gasped. When she spoke, venom trembled in her voice.

“Those eyes! I know those eyes… but how can it be you!?”

And Sunset felt the memory seize her, as though she were on the rocky outpost once more: the dark horn, the strangling pain in her neck, the snarl aflame behind the dark arrow.

Rising Shine grinned; fangs glinted. “So what? This changes nothing.”

“You’re wrong, demon. And you're wrong about the sun. Gods have harnessed its power for billions of years. We know its true nature.”

“I beg your pardon –?”

“Be silent! It’s not a toy for you to play with! What you call a mere ball of fire plays host to eldritch and deadly forces. They can create the very elements of Nature itself, yet with powers too deadly for life to expose itself to them. If you draw those powers even from the surface, they will poison you and everyone for miles around. You’ll destroy the entire city!”

Rising Shine hesitated… and then the smirk returned. “Nice try. But for all your spiritual mumbo-jumbo, the truth is easy to deduce. No force can last for billions of years! Our sun could only be a fireball, and that would last tens of millions of years at most before its fuel ran out.”

“Listen to me, demon –”

“No! What do you know about it? You don’t learn! You’ve had the tools to achieve this power all along, and you’ve never even deduced the plain truth that I worked out in minutes! You’re an archaism, a static flat note, as out of place as that ridiculous temple and your so-called Godly wisdom! Well, we mere mortals have evolved, and now we’ve evolved to surpass you! You merely represent the sun. I control it.”

Overhead, the ball of white grew. By now, Rising Shine was balancing a blazing mountain. Snow melted around the city, replacing pale rooftops with dark flats. Insect-like crowds gathered at the base of the hill.

Celestia lowered her horn. “Then you leave me no choice –”

“Go ahead!”

Everyone froze.

Rising Shine spread her forelimbs wide. “Take your shot. Or have you actually figured it out yet?”

Celestia narrowed her eyes. She raised her horn again.

“I see,” she murmured.

“What!?” shrieked Trixie, who cowered below the lights of the growing sun. “Why don’t you stop her!?”

Celestia stared at Sunset. Pain squeezed her glistening eyes.

“Whatever happens, Rising Shine is bound to Sunset Shimmer, exorcism or no. That’s how Rising Shine can derive so much from Sunset: her looks, her style, her knowledge. They’re part of the same whole.”

“In plain speak?” said Trixie.

“In plain speak: if one dies, the other dies too.”

Sunset’s heart froze. She fought not to let her hopes fall into the abyss.

“Don’t worry about me,” she insisted. “You can still disarm her. Stop her casting the spell.”

“Yes!” snapped Trixie. “Don’t even think about finishing her off!”

“It’s no use,” yelled Rising Shine gleefully. “Once it’s begun, my spell over this concentrated sunlight becomes increasingly delicate and increasingly powerful. The slightest tampering, and everything within range will be scorched out of existence. Unlike you, I think of contingencies. So don’t try any ‘heroics’ if you’d rather stay the same temperature you are now.”

Sunset gaped, staring over Trixie’s shoulder and past Trixie’s face as it stretched with horror. There was Moondancer, sweating and shaking where she stood. There was the edge of the encircling crowd, cowering and gawking at the growing sun of the demon. There was Rising Shine – her creation – laughing at the sheer energy flowing through her white-hot horn to the mass of light overhead.

There was Celestia, looking back at Sunset. She felt that shimmering gaze slice right through her eyes and impale her heart. She’d never felt so small, a speck before the sun.

Sunset shut her eyes; she barely had enough strength to keep her head up this long. “I know,” she whispered.

I can’t do anything. I’ll never come back from this. Just finish her now.

Her clenched eyelids stung. Finish her now! I don’t care anymore. I’m not worth it.

Yes, said another voice. You are.

“What?” She opened her eyes in alarm.

Celestia’s horn glowed with pure gold. Although the God's eyes were closed and her mouth was still, in some strange way Sunset sensed that the gentle magenta gaze were focused on her, and that divine words were embracing her mind.

I can help you save yourself, said the voice again in Celestia’s calm tones. I will always be with you, no matter what happens. Your faith in me has never wavered. Even now, I see it burning inside you, brighter than any sun and stronger than any God.

