Piece of Parchment

by Metemponychosis

Grassbreath and Hairball

Celestia squealed and jolted to the side mid-flight. A bolt of lightning barely missed her. Her horn became sore, and her feathers puffed up. Her nose itched and it didn’t help with the heavy rain she had to fly against. The residual magic clung to her horn and her feathers worse than the cold water from the storm, though. Her whole body felt heavier.

She stopped climbing, drawing a deep lungful of air and sneezed.

After shaking the uncomfortable numbness out of her head, she gave a determined stare and renewed her efforts. She fought gravity, wind, and rain with all her strength. The wind tossed her around, despite her significant size, and the rain seemed determined to weigh her down. Celestia convinced herself the storm actively tried to resist her. Given how things worked in Equestria, it might even be true.

“You’re not stopping me, silly rain!” She gave a decided stare and kept flying up.

Definitely not a normal storm, it bore too much coincidence with a strategic spell. The sort only a handful of unicorn groups, herself and Luna could cast. King Sombra might have been able, in his time, with significant preparations and resources. Farfalla and Chrysalis too. Probably Twilight, Starlight, and Cadance too… Her mind meandered. The point remained no other creature should be able to cast such a spell and a nightmare certainly didn’t fit.

She cried and barely dodged another lightning bolt. Almost as though the cloud responded to her challenge. Its heat washed over her, searing hot against her magical wards and the ones on her royal regalia. Her eyes stung at the chemicals it filled the air with, and it might explain the renewed stuffiness on her nose.

She sneezed again and took a second to recover from the magical aftereffects before she frowned and resumed climbing yet again.

Luna’s unexplained absence too nagged at her mind, but Celestia would rather not think ill of her sister. Her obligations to the magical system of dreams often kept her too busy, and the storm made communication of any sort difficult.

Despite Luna being the only one who could confirm her claim a nightmare was responsible, she wouldn’t lie to Celestia. Not even when she became Nightmare Moon, Luna would lie. She would say hurtful things, during the process. Isolate herself and speak aggressively to Celestia. But she never lied.

Next time lightning struck, she had properly shielded herself in preparation and the magic from the lightning bolt didn’t affect her so much. She felt the buildup of magic. It only bothered her with a fleeting numbness she quickly recovered from. It still scared her a squeak out of her, though. Panting and flapping her wings to stay hovering, she put out her tongue and blew at the storm. The violently convulsing clouds only grumbled indifferently in response.

But it only stopped Celestia for a few seconds as her mighty wings beat again with renewed strength and took her against the wind and the rain. Rather than entering the cloud and immersing herself in its wild, uncontrolled magic, her own magic ripped open a hole through it. The dense and thick mass of water, ice, wind, and wild mana tore like she had opened the mouth of a wild animal. She could see the starry sky above and flew through.

Chocolate would’ve said clouds were quirky in Equestria, but it seemed a bit too much.

Once through the significant layer of cold and wet darkness, the moonlight showered everything with its silvery light. The top of the cloud seemed much calmer, despite the strong winds and sizzling magical power manifested in the form of lightning bolts. Eventually, they shot up or snaked across the cloud. She kept flapping her wings or the wind would drag her down to the cloud and she soon spotted what she looked for.

A group of five pegasi wearing the blue jacket of the city’s weather team hopelessly fought against the winds. They tumbled around and fell face-first into the cloud only to be shocked by electrical discharges which launched them right back up with rattling yelps. A cute cyan and white mare held her heavy gray partner in the middle of unintentional pirouettes.

Frazzle-maned, shaking his head and coughing out smoke, he saw Celestia and gasped. “Oh, my Celestia! It’s Princess Celestia!”

As she approached, the others converged around her, including their team leader. A big and strong-looking mare with a gray-green coat and a darker mane. Properly wearing the leader bracelet on her foreleg. Celestia addressed her. “Where is the rest of the team? Where are the griffons?”

“We’re kinda it.” The cyan mare responded with a wince before the team leader threw up her hooves.

“The griffons can’t come out and help. These storms mess up their noodles and they go crazy.” Team leader complained. “So, we’re left alone to deal with this monster every time it shows up!”

Thunder crashed, shooting down from the clouds and flashing above like it wanted to let them know it heard them. The pegasi winced and a younger orange mare squeaked.

Celestia frowned. “What do you mean? What happens to the griffons?”

“They get weird dreams.” The leader clopped her hooves. Like, really bad dreams and some of them even have hallucinations and freak out. Something about an urban myth nonsense of some griffon lady in their dreams. It’s just a strange magical storm.”

Made sense, Celestia concluded with a nod. “Where does it come from? Where does it form?”

The team leader shrugged and pointed. “Wherever it feathering well pleases! It just comes up without any warning and pretends the city’s sky belongs to it!”

Celestia watched as the mare calmed down and sighed. “We don’t really know. We don’t have trained unicorns to track it down. We just fight and lose whenever it shows up and moves over the town.”

