Songbird

by PaulAsaran

Chapter V

The forest had a name. Celestia knew this for a fact, but she simply couldn’t recall what that name was. Or the name of the town nearby, even though she was sure she’d been there recently. Her head felt thick. A fog had settled over her mind, put in place by some malicious being, and trying to peer through that veil proved beyond her.

Yet the nightingale insisted, fluttering about her with its demanding calls before diving towards the edge of the woods. Celestia hesitated. Something waited out there, hidden in the shadows. She couldn’t recall what, couldn’t see it, but a deep part of her understood that this path led to danger. It was not a rational fear, but it was a powerful one regardless.

“What am I doing here?” She glanced to the northeast. Canterlot Castle was but a shadow on the horizon, pressed tight against the Lonely Mountain. Her parents were there. And Twilight. Surely they must be worried about her. Maybe if she—

Grunting, Celestia dove after the nightingale. Her eyes followed the bird as it darted among the trees, leading her gaze to… What’s this?

A pony, glaringly pink in the darkness. The mare looked oddly familiar. Seeing that the nightingale was perched on her back, Celestia ignored her reservations and drifted to a landing a few feet away. The young mare was giggling as if she’d just thought of Equestria’s greatest joke. She sat with her tail wagging and her eyes half-closed to make room for the beaming smile on her lips. The nightingale merely stood there, watching Celestia approach.

She couldn’t explain what it was, but Celestia sensed something different about this pony. Compared to Twilight, compared to her parents, the young mare seemed almost… fresh. Her coat shone in the darkness and her laugh was to Celestia’s ears what cake might be to her tongue. A genuine sound, an honest joy. And now that Celestia gazed upon this mysterious figure, she realized that up until now every pony she’d ever met had seemed hollow. Mannequins. Dolls made to say and act and believe as somepony else desired. But not this mare, with her bouncy curls.

Why?

“Excuse me, my little pony.”

The pink pony waved with childlike enthusiasm. “Hey there!”

Celestia waited for a bow that never came. The fact was… refreshing. “May I ask what you are doing here?”

The young mare chuckled. “Sure you can.” She swayed back and forth, humming a quick tune.

It took Celestia a few seconds to grasp her meaning. “Oh… um… What are you doing here?”

“Just giggling at the ghosties. But I gotta get back soon, the girls are gonna miss me.”

“Girls?” Celestia glanced at the nightingale. The bird countered with a blank stare. Returning her attention to the mare, Celestia asked, “Do you need any help?”

“Nope, but you sure seem to.” The mare reached back to pet the nightingale, which cooed pleasantly. “Just follow the birdie. She knows where to go.”

A blink. “Who are you?”

“I’m me, and you are you, unless you’re not you, but I don’t think so, because that would get confusing and you’re confused enough as it is. Just take it fast and don’t think too much! Oh!” The mare’s ears perked and began to twitch in wildly different directions. “Gotta go!”

Before Celestia could say anything more, the pink pony had darted off into the forest, the nightingale flying off her with a disgruntled squawk. The shadows consumed her brilliant colors within seconds.

“Wait!” Celestia followed without thinking, quickly becoming surrounded by tall trees and darkness. “It’s not safe in there!” The pony did not answer, but her singing voice echoed through the oppressive black.

Giggle at the ghostly…

“Please, come back!” The trees loomed over her from every direction, limbs reaching low as if to grasp her.

Guffaw at the grossly…

“Where are you?” Celestia searched frantically, heart thudding with a fear that the mare’s brightness would fade as it had for everypony else she’d known.

Crack up at the creepy…

The forest blurred. The nightingale sang. She needed to leave, she had to keep going! “Come back. Come back!”

Whoop it up with the weepy…

The underbrush grew more dense, spiked vines snapping at her passing and leaving small cuts across her chest and legs. The bushes became like walls, but she tore through them in a frantic rush!

Chortle at the kooky…

She was running. Why was she running? There had been a pony, a mare, and she’d been beautiful! But why… why… The nightingale flew overhead.

Snortle at the spooky…

Danger. Voices in the shadows. Ponies pleading, ponies threatening, ponies crying. Celestia didn’t know where she was anymore, or why. The nightingale… she just had to follow the nightingale. Why was she following the—?

She burst into a clearing, stumbling to a stop as the voices and laughter and ethereal music ceased. Knees shaking, chest heaving, Celestia gazed upon a small hill covered in brown, dry grass. The stars above did little to brighten the place, which appeared to be cloaked in its own shadow.