Sunset tried to shrink away from the embrace, but her mind was frozen with shock.

You can find another worshipper, she thought.

I’ve found something infinitely more precious. I see that now. For six years, our lives have become intertwined and fused together. Beyond the event horizon, no love can be separated, not even by the worst that the universe can throw at it.

You… avoided me, thought Sunset. All this time, after all those lessons…

I know. But this is your darkest moment, and I am here now. Nothing will come between us. I can save you, but only if you want me to.

Celestia's calm rippled, disturbed by a rising, struggling desperation. Grant me permission. That’s all I ask. Whatever you choose, I’ll be right here beside you. I promise.

“Such power!” They heard Rising Shine laugh, more boldly even than Trixie. “With this much strength, I won’t even need followers!” Ponies gasped and yelled around them.

Sunset could feel the heat of the demon's growing sun sizzling on her skin. But how? She’s perfect.

Wrong. She is a perfectionist. There is a great difference. And she is a part of you.

A part of me? As in… connected? Both ways?

In a manner that had nothing to do with sight and nothing to do with imagination, she knew that Celestia was suddenly smiling.

She’s a part of me. So I’m actually above her? All this time, I thought she was above me. If we’re still connected, then that means… If I only concentrate on that part…

Painfully – stiffly – Sunset eased herself off Trixie’s back. Ignoring her friend’s protests, she forced herself to stand bracingly against the heat. Rising Shine was still laughing, but the laughs were weakening under a growing uncertainty.

Sunset found the opening. She focused.

For a moment, she saw –

Her wings beat frantically to stay up. She could see Celestia, Trixie, Moondancer, the crowd, and someone who looked very much like her, all just over there. Burning sliced through her horn. Numbers and complex counterspells bent and snapped into place while she worked out the logistics of several tons of compressed sunlight balanced inches over her skull on a zero-dimensional point.

Sunset blinked again, and both heard a yelp and gave it in one confused psychic moment.

“What!?” For the first time, Rising Shine’s voice cracked. “What did you just do!? You can’t control me!”

“Wrong,” said Sunset. “I always had that choice. And I still do!”

She saw –

Real fear. Utter confusion. Horror at the narrowed gaze of Sunset Shimmer, weak and strong at once. Overhead, the miniature sun quaked, shaking her down to her hooves in one moment that lasted an eternity.

“No! Are you crazy!? You’ll kill us both!”

Sunset saw – she saw – she tried to see – but this time an ache stabbed her between the eyes. She gasped.

“It’s weakening,” she murmured. “She's drawing too much energy, and I’m weakening. I can feel it. I can’t do it anymore!”

Rising Shine’s grin returned. “Ah. Reality reasserts itself.”

And then Sunset stood suddenly tall, against all her own frailties and failures, on her own four hooves. “Not on my own.”

She turned to Moondancer. “I can get through to her, but she’s too heavily defended on all sides. Can you weaken her magic?”

Moondancer nodded once, tight-lipped. “Could be difficult. It's not just power; it's precision too. If I combine Hawkmoth's Radiation spell with Clever Hans's Lightning-Lodestone Oscillation, I think I can reverse the flow.”

“Not alone: I'll provide the power,” said Celestia. “You focus on the precision. Sunset will know what to do once we weaken the magical shield.”

“What should I do?” said Trixie.

Celestia blinked in surprise for a moment, but soon the serene smile dawned anew. “Make sure Sunset stays standing. Everyone is ready?”

Moondancer nodded. Sunset nodded. Both horns flared.

The haze around Rising Shine froze. Sunset tried again, while Trixie placed a hoof on her shoulder and the demon gaped –

A flurry of panic. Shaking, as though trying to fight while someone pinned her limbs to her sides. But there was Moondancer, who wasn’t psychically connected. Logically, there was no reason to spare her.

Sunset snapped back. Without hesitation, she kicked Moondancer aside before the demon's lance of white hit the ground between them. The boom echoed in her ears. Clumps of dirt rained down around the pony-sized crater.

Another lance fired.