She started losing her composure again and waved her legs around, letting her voice raise. “I tried getting the mayor to requisition a unicorn team. The city council, community leaders and I even went to King Grover’s Plaza with pamphlets, but nobody cares! ‘Not enough money’, ‘non-issue’, ‘deal with it, lazy pony’ they said, among the nicer things!”

She sighed again and let her head and legs hang. “Working with griffons is so hoofing frustrating.”

“Well, there was the old griffon lady… Some kind of shrink from the hospital that supported us.” The male told her while his team leader nodded sullenly. “She got our superior to tone down the schedule, but the problem isn't the storms we can make. It’s this beast from Chaos!”

Celestia nodded at his words too. “If you can’t control it, what causes it to subside? Does it simply shed its magic and evaporate?”

“It usually calms down by sunrise.” The lead mare opened her forelegs. “I don’t understand. Most storms lose strength, shedding water and magic. These ones feel like they could go on forever, but they calm down in the morning and pick up again in the night.”

Celestia shook her head. “This is not a chaotic storm. This is most certainly a strategic spell.”

Since the five pegasi simply stood hovering above the cloud and stared dumbly at her, she went on. “Quickly, please. Help me disperse it! I will try and subdue whatever magic is feeding it and then you should be able to disperse it as usual. But it should require a great deal of focus.”

She thought of bringing up the Sun and letting its magic wash over the storm to help her but decided against it. The sun, randomly appearing, would surely cause panic and chaos she’d rather not deal with. If anything, Celestia knew her subjects.

With a moment of mental preparation, she directed her attention at her magical senses and what they could tell her about the storm. It brimmed with magic. It shone with white searing light only her magical senses could see, and it didn’t surprise her. Storms, like anything in Equestria, carried magic with it. Thunderstorms even more so, as the residual magic in the air formed them at random wild locations. Then they moved as the wind carried them. But weather teams didn’t typically take them into civilized areas unless they were reigned in and ‘tamed’ to substitute for normal, pony-fabricated storms. Especially because the Harmonic magic in heavily populated areas dissipated them rather quickly.

The storm carried a mighty amount of magic, and it was no wonder it affected the minds of creatures. But such detail didn’t bother Celestia nor corroborate her theory that the storm had been fabricated. The fact it didn’t seem to shed its magic did. It shot lightning bolt after bolt, but it still shone so bright in her magical senses it challenged Celestia’s own sun. Something had to be feeding into it.

She focused her mind on the layers of magic which made up the storm. An intertwining flux of magical energies, rather simple, formed it. A mesh of different materials with different characteristics to make up a fabric. Like cotton, which gave clothes softness while silk gave them shine and durability. The combined effects of magic made up a spell, and a trained creature with the necessary magical senses could examine them.

Layer upon layer of organized magical energy, made from distinct effects woven around each other. Like a weaver making fabrics, connecting each to other into an exquisite work of art. So well made Celestia couldn’t help but admire the expertly weaved spell.

She found it problematic, as a chaotic storm born out of the Chaos inherent to the magic of the world ought to be just so. Chaotic. What she examined lacked the orderly organization of unicorn magic, though. Lumps of angry reds, sad blues, and happy yellows, with all the colors of emotions besmirched it. Otherwise, a perfectly and tightly knit fabric of magical energies, typical of unicorns, it defied Celestia’s knowledge of spellcasting.

Even ones such as King Sombra or Queen Chrysalis, with her strange and caustic magic, would not emotionally mar their spells so. Even if emotions could amplify spells, and it was a common technique, it usually involved simple spells which became completely taken by such energies. A spell of such power and complexity as the storm required levels of focus unattainable if one allowed such emotions to distract them.

Seeing things the other ponies couldn’t, Celestia grimaced. No way in existence that monstrosity of a thunderstorm had been created by a nightmare. She pursed her lips. It resembled Discord’s magic, but it would never conform to the smallest level of Order. Had he authored the thing, it would look just like a natural storm.

Hovering above the angry clouds and under the stars of the five pegasi, her horn shone with gold as she examined deeper. Could it have been Gilad? Doubtful, as not even Emperor Grigor had a similar power in his time. The storm simply contained too much magical energy.

“Is everything alright, Princess?” The team leader gave her a concerned stare.

“Don’t worry.” Celestia down one side and then the other at the storm with the chiming of her lit horn. “This is a complex and powerful magic. I am studying it so I can safely dispel it.”

Turning back to the subject of the conversation, she again focused her mind on the magical energies her horn picked up from the storm. Since it didn’t shed away its magic like a normal storm, someone, or something, actively maintained it. But much to her surprise, the magic in the spell seemed to be self-contained. It shouldn’t be possible. It gave off magical energy simply by existing and every time it shot lightning.

There must be something beyond what she saw. And the puzzle which presented itself, one in a thousand years that made her smile.

Then she frowned again. Come to think of it, this reminded her of the primordial magic which shouldn’t be found in the world anymore. When the mountains were young, and the rivers first flowed across the land. From a time of inconceivably powerful magic ruled by emotions and primitive intellects. Charged with emotion which imbued purpose into the magic of creation itself.

Such magic could be found on irrational magical creatures, such as ursas and timberwolves. The Windigos themselves and even on Celestia's overwhelmingly powerful magic which controlled the sun. Could a nightmare, as a magical monster cast this sort of spell if they made it to the waking world and charged with power? The alternative was too unlikely and terrible to contemplate.

She frowned again and turned back to the pegasi ponies behind her. “I must study the spell further. I need to reach deeper into it, and this might be dangerous. Please, watch over me while I am busy.”

“What?!” The lead pegasus mare squealed. “Watch over you?! Us?!”

Explaining would require more time than Celestia wanted to invest, so she ignored the pony’s protest. Once again, she turned to the storm and her mind focused on the magical energies sizzling through it. Surprisingly, the spell seemed much more complex than it needed simply to sustain the storm. Whoever made the thing meant for it to do something else. In fact, the storm itself sustained the spell, as much as the spell sustained the storm. A spell within a spell of a storm. Both camouflage and a vehicle for its existence.

What was the extra spell meant to do? Given Luna’s accusation a nightmare could be responsible, and the effect she’d been told the storm had on griffons, she could hazard a guess.

She focused on the individual layers of magical energy and their thaumaturgical effect.

Deeper inside, past the layers which formed the coalesced dampness of the cloud, all the lightning and all the energy it carried, she found the inner layers of magic. One layer transmitted information. Much as a classical scrying spell, the cloud allowed the caster to witness what happened beneath it.

Normally spells with such effect would be connected to a point in space and someone with her training could follow a thin thread of magic back. If discovered, a spellcaster would quickly cut the thread and forfeit the spell. But the one on the storm used a variation with formulae used for teleportation spells. Whoever cast it expected it would eventually be scrutinized. They used additional time and dealt with the mental requirements of a more complex spell to avoid being discovered.

Certainly not a nightmare or any sort of irrational magical creature. Only experienced spellcasters, usually involved with spying or sensitive information knew such tricks. Practically no creatures in the modern world met the mental and physical fortitude required. Celestia’s mouth made a knowing smile, and her hoof rubbed her chin. If she didn’t take care, she might start admiring whoever made it.

She raised an eyebrow, though. Taking it into consideration how much damage they seem to have done already before Celestia had even realized they were under attack, she probably ought to acknowledge their resourcefulness. Gilad. Lady Gwendolen. Her Loremasters. The Sword Dancer. None of them should be able to cast such a spell.

Her mind delved deeper past the outer layers of the spell, weaving through the shaped magical energies to the core of the storm. As her mind’s eye moved deeper, so did the rest of her senses. Distant thunder echoed like inside a theater hall, and her metaphorical body tingled with the electrifying magic of lightning. Walls made of twisting light represented the layers of magic in the cloud, weaving into each other as a living being. The magical components of the storm itself seemed distant, though. She found yet another spell hiding inside.

But infiltrating it proved difficult. Celestia carefully navigated her mind within the lightning-like strands of magic. Layers upon layers of defensive spells, fail-safes ready to cause the whole thing to collapse as soon as someone tampered with the core of the spell. But millennia of magical studies proved fruitful, and her mind swirled unscathed around the magical traps with the grace of a dancing pegasus.

What she found was like the kernel inside an acorn. A tiny spell at the heart of the storm.

It sang to her. An eerie melody in a female voice carried with the distant rumbling of thunder. Incredibly subtle magic, and after focusing solely on the sound, she could swear she heard a screeching griffon.

Her hooves shook. She metaphorically winced back, and almost tripped the multiple layers of fail-safe spells. The sound sent ripples through her spine. Ancient memories bubbled to the forefront of her mind and filled her eyes with images of stormy skies and bloody fields. Fear and anger filled her, and she needed a moment to reorient herself, gasping and shaking her metaphorical head.

“What?” She whispered to herself; mouth hung open tasting of metal. Flabbergasted before the strands of magical energy. Then, with renewed drive and focus, she inched forward into the heart of the spell. Several layers of supporting and connecting magical energies into it, she found the ‘core-within-the-the core’ of the spell. Unsurprisingly complex and elegant, it reminded her of a tendril of magical energy, snaking its way along the sound of thunder. It would have been perceived as the crying bird hidden beneath the thunder.

Like a key into a lock, spinning the tumbler and working its way inside, it would enter the mind hidden behind the perception of the sound. It reminded Celestia of a story Chocolate Velvet told of his original world… The Trojan Horse.

It fascinated her. Such a component, in a traditional mind-altering spell would be a significant amount of magical energy forcing its way into the soul and mind of a target creature. What stood before her held not only subtlety, but also effectiveness. She could imagine no creature in the world who would have the knowledge and the skill to shape such a spell. It came close to the natural spells to be found in the normal functioning of a creature’s mind, so perfect, so precise it was.

Could Luna cast such a spell? Celestia had her doubts. She surely could use the magical system of the Throne of the Mind to achieve such subtlety, but not ‘from the outside’.

Celestia spent several minutes simply examining it, watching the minute spark of magical energy floating before her. Its complexity of magical effects translated into a complex pattern of shimmering lines and shapes she held ‘in the air’ with her hooves. It hissed with magic. It ‘smelled’ like a thunderstorm, like the air after lightning. The gesture put some distance between her mind and the spell. She decided not to underestimate the danger it posed.

Any spell with the power of interfering on a creature’s mind would infiltrate its inner processes and change it to the desired effect. Bluntly so, in a similar way to a drug, disrupting the normal processes and making a creature more open to suggestion, which would be another component of the spell. She could expect the one she examined to be similar.

Looking at the individual, minute components of the main spell, she found something not even she could trivially do. It required so little mana, and such made it almost imperceptible from outside. She needed to delve deeper into the spell if she was to discern its individual parts. She took a deep breath. She steeled herself and squinted. Her horn shone and she touched it with her senses.

Suddenly, Celestia found herself flying high above the sparse cloud cover. Her eyes could reach over an immeasurable distance. From above came the wondrous light of the sun and below, among the endless prairies, snaked a river with a sandy riverside. A delightful warmth filled her, and the breeze of flight balanced the hotness. She moved leisurely, letting her body enjoy the marvel of flight. Then her magenta eyes aimed below scanned the prairie. A herd of ponies grazed the new grass. Pegasi took short flights with playful pirouettes and a unicorn mare smelled the colorful flowers.

A few dozen ponies milled about, doing what they did best: enjoying life. To her magical senses, the magic they shed simply by being there fortified the trees and would soon make for a stronger place. It would brim with the life of birds, insects, and the life-sustaining magic of Harmony. Then they would move to another location as Harmony called them to heal the fragile blooming life wherever it must be healed.

A strange foreboding sensation grabbed Celestia’s throat. She stopped to a hover and frowned, scanning every direction until she saw it. A griffon, cyan and white soared the skies, coming from the direction of the dangerous, dark, and stormy mountains in the distance.

She neighed and her heart quickened. Her breath caught in her throat. Danger! A lump of fear turned to anger as memories of dead ponies came to her. Little colorful bodies, torn apart and unmoving. Death and sorrowful neighs everywhere. The emerald of the ground and the colors of the flowers tarnished with crimson, an entire herd slaughtered. The balance of magic so upset the woods would die unless another herd moved to the area, only to be sacrificed too. She didn’t care what for, she barely processed any of the meaning behind what might motivate the griffon. All she cared for was that the monster ought to be stopped before it hurt her little ponies.

And she would stop it.

She flew higher, way above where most creatures flew. In her experience, griffons seldom looked up when they flew. Like they couldn’t fathom anything above them. But when the griffon’s jerky head stopped moving, she knew it was prepared to attack. Its eyes fixated on a small pegasus mare distracted with something in the grass and the griffon circled above. Lazy circles, little flapping of wings made a predator’s silent flight.

Celestia’s chest filled with fiery wrath. She grimaced and her horn filled with so much magic it could explode, but she released it in the form of a raw beam of golden magical energy. It resounded through the air and exploded against the griffon’s side, causing grievous damage and a mist of disintegrated flesh.

The griffon barreled to the ground, rolled to the riverside. Meanwhile, scared with the sudden noise and flash, the herd initially galloped away. The bulkier males approached to examine what had happened. They reared and neighed full of alarm as the griffon stood as best as it could, literally missing a part of its right side as it had been replaced by charred flesh.

Celestia neighed and tossed her head, quickly landing amid the ponies, nickering them away with nips to their manes and ears. Fearful, she approached the griffon, snorting and aggressively tossing her head. Begone already, stupid griffon-monster!

The griffon, injured as it was, tried lunging at her, sluggish and unbalanced. Her magic shot from her horn again and threw it in the air further down towards the river. Just die already! She jumped after it. The agonizing griffon wouldn’t stop moving, so she grimaced and neighed all her anger, putting all her weight at her hooves and into the griffon.

Celestia screamed and pulled back. The ickiness of the blood on her hooves and the soreness of the overcast spell on her horn still clung to her. Residual fear and anger remained like a cloud of fury fogging her thoughts. Only after several breaths, with her eyes closed and stretching her leg out, she managed to calm down and recognize what she experienced. She had inadvertently triggered the spell, despite her precautions, and suffered its effects.

It had forced her to experience a memory from a past life. A memory so powerful it had ingrained itself into her soul and followed her through many lifetimes.

Words failed her and her mouth hung agape in shock in the middle of the perceived panorama inside the cloud’s magic. The spell caught her unaware, made its effect and released her from its grasp with no further disturbance. As though she had spontaneously experienced it herself. In the split second that passed Celestia realized she may have gotten used to not fearing anything for too long. Fear leaped to the forefront of her mind. She gasped. She felt stupid.

She had tripped the fail-safes and the spell disintegrated before her mind’s eye. “No, no! Wait!”

She fumbled with her magical skills, reaching forward to examine the spell again before it collapsed completely. Formulae for several warding spells, meant to shield her mind, rushed past her thoughts and activated as she poured her magic into them.

Celestia plunged into another dream of a past life, but this time she had prepared to properly examine the spell and not be carried away with emotions from the memory.

***

Celestia woke up with chirping birds and someone’s delighted laughter outside her window. A deep breath and a smile came before she opened her eyes. An amenable temperature and comfortable bed greeted her back from sleep, and she stretched her legs with a few pops and protesting lazy muscles.

Quaint creamy wood planks made the walls, one settled under the other with no internal finish. It looked rustic, but the quality both in materials and construction made it a great place to live. Sunlight barely invaded the little room through the white curtains with a knitted flower pattern. Cute little flowers with small holes for center let sunbeams in and dotted the dimly lit floor with little stars. A strange spinning contraption in the ceiling provided a much welcome breeze. It held magical light fixtures, but rather than crystals, they held bulbs with spiral filaments inside. She had to squint to see the filaments, or her strained eyes wouldn’t make them out. How could her eyes be tired? She had just awakened.

Oh… A ceiling fan. How silly of her. She chuckled and shook her head. They had been invented soon before she retired and spread all over Equestria, just like the strange ‘electricity’ thing.

“Where are my glasses?” She sat on the bed and found them waiting on the bedside table. After donning them, she smiled at her ability to see details returning.

Something nagged at her. Like an insistent alarm at the back of her head that she should be aware of something. “Huh… Odd. Did I forget something?”

Several seconds passed and her eyes turned from one side to the other. The closed window kept the cute white curtain still and the door to her bathroom remained closed, as she had left it before sleeping. Although she had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Her four faux-cloud cyan slippers sat next to her bed. The closet never left its place.

“Curious…” she raised an eyebrow to the empty air. Her room was as it should be. She could even hear the ponies talking politely outside her door. A dog barked in the distance. Just a new day in her new home.

Then some more seconds passed. Finally, she brightened and gasped. “Oh! The Super Bomberpony Championship! How could I forget?! I’m going to wipe the floor with Purple Shades this time!”

She tossed away the light green bed sheet with adorable smiling suns. Luna had called it foalish, but Celestia didn’t care. Ready to hop off the bed, full of energy in that fine morning, ready for some sweet breakfast, the small pony she’d become slowly climbed out of it. Her joints popped, her once fit and strong body showed feeble muscles and loose pelt. Her immaculate white lost its shine, shifting towards a glossless silver, but her attitude mattered more.

Her hooves landed on a crocheted rainbow-colored circular rug. Hoof crocheted, actually, and dominated most of the room. She had never owned anything like that and was beside herself when she had finally learned how to make one. She didn’t care that the circles weren’t perfect, it had personality!

She shook her body and whipped her silvery, discolored mane around as fast as her aching joints and weak muscles would allow. She stretched her neck and once proud wings to faint popping sounds, but she ignored them.

“Hello!” A mare spoke with Celestia’s own voice, inside her head.

“Uh… Hello? What?” She looked around the room and found nopony. With a grousing moan, her smile turned upside down into a frustrated frown. “Great… I’m going crazy now…”

“Oh no.” Her other voice spoke inside her head again. “It’s actually stranger than that. I need your help.”

The old Celestia sat on her rainbow rug and gave the ceiling a perplexed frown, but she kept her patience. “I have a videogame championship to win! I’m retired! Can’t you go talk to Princess Twilight Sparkle at Canterlot?”

“I am sorry, but it is not so simple. You are not awake. You are experiencing the effects of a spell crafted to cause dreams from memories of your past lives. The ones imprinted on our soul.” The Celestia inside her head told her patiently and slightly cherry.

Celestia grumbled at the out-of-control thoughts. “Luna, is this a prank? I swear I’ll kick your flank!”

“I’m sorry… But this isn’t a prank. And time is limited. Please, you must trust me.” The Celestia inside her head urged with substantial worry. It convinced her whatever the issue was, it was serious.

Celestia rubbed a hoof on her face. It should be easy to trust your own thoughts unless they run amok. She sighed and shook her head. The weird things that happened to her… “Fine. What do you need?”

“Hum… There is a bit of a hitch.” Inner-Celestia said sheepishly and caused Dream-Celestia to roll her eyes. “I’m sitting at the Throne of Life, accessing the Throne of the Mind through my higher authority… And you have lost a lot of your memories… They will only return when the Black Sun triggers.”

“What are you talking about?” Celestia raised an eyebrow. The nonsense tested her patience. “What even is a black sun? It creates light! It can’t go dark. Throne of Life? What?”

“This is so weird! I think…. Oh my sun!” Inner-Celestia cried in shock, and it made Celestia wince.

“What?! What happened?” She urged. “For pony’s sake, what is going on inside my head?”

“Sorry…” Inner-Celestia coughed. “I’ll try to explain. Once the Thrones of the Goddesses properly integrated into the minds of ponies, they achieved full self-awareness. It actually integrated us into their minds, and we ceased to exist as free entities. We became strings of magic within their minds, just as we were supposed to! It worked! It allowed the unicorns to command the Sun and protected their minds against the nightmares! Oh my sun! It really had worked! This explains everything!”

The voice inside her head suddenly lost much of its enthusiasm. “Uh… It just doesn’t explain why the Black Sun ended up being triggered or why we eventually had to help the ponies with the sun… Odd.”

“Hey… You lost me here!” Dream-Celestia grumbled.

“Oh. Sorry.” Inner-Celestia gasped. “Uh… I need to share a few of my memories with you… It could hurt a bit, but we’ll be in trouble if I don’t. You’ll understand… Just a moment.”

Dream Celestia’s uninterested expression should say everything about how much she believed the whole thing. Or how much she cared about it. “Hello?”

It had to be Luna’s most elaborate dream-prank. Then she gasped at the realization Luna had lost her powers once they resigned. “Oh… Oh my…”

Following, she remembered her world worked in cycles of creation and destruction, and that she was supposed to be important. Even more so than she was during her life. The wave of returning memories numbed her to the stinging pain in her temple.

“Oh my! What… What cycle is this?!” She blurted, suddenly nervously tapping her hooves on the floor. Although she was quite slow because she didn’t have her youthful energy anymore. “What happened? What cycle are you from?!”

“We are the sixth iteration of the Goddess Sol-Estia!” Inner Celestia quickly recapped. “Most of your memories are just locked in your soul. Everything seemed to be working after the ponies passed the Harmonic Resonance Test and the Fidelity Test in your cycle. It caused the Throne of Life to fully integrate into their minds and we were gone. But the problem with the unicorns raising the sun summoned the alicorns back… And you lack immortality… Your soul was a normal pony soul. But it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Dream-Celestia had already entered the ‘let’s get down to business’ mode and her serious frown showed it as she sat on the floor. “Tell me.”

“We are actually not in your cycle, but in the following one. Your consciousness is the real Celestia, though. You were examining a spell in a storm that did weird things to the griffons and I am the result of the spell, your mental wards, and the Throne of the Mind interacting.” Inner-Celestia’s voice raised with urgency. “You are experiencing a dream based on a soul memory. It is what the griffon spell was supposed to do. I think it was meant to make them remember something.”

“Huh…” Dream-Celestia rubbed a hoof on her chin. “That is complicated.”

“I’m not sure what to do!” Inner-Celestia whined. “I’m sitting at the Throne of Life, accessing Luna’s throne, but I don’t really know what to do. Your subconscious mind seems to have chosen this memory of the previous cycle because something important happened. Something significant imprinted it on our soul.”

Dream-Celestia’s frown changed to a frustrated one. “Nothing went wrong. I don’t know what caused the cycle to end. All I know is that there was a war. We probably chalked it up to bad luck and changed nothing when the next cycle started.”

“Something changed!” Inner-Celestia cried again. “We are different from our version in the Fourth Cycle!”

Dream-Celestia hummed. “I wonder…”

Juggling memories, especially ones so old, and that the version of her mind was not capable of recalling proved impossible. Inner-Celestia explained with a raised voice and worried tone. “The whole thing is stressing our brain. Right now, you are a recalled version of your soul in the Fourth Cycle… I don’t know! Things are weird and your memories are limited.”

“Alright.” Dream-Celestia nodded and remained calm despite the situation. “Tell me what the spell is doing.”

“Well, it seems to use the sense of hearing to infiltrate the mind. The sound of thunder carries the spell into the mind when it processes the perception of the sound. We could even hear the spell as a screaming griffon lady.” A small pause followed and Dream-Celestia heard some dials being turned and buttons being clicked. “But you used your magic on the spell and your perception of the spell activated its effect on your mind.”

“Normally, the spell should take over the memory recalling processes and equip them with the necessary magic to recall soul memories. It just worked directly on you. It then hijacked the dream loop to force a new reality to the self and force it to experience the memories first hoof. But the wards are interfering with it to give you self-awareness. At the same time, it forced your mind into the version of yourself associated with the memory. It’s literally preventing your self from fragmenting further.”

Dream-Celestia winced. That could have gone bad. Scary stuff.

“The interesting thing…” Inner-Celestia went on. “The spell missed its target memory. Probably because the spell was made for griffons. It forced our subconscious mind to pick a memory and this particular one has some important meaning to what you were doing while examining the storm. I don’t think the choice is aleatory. At all.”

“Alright…” Dream-Celestia huffed. “So… It was supposed to make griffons remember, but since the base functions of our mind’s functions are the same, it worked on me. And there is something in this dream that holds important meaning. Got it. What do we do, then?”

“I can’t keep talking to you!” Inner-Celestia cried. “Our mind is basically running three versions of us right now. I don’t know if brains can fry, but a normal pony would’ve gone insane already. I have to let you experience the dream. Maybe it will tell you what went wrong in the Fourth Cycle. I’ll try to pass along the hints from our subconscious mind! Good luck!”

Just as though her brain played tricks on her, Inner-Celestia’s voice disappeared and Celestia almost convinced herself she should see a doctor. Her eyes found the floor, but the nagging something at the back of her head refused to let her go. She frowned at the insistent thoughts she should be doing something. Somepony important to her was in danger. In fact, many creatures important to her were in danger.

Maybe she should check on someone? Who? But Silver Stable Community didn’t have a mirror room. What was a mirror room? They didn’t exist in the Fourth Cycle… They were only invented in the Fifth Cycle with the advent of magical induction engines, as the gold and crystal circuitry were similar.

Who would she call though? Twilight? Cadance?

Twilight… Twilight Sparkle.

Her eyes turned to a desk and her ears perked. Writing supplies, neatly organized, but also a newspaper and many letters. Letters she traded with Twilight after the younger princess had taken over Equestria. With her knees popping and a stinging pain on her right hindleg, she walked to the desk.

A humble, but sturdy thing where she could write the many letters she exchanged with Twilight Sparkle and Cadance. Made of soft caramel wood, same color as the comfortable sitting pillow next to it. The newspaper drew her eyes because it had a photograph of Twilight, easily seen from afar. Black and white, she sat on her throne which replaced Celestia’s, and she made a reassuring hoof gesture.

‘ “There will be no war with Griffonia. The Griffon Chancellor’s accusations are a mere misunderstanding. We will clear any questions our griffon friends may have, and this dreadful situation will be a thing of the past!” Says Princess Twilight Sparkle at the press conference following Captain Galus orders to mobilize Canterlot’s Royal Guard’s defenses for ‘the sake of peace of mind’, as he told us.’

Celestia winced at how much Twilight’s transcribed words sounded as her own. Her jaw soon hung again when despair squeezed at her old heart.

“This is not a dream!” She cried, coarse and frantic, her perky ears flopping to the sides of her head as she dropped the newspaper back to the desk. The walls closed around her, and the cute little details became eldritch sigils of doom. “It’s a nightmare of the end of the previous cycle!”

She wished Luna could save her from it, but she wouldn’t. Like a torture she couldn’t escape. But the voice she had talked to told her she needed to see something. She should experience the dream because something in it was terribly important to the next cycle. With a deep breath, she steeled herself and looked at the journal. It showed another article.

‘Griffon Chancellor Goldenwing angered by Equestrian posturing.’ The frontpage title aggressively presented with bold letters above an upward photograph of a griffon holding his talons to a pulpit. The black and white photography wouldn’t allow her to identify his colors, but he had nothing of Gail’s obesity or deceivingly placid eyes. He held a ferocity only a griffon could harbor. A strong body under a military uniform and a talon pointing up on his other paw. Behind him, a long flag hung from the wall to show the open wings of a griffon flanking triple talon marks.

She examined the photo, squinting her tired eyes and pulling the paper closer. In the background, she found something curious. There sat a selection of griffons in uniform, and among them a white and black griffon lady wearing nothing at all. Celestia’s eyes lingered on her, but she couldn’t find anything special about the hen. Only her black wings and her feathers behind her head made for a curious cowl and cape. It reminded her of Chrysalis’ natural crown, but little more. Other than the fact she was taller than most griffons, it told Celestia nothing.

Inner-Celestia was trying to show her something, but she missed it.

She turned the pages of the newspaper, noisy with the oneiric quality of the scenery. Her eyes were drawn to the room, and she tried to find meaning within the bizarre and twisted representations of her room in the retirement home. Distorted shapes unsettled her, snowed mountains replaced Canterlot on a painting hung from the wall.

A handsome brown alicorn smiled at her from a framed photo on the desk. The next one showed Chrysalis smiling deceptively at her, and the following showed the brown alicorn again, lying lifeless with a sword through his chest. A photo of Cadance had turned her into a fiery alicorn of pink flames holding forward a blazing heart. Finally, one of the frames showed Twilight posing with an unknown purple and mustard griffon. The final one showed the moon with the Mare in the Moon easily visible.

Humming, she turned back to the newspaper. It showed a column of helplessly few Royal Guards marching behind the loyal griffon who was Galus. A veteran, old of age and respected among his peers. They paraded in front of cheering ponies on the streets of Canterlot and Twilight, tall and elegant, wore her own royal regalia. She sat atop a dais but missing something. Many nobles occupied a podium next to her. They cheered at the soldiers and the crowd celebrated.

“Her friends…” Celestia mused with her tired voice. “Twilight is missing her friends.”

‘The Royal Guard mobilizes amid threats of extremist griffon purists within Hippogriffia and Queen Novo steps down under accusations of violent repression. The newly Crowned Queen Skystar urges allies “Do something!”.’

The photo made Celestia’s jaw hang again. Hippogriffs and griffons. Something important hid behind their alliance to remove her friend from her throne. She never saw Novo again…

Why were griffons and hippogriffs important?

She turned a page again and the mighty statues of hippogriffs before Mount Aris had been covered in long flags with the griffon wings and talon marks. Smoke raised from the palace and hippogriffs celebrated with griffons. Modern firearms raised, shots into the sky and cheering.

“This is wrong…” She whispered to herself. “Why would griffons do this?”

Was it Goldenbeak’s attempt at a divide and conquer strategy? Her eyes scanned the image and the flags with the griffon wings and the talon marks beckoned to her. Her telekinetic grasp adjusted her glasses and she squinted, coming closer to the page. Nothing in it seemed to stand other than the sad moment it marked.

“There was nothing exceptional about the griffons and their war…” She mused to herself, laying the newspaper down. It was the same as King Sombra. The Storm King, and every tyrant wannabe… Except the griffons managed to solidify an opposition to the whole world. Something powerful had united them.

All that really happened was that the world was sorely underprepared for a conflict of the magnitude. And so was poor Twilight Sparkle. But Celestia couldn’t blame her, as she too had not foreseen the possibility. Wars were supposed to be a forgotten relic of the past, conquered by Friendship.

The griffons had raised a strange ideology out of nowhere. They said Celestia forced griffons and ponies to mate and create hippogriffs to fight against griffons. Somehow. But the griffons convinced many of the hippogriffs they were brethren and should instead unite against the ponies. Why? Celestia never truly understood why. It didn’t make any sense.

What she did remember were the barbarities which followed, and when she turned the page, the article’s headline didn’t surprise her.

‘ “Free Hippogriffia! No to Harmonist Equestria!” Soldiers and rebels chanted as Queen Skystar was executed before the palace.’ A chilling editorial note followed. ‘This journal utterly denounces and rejects barbarity. The execution of Queen Skystar was an act of barbarism unfit to the modern world. We, with the International League of Journalism, urge leaders to stop this madness before more lives are lost.’

Celestia closed her eyes at the stab those words put on her old heart. She held the journal down with shaky hooves. “It was not my fault! I prepared them as best as I could! They should have united! They should have stopped it! Friendship should have united all creatures. It had at one point! Why did this happen?”

She flipped the page, so she didn’t have to look at that image anymore. The next showed a photograph of a distraught Twilight Sparkle, shooting her hoof forward and delivering urgent words, from her throne. Her messy mane made Celestia think she had either gotten rid of the Royal Coiffeur, or she didn’t prepare for a public appearance.

‘Earlier today a nation-wide call to arms was announced. Full voluntary conscription of all able-bodied Equestrian citizens of all races has been enacted. “We must all honor the bonds of Friendship and I urge everycreature to answer to the call of the needy!” ’

And yet, the article’s title read ‘Not Yak Problem’.

Celestia frowned and angrily shoved the page away, flipping it to the next one. Yet another article showed the elegant and strong griffon lady of black and white feathers sitting behind a pulpit. Fierce eyes and sharp, aloof expression, her plumage truly looked like a dark cowl behind her head. She held the pulpit with her sharp talons shining with the flashes. Something about her eyes unsettled Celestia, but she held such a dignified posture with her wings closed and her curious cowl of feathers behind her head. Like a cape and a cowl of black feathers against the white.

‘ “Princess Celestia and Princess Luna’s intervention in political affairs would be ill advised after their retirement. Princess Twilight Sparkle should be more than capable of ruling the nation she inherited. Was she not ready? Has she not been prepared by the best teacher she could have? It is her fault griffons are still divided against their will, in the end. Or is the Princess prepared to admit her incompetence and step down by herself? Perhaps let Equestria be ruled by someone better prepared, or a council of politically savvy ponies? I do not know… All I know is that the Age of the Alicorns fast approaches an end and if ponies go back on their succession laws, I cannot imagine the tremendous backlash it would have with the Equestrian griffon population, already kept from their homeland. To my Children sequestered away in foreign land, I advise caution. She may say someone under her administration took actions she did not condone, but can she be believed? Under the façade of friendship, Princess Twilight Sparkle may tighten her yoke around your necks. Stand fast and look after each other. Help will soon be within reach.” ‘

Her Children…. Her Children… The words resonated with Celestia. They burned at her eyes. Inner-Celestia was trying to tell her something.

The footnote read. ‘Cardinal Gwendolen spoke to assembled griffons and hippogriffs before the School of Friendship, Ponyville.’

Gwendolen…

“Gwendolen…” The syllables