A vague shape stood at the top of the hill, hidden by the unnatural darkness. Cautiously, Celestia approached. Every step felt as though she were lifting lead weights, and though the incline was shallow, it took all her determination to keep climbing it. The creature at the top of the hill… just seeing it filled her with an inexplicable dread. Was it casting some kind of spell upon her, hoping to weaken her or frighten her into leaving?

“Hello, Celestia.”

Her ears perked to a voice both familiar and alien at once, layered with a guttural growl and a shrill whistling in the breaths. “Starswirl?”

“Yes, Celestia,” the figure replied, his voice like rocks grinding together. “It is me.”

She paused, peering in an effort to make out more than a silhouette. “How do I know that for sure?”

It said nothing for a time, and every passing second weighed heavier upon Celestia’s mind. Would it strike? Flee? Or do nothing at all?

“Use your horn.”

Such an obvious, simple solution. Yet Celestia found herself hesitating. “I… I don’t think I want to.”

“Use your horn, or go back home.”

Why couldn’t he do it? Why didn’t she? She thought about it, prepared herself to do it, but… the magic wouldn’t come. Perhaps she should go home. Maybe there she wouldn’t have to fear this strange creature that claimed to be—

“Starswirl is dead,” she whispered, pushing back the doubts that may or may not be her own. “How can you be Starswirl if you are dead?”

The figure shifted as if to turn. Its face remained invisible, but she could feel its eyes upon her. “Use your horn and see the truth, or go back to Canterlot and live in blissful ignorance. I will say no more until you’ve decided.”

Silence fell upon the clearing. It was deeper than any silence she could recall, disturbed by neither wind nor creature. Even the nightingale had gone silent, lost somewhere beyond her vision. Celestia licked her dry lips and steadied her fluttering heart. A simple light spell. More basic than anything else a pony might try. But Celestia faced a powerful sense of wrongness in the act.

No, not the act. In Starswirl. Did she really want to know? If she didn’t like what she found out, would she be able to do anything about it? Starswirl was dead. She knew this to be true deep down in her heart. It had happened long ago, longer than most ponies today could ever realize. For a time it had seemed as though he were alive, but…

She growled and shook as if to rid herself of water. “No. I won’t succumb to this… this malaise. I won’t think about it.” Thinking about it delayed the inevitable. So the inevitable became act, and she lit her horn.

Starswirl stood before her, withered and frail in the pale light, his features rendered gaunt by the shadows. The familiar hat was gone, and his beard soaked in something dark. The liquid dripped onto the grass, spreading its taint everywhere it went. And with her awareness of it came the coppery scent Celestia had always loathed, the scent of fear and hate and anger and loss. His eyes stared back at her in sunken, dark sockets as he sucked in slow, grating breaths.

The sight tore at Celestia’s heart. “Oh, my old friend. What happened to you?”

A slow, rattling breath. “You killed me.”

“Killed you?” She pulled back, wings fidgeting and ears tucked. “You were my student, my dear friend. I wouldn’t.”

“Then why do you feel such guilt?”

“I… I don’t know.” His words were true, the emotion roiled within her. But she would never…

“You could have stopped it. I warned you it was coming. I did everything I could to convince you.” His words were soft, but his eyes hard. “Why didn’t you listen to me, Celestia?”

Her chest felt caught in a vice. “I don’t understand! What did you tell me?”

He leaned forward, the blood pouring from his beard and down the hill. “The griffons, Celestia. Remember the griffons.”

“The griffons? What do the—?” But she knew. Had always known? A famine, a necromancer, blame in every direction. Assassination. Peace talks falling apart, an invasion. So many details were lost, but Celestia didn’t think them truly gone. More like they were hidden, the curtain parting just enough to let her know there was something there.

And what she saw burned her like a brand in the gut. So many ponies and griffons dead, so much anger and hate, so much violence. “Th-this… Why am I remembering this?” Her gaze met Starswirl’s. “What does it have to do with you?”

He hardly moved save for a shudder that racked his body with every other breath. “What set the blaze?”

She shook her head. “I… I don’t—”

As if a cord had been cut, Starswirl dropped to the dead grass. His eyes turned glossy and blank, the breathing ceased, and the blood seeped into the earth. Celestia gaped at the scene, the air stuck in her throat at the image of her friend as she’d found him so, so long ago.

A knife, curved and dark, protruded from the back of his neck.

“No…” The blood formed around her hooves, never quite touching them. “No. Please, I don’t want to see this.”

Starswirl’s voice arose from all around her, seemingly conjured from the air itself. “No?” The shadows surrounding Celestia began to undulate, a swarm of snakes just beyond her vision. “You came to this place. You asked the questions. If you didn’t want to see, didn’t want to know, then why are you here?”

“Because the world is wrong!” She stepped back from the corpse. The blood now covered the entire hill in a thin layer of foulness. Yet it remained clear of her hooves, retreating from her steps like a living entity bashful of her touch. “Everything is wrong, and I know it. But this…” She forced her eyes upon Starswirl’s body. “Th-this cannot be my fault.”

“You need not know the truth, Celestia.” Starswirl’s ghostly voice was soothing, gentle. “The truth is only agony. Go home. Be content.”

“B-but I…” Celestia reeled from the heady scent that consumed her focus. “It needs to be fixed. I can’t live like that. I have to—” It took all her will to bring her gaze back to Starswirl’s body. She remembered his angry glares. She could not recall his exact words, but the fierceness of his tone remained clear as day. He had warned her that something would happen, something with the griffons. What had he warned her about? A threat. An enemy. Something—

“Celestia. It’s alright. Go home and forget. It is nothing you need concern yourself about.”

“You’re wrong.” The blood flowed away from her as she took step by shaky step closer to the corpse. “It’s n-not alright. I must protect Equestria. I must protect my p-ponies. That sometimes means being hurt.” Her hoof reached tentatively for the knife. The squirming shadows grew restless, black tendrils waving in the edge of her vision.

“Starswirl. What did I do to you?”

The instant she touched the knife, the blood surged. It got on her hooves, climbed her legs, roiled and splashed. The revolting feeling of it, warm against her sides, made her retch. She attempted to fly, all her instincts screaming at her to get away, but the sticky mass congealed on her coat and sucked her down.

Her scream pierced the night air. “Starswirl! Make it stop!” The blood splashed against her chest, lapped over her back. She lit her horn and fired a repelling beam of magic, but it passed through as if the liquid were mere illusion. Yet it was no illusion; it rose higher and higher, past her withers, climbing up her neck, encasing her. “Starswirl!”

Blood coated her mouth, but didn’t invade it. She searched frantically for something, anything to save her, but there was nothing. It crossed her nostrils; the heavy, coppery scent made her gag. Her wings were stilled, pulled down by the clingy, gooey crimson. Just before it reached her eyes, she stole one last glance at the corpse at her hooves.

Why?

Images flashed through her mind. Guards bursting into her court. Starswirl’s tower looming. The mage lying on the floor, face down. A knife sticking from the back of his neck.
Her heart sizzled agonizingly as the image burned its way into her. Who did this?

More images, yet they were blurred. A trial? No, a council. Indecipherable shouting.

War.

Smoke and fire and anger. Burning anger. Something blue and glowing like a mighty star, piercing her eyes and setting her brain on fire.

What is that?

Blood. More blood. Anger. Marching among the steppes, an army stretching for miles. Banners, blades, bows. Rage.

I went to war?

Rage. An army defending a city. Blood. Feathers and smoke and blood and rage and hate and screams.

But Equestria doesn’t…

A face. A male griffon, staring up at her. Young, armor loose, axe trembling in his grip. Golden hoofguards slamming him to the ground. Anger. Screams. Fury.

Anger.

No more.

Rage.

No more!

Blood and screams and pleas.

Make it stop!

Something pulling her away. Feathery wings, an embrace.

Blue.

Make it stop!

---

“Make it stop!”

She sat up, the scream lifting her from where she lay. Cool air. Gentle breeze, trees all around. Stars.

It took several seconds and many rapid, gasping breaths for Celestia to realize she was no longer in the war. The moment she did, she collapsed, fetlocks covering her face as a sob tore through her body. “What have I done? Oh, Starswirl, w-what have I done?”

For petty wrath. Because her beloved student and friend had been murdered in his lab. Because he’d tried to tell her, again and again, that a danger existed. She’d dismissed his fears, thought he was being paranoid. Her lack of caution led to his death, and her vengeance-fueled rage had led to even more bloodshed. So much more…

A cooing sound drifted into her ears, almost like a caress. Lifting her head, Celestia discovered the nightingale beside her, its head bowed. She was tempted to grab the thing in an embrace, but instead she just let her chin rest on her fetlocks and let a few more weak sobs out. “I loved him like a son. Did you know that?”

The nightingale turned its head to her, watching with unblinking blue eyes. It appeared strangely solemn for a wild animal. Maybe it really could understand.

“It wasn't war. It was slaughter. I… I really did it, didn’t I? How could I forget something so horrid?” Her gaze drifted to the area in front of her. Starswirl’s body was gone. She reached out to feel at the grass where it had lain, no longer dead but soft and cool. “I was so angry. I let emotion take over. Starswirl, I think he’d have been disappointed in me for that.” She closed her eyes to recall his smiling face. “I wanted to make it better. I didn’t want to be remembered as a warlord. It was so long ago.

“Do you…” She cast a shy glance at the quiet bird. “Do you think he’d forgive me if he saw Equestria now?”

The bird stiffened its posture, head rising and eyes boring into hers. She felt as if it had some message for her, although she couldn’t fathom what that message might be. “I know, Equestria is in a terrible state. Old friends coming back to life, students proclaiming their love for me when I know they don’t feel that. My parents…”

A thought occurred to her. Was the place she’d come from really even Equestria? Everything had been wrong. Off. Improper.

The shadows of the forest swirled as though alive, and Celestia sat up quickly when she noticed. Was it reacting to something? She turned her head to study the surrounding apparition, pausing only for a moment to dry her tears with a wingtip. “What is this place? Why did I even come here?” She looked to the nightingale. “Is what just happened even related to the troubles besetting Equestria?”

The bird flew in a circle above her, stardust drifting off its tail in sparkling waves. It sang and danced in the air, gradually moving farther away. Celestia understood its intent quickly, but hesitated to stand. She could follow, and perhaps she’d find more forgotten memories if she did. Having those back would be… well, if her recent experience was anything to go by, perhaps it wouldn’t be ‘nice.’ And would Equestria be helped at all by her getting those memories back?

The shadows in the corner of her vision squirmed. Of course not. Memories are formless, pointless things. Equestria is real, and it needs my help now. I can’t go gallivanting off on some selfish quest when my ponies need me.

Celestia nodded firmly and turned away from the nightingale, but paused as she gazed at the darkness. Had those thoughts been hers? Were the things behind this situation trying to dissuade her? Or perhaps it was the nightingale. It might be the enemy’s puppet, tugging her along on some misguided adventure while Equestria fell further and further into the abyss.

But if that were the case…

It must be. This journey does nothing for Equestria.

Despite the thoughts, she looked to the hill where Starswirl had once been. He’d gone, and the hill appeared as healthy as any place in Equestria. It looked… peaceful. A war had been started, thousands had died, but this area had healed. The wound set upon her mind didn’t feel so raw, and as much as she loathed her past actions, she was glad to have relearned something. It had been an important time. Without it, she’d been missing a piece of her life. Would she even be the pony she was today without that horrible lesson?

“I must learn more. I can’t help Equestria if I can’t help myself.” She turned back to the nightingale, which promptly darted into the forest once more. Celestia followed its song, not hesitating to enter the treeline even as the shadows coiled and writhed. Her confident show seemed to pay off, for they fled from her approach. She lit her horn to aid her steps, and this made them retreat all the more.

Yet they still lingered, swirling and coiling among the trunks and limbs and leaves. Celestia paid them little mind, confident that her light would hold them at bay. But even as it did so, she had to wonder. Was the forest cursed? Under the control of some malevolent being? It may even be the same wickedness that had Equestria so thoroughly in its clutches.

And her memories had been hidden here. Why?

She couldn’t be certain, but she could fight it. If she got all her memories back, maybe things would be clear again. There might be a specific recollection, a bit of info that the darkness wished to protect from her. Celestia had to believe this, for why else would the darkness of this place be so determined to keep her from her past? There was a truth here, and she would recover it.

The truth would be guarded. That’s what Starswirl was, she assumed; a guard to protect her from the war. And not just the war, but also his death. That lay on her hooves, even if indirectly. Even now, with the memory settling into the nooks and crannies of her mind where it belonged, she felt the sting in her heart. She was responsible. How many more things would she find herself responsible for when this was all said and done? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, prompting her to ruffle her wings in agitation.

A rise in the volume of the nightingale caught her attention, and she took stock of her surroundings. Her ears folded back at the sight of withered trees, their trunks blackened as if a fire had come too close. The farther she walked, the fewer leaves she saw. The grass grew brown, and then black. Gradually, black became the white of ash. Unlike before, when the forest had closed in on her, the trees were spread apart enough to let her see a great distance. This allowed her to view the glittery tail of the nightingale as it flitted among the limbs, always just close enough to be clear and easily identifiable, and always moving in the same direction.

West. Celestia didn’t know how she knew that, but know it she did.

Something appeared in the distance. She noticed it before she could make it out, save that it was too low and wide to be another tree. Her pace picked up, her eagerness to know more taking hold. The shadows had retreated entirely now, leaving her alone to explore this new discovery. Soon she even passed up the nightingale, which stood atop a nearby tree branch in silence.

It was a wooden platform, and on it sat a figure surrounded by four pillars. Soon Celestia was able to identify the figure as a blue griffon with a brown head. Something black was settled upon her shoulders, round and hard to identify at a distance. Her heartbeat began a drum in her ears as her suspicions were confirmed.

Dova Sposoba watched her approach with wide, owlish eyes. “Celestia. You c-came.”

The item around her neck was a rubber wheel. What was she doing with something like that? And why was she— “Dova, why are you chained to those pillars like a common criminal?”

The rattle of the chains echoed in the still air as Dova lurched forward. “I didn’t do it, I swear!”

“Calm down.” Celestia sat and made a placating gesture with her hoof. “What are you accused of?” And why would the accusers decide to imprison her way out here?

Dove didn’t pull back, straining against her shackles as she cast her pleading eyes upon Celestia. “Please. I know we had our differences. Starswirl didn’t like me, but you can’t condemn me just because of that!”

“Condemn you? Why would I—?” The words caught in her throat as comprehension dawned. Dova was another guardian. Another memory lay trapped here, and somehow it had to do with her old friend. Her heart sank as she thought on the most recent visits she’d had with the griffoness. Had she been nothing but a puppet all along?

Dova finally stepped back, the chains going slack but never touching the floor of the platform. She reached up as if to grasp the wheel around her shoulders, but her bindings wouldn’t let her talons reach that high. Her upper arms were squeezed together so tightly Celestia imagined they were cutting off her blood flow.

“Think about what you are doing, Princess,” Dova whispered. “Think about who you want to be, who Starswirl would want you to be. Is this it?”

“I don’t understand.” Celestia took a tentative step forward. “What did I do?”

With an ungriffonlike whine, Dova pulled away from Celestia’s approach. “You don’t have any evidence. You can’t prove I did it! Equestrians value fair trials! Think about the example you’re setting your people!”

“Dova, please!” Celestia raised her hooves once more. “You’re babbling! Just calm down and—”

“I was your friend!” Gone was the fear, replaced by a grimace. Dova twisted and shook and fought her bindings. Her growls and snarls grated in Celestia’s ears. “You can’t do this to me! The King will have your head for this!”

“Enough!” Celestia slammed both forehooves into the ground, the force of the twin blows making the trees shake all around them.

Silence came over the forest. She ground her teeth together as she met Dova’s gaze, taking in the ambassador’s scowl. It was then that Celestia became aware of her seething breaths, her tense wings, and the roiling sun within. Her veins burned with the desire to lash out at something! Yet she had no idea why she was angry, and that gave her pause. These feelings tearing into her head…

What was she trying to remember?

“This is very griffon of you, Princess.”

Something about the cold, hard way Dova said that caught Celestia’s attention. She felt… ill. Like a poison had entered her body by the ears and threatened to twist her insides into ugly knots. “D-Dova, what—”

“You were wrong.” The corner of Dova’s beak curved in a half-smirk. “You’re more like a griffon than you think.”

Before Celestia could fully process the statement, a spark lit from seemingly nowhere. An instant later, the rubber wheel around her friend was in flames. By the time Celestia registered what was happening, Dova’s shriek pierced her. She jerked back, covering her ears as the fire rapidly engulfed Dova’s head. Feathers curled and melted as she jerked and twisted and wailed, the rubber dripping onto her body and carrying the horrible fire with it.

“Dova!” Mind finally catching up to the horror, Celestia lit her horn and attempted to conjure water. The liquid formed on command and splashed over Dova’s head in a thick deluge, but the fire continued as if the water wasn’t even there. The helpless prisoner continued to screech and twist, the flames climbing down her body in a relentless march.

How could the… oh, Goddess, was the fire enchanted? Celestia tried an ice spell next, and was treated to a visual display defying logic as the ice and the flames existed in tandem on Dova’s stiffened body. The fire licked and danced within the ice, reflected a thousand times in the creases and facets, and though Dova could not move a muscle, her screams could still be heard, muffled and desperate.

“No no no…” Celestia shook her head frantically as the ice cracked, then shattered. The shrieks reached a fevered pitch as Dova continued to squirm. Adding her own scream to the chorus, Celestia fired a beam of magic at one of the chains holding her friend down; it passed through as if it weren’t there at all. “No! Dova!”

She acted without thinking, charging onto the platform and reaching for her friend. The moment her hooves touched Dova’s shoulders, she shrieked. The flames snatched her up eagerly, consuming her forelegs, her chest, her wings, her head, flowing over her as it were a living thing hungry for more flesh to consume. Fire, once her most earnest ally, now became her torturer. She attempted to pull away from the searing pain, but her forelegs had become encased in the bubbling rubber. Her wails joined those of Dova as the scalding heat pierced her brain—

Dova, fighting her ponies in some far off city among the steppes. Pony and griffon bodies surrounded her. More griffons than ponies by far.

Though all reality burned, Celestia managed clarity. Dova, why?

A pony’s eyes vanished amongst blood and claws. Dova dodged a green bolt of magic. She fired a crossbow at the assailant. The unicorn fell from the rampart, a shaft in his neck.

Dova, it’s me! Stop this!

A pegasus swooped down. Dova surprised her by leaping into the attack at the last minute, dodging the spear as her beak tore into the pony’s wings. She kicked him the rest of the way down with a paw, sending him skull-first into the stones.

Flames licked at the scene. Celestia howled as her mind roasted.

Dova paused to stare below the ramparts. The army, the product of an Equestrian war machine, filled the steppes like a tidal wave of iron and flesh and steel. Magic flew alongside arrows, mighty siege engines lobbed flaming boulders, the air shook with the war cry of tens of thousands of soldiers. Dova’s face went slack, her eyes widening as she surely recognized the inevitable outcome of the battle.

Celestia approached. Somehow, in some way, through all she could feel was searing flame, she approached at a speed like lightning. Fury joined her agony, curses on her cracking lips, hatred stabbing into her soul with all the ferocity of the fire now consuming her.

And still she managed to cry out. “Look out!”

Her friend, bloodied and beaten, looked up too late. They collided, and Celestia’s vision was consumed by smoke.

When it parted, they were in a courtyard. Dova sat, chained to a familiar platform. Celestia writhed and screamed even as she put the rubber necklace upon the griffon. Shame. Anger. Guilt. Fury. Agony. It all roiled within and without, threatening to consume her. The army of ponies cheered and called for blood, called for fire, called for vengeance.

Celestia delivered. She felt her horn light up without warning, and Dova was once more consumed. She shrieked, she wreathed, she pleaded and begged, and Celestia joined her in the dance of agony and rage and fire.

Slowly, Celestia realized that the only screams in her ears were her own. Her body no longer burned, the air was no longer consumed in smoke. Her shrieks eased, leaving her panting on her side and her throat scratchy. She could only stare across the dead grass, mind gradually soaking up the fresh, grotesque imagery. Fresh tears streamed down her face as the mess of memories coalesced into one simple fact.

“I k-killed her.” The sob tore into her already stinging throat. “I had no proof, and… and I killed her!”

It was only war.

Yes, war. A war brought about because diplomacy failed, because she failed. Starswirl’s assassination had broken something inside her. And Dova, she’d disappeared that same night, hadn’t she? Celestia had been so certain of Dova’s involvement, and when she’d seen her at Byeliye Skali…

She didn’t want to believe it. To think that her hooves were stained with that much blood, that she would react to anything with such wanton violence? But the memory was locked in her skull once more, firm and unwavering. She’d done these things. Dova had been captured alive just to be executed by necklacing. She’d lit the flame with her own horn! Trembles rushed up and down her body as the screams echoed in her head, banging relentlessly against the inside of her skull.

But the worst of it was a lingering doubt, an appalling awareness. Was Dova guilty? Had she spent years in Canterlot, befriending Celestia and earning an honorable, respected reputation, just so that she could act when called upon? It seemed like such an outlandish idea now, but looking back, Celestia had been confident. And with that confidence, she’d enacted revenge against an old friend whose greatest crime may have been only to defend her home from the Equestrian invaders.

Invaders.

Celestia hid her face beneath her wing as more dots were connected within. She had invaded. It wasn’t a response to griffon aggression, the Equestrians were the aggressors! “Oh, Father, what did I do?”

There had to have been some evidence that the invasion was warranted, there had to be. She could remember the growing war fervor, the calls from the public for action, the anger and the frustration. Yet the one thing she could not recall was any proof that the griffons were responsible for Starswirl’s death, the beginning of a long line of events that brought the fury of a nation upon them.

An unnatural cold seeped over Celestia as something else dawned upon her: she had no idea what happened to the griffons. Were there any left? Had she exterminated them in some sort of hideous genocide? She knew, somehow, that she’d won the war. Beyond that, everything was blank.

Celestia didn’t want to think about what she’d done. She wasn’t sure she deserved to think at all. So she just lay there, her body heavy with her guilt. Her mind struggled to avoid the hideous truth of her past, and yet the more she fought it the more she thought about it. Starswirl insisting there was a griffon threat. Dova pleading her innocence before her immolation. Armies on the march, armies under her command. So much death. So much destruction.

Gradually, half-blinded by tears, she turned her eyes to the stars overhead. They seemed so beautiful. More beautiful than she deserved to witness.

Go home. Forget your sins. There is no need to wallow in this grief. No need to know more.

“No… need?” The idea danced in her head, strange and alien and not her own. She could feel her frown intensifying, a tightness forming in her jaw. “That’s not true.”

Go home. Nopony need remember your faults. Go be at peace.

“I don’t deserve peace.” With a grunt, Celestia beat back the weight of her misery and sat upright. “These things aren’t meant to be forgotten.”

But they are. They hurt so much. Nopony wants to hurt. Nopony would blame you for wanting to escape the pain.

“I would.”

Though her legs shook slightly, she managed to stand on all fours once more. She took in the forest, expecting the area might have been ‘cleansed’ as Starswirl’s hill had. Yet, while the grass had indeed grown back and leaves adorned the trees, the vegetation remained sparse and thin. It all appeared unhealthy, as if recovering from some recent trauma, and Celestia found she could still see a great distance through the trees.

Dova and the platform, however, were gone.

Now more than ever, Celestia was certain of her path. She imagined that things would only grow worse from here on in, but she couldn’t stop now. Though forgiveness for her sins was not possible, she might still find the lost memory that could help her fight the darkness. When everything was right again, her memories back where they belonged and the shadows banished to where they came from, then she would begin her penance.

But first, where was her guide? She looked about the trees until the nightingale came into view, perched quietly upon a nearby tree limb. “There you are. Come, we must be going.”

The bird did not move. Its round eyes were set upon something. Something… over Celestia’s shoulder? She turned and felt a tightness in her heart.

Twilight Sparkle stood but a few yards away, posture low and tail between her legs. Darkness swirled about the young unicorn, who looked up at Celestia with tear-filled eyes. The whites of one of those eyes had turned a deep purple, the iris a bright yellow. Wretched and shaking, Twilight opened her mouth to speak in a trembling, whining voice.

“P-Princess. Help me.”

Comments

[Ayla]

8905633
I was thinking the same thing.

[KorenCZ11]

>The young mare chuckled. “Sure you can.” She swayed back and forth, humming a quick tune.
1) Reading this sentence suddenly turned Pinkie into Danny Avidon in the Starbomb Street Fighter rap. (explicit) 2) Shining vibes from Pinkie here? A better example would be Fate/Extra's Alice since I've actually seen that, but that's an obscure Anime reference, even for a weeb like myself.

>“I k-killed her.”
So. Archduke ferdi- cough Starswirl is assassinated. In true McCarthyism fashion, a witch hunt ensues and Celestia bares down upon the gryphon emissary for revenge. After which, the real war probably broke out.

We travel deeper into silent hi- cough the Everfree, and we learn a little more about the incident that started the equestrian crusades. Dant- cough Celestia confronts her first two circles of hell. Starswirl's death results in Wrath, which leads to killing Dova which leads to Envy, to take away what the gryphons have. Onward to... Lust probably, given the earlier interactions.