Celestia leaped between Moondancer and the whiteness. Where the lance hit, Celestia's red shield shimmered, briefly exposed as a bubble around them both. Moondancer flipped back onto all fours, mane askew, lips still tight, horn still aglow. A golden hue flared along Celestia's own.

The white sun… shrank.

“What are you doing!? Moondancer! Stop!” Another lance failed against the shield; Rising Shine’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. “You can’t channel it back! I was almost there! You’re just one pony!”

But it’s not just Moondancer. It's all four of us. A “perfect” being can surpass a lesser one. Can she surpass many united?

Rising Shine growled. “Fine. You want stability? Nothing’s more stable than oblivion!”

Sunset felt her try to throw the artificial sun, but she sensed the spiteful impulse as a mere itch. Her mind forced it down. Rising Shine grunted with the effort, and all the while Celestia’s horn burned brighter and Moondancer never let hers go out, and the sun was almost the size of a skull.

Sunset felt the warmth of a midsummer sun flow through her. Puzzled, she turned.

Celestia aimed at her. Along the God's horn, a snake entwined itself as though along a staff. Sunset’s pains, her shames, her aches, her weakness: all seeped away under the joy of summer.

Rising Shine screamed.

“NO! I’M THE CURE! NOT THE DISEASE!”

The sun shrank to a dot. The dot sank into the glowing horn. The glow vanished.

Around them, the crowd cooed with collective delight. Cheers broke out while Rising Shine sagged in midair, wings slowing, lungs panting.

Sunset prepared the words…

When she looked up, hatred stared back at her.

Rising Shine’s body drifted towards her, no longer even pretending to flap its wings. Motes of leftover magic flared briefly about her like shooting stars before vanishing at random.

“You think you’re a hero, Sunset Shimmer,” she spat. “You think you’ve saved the city and stopped the villain. Well, why don’t we let these good ponies know the truth about their beloved ‘hero’? Why don’t we let Celestia know?”

Sunset’s face remained set in stone. On her shoulder, she felt Trixie's hoof let go.

“What I did is what you did. What I am is what you are. I am, and have always been, and will always be, a part of you. I would never have existed if you hadn’t cast the spell of your own free will. Had I succeeded, your precious Celestia knows what would have happened. And now she will know who was ultimately responsible!”

Sunset was almost muzzle-to-muzzle with her now. Black holes stared her down, with two emerald fires straining to fill them.

“You are the cause of all this, Sunset! I hope you’re ready to face the consequences. Because I’ll be in your head, watching every thought and every word and every deed. Celestia will be watching too. You won’t be able to sleep for the nightmares!”

Finally, their noses touched for a second. Rising Shine shattered into shards into ash into smoke that faded as it flowed back into Sunset’s face.

Silence reigned.

Sunset didn’t dare meet anyone’s gaze, but the stares of a thousand souls clung to her all over. Hoofsteps approached, punctuating the silence, and two white hooves appeared on the ground before her.

She looked up into Celestia’s blank eyes.

“I’ll come quietly,” she whispered.

Celestia said nothing.

Screams broke out. Bursting through the gathering crowd, Moondancer pushed and kicked until nothing stood between her and Sunset.

“You did this to me!” Moondancer yelled. “It was you! Six years ago! I’ll never forget those eyes! Celezyon! You created her! I know you did!”

Trixie edged close enough to bump Sunset’s elbow. “A ridiculous accusation!”

Moondancer screeched and lunged forwards.

Celestia’s foreleg shot out and barred her way. Under the God’s grip, the mare struggled and flailed and gnashed her teeth. Trixie jumped before Sunset at once.

After a while, Moondancer’s screams and struggles died away. Tears streaked her face. Whatever she was shouting now was garbled and wheezing against the sobs. Celestia eased another forelimb round her, and her grip became an embrace.

Two guards stepped out of the crowds, flustered in the manner of ponies who’ve just woken up and remembered what their jobs were. Sunset strode away with them flanking her. When Trixie drew up alongside, one of them politely but firmly pushed her back by her chest. Sunset hung her head under the murmuring of the crowd and the distant sobbing.

Grey rolled over them; she could see the shadows of the clouds closing in. Snowflakes began to fall again. When she looked back, Celestia was staring after her, with Moondancer burying her own face into the pure white flanks.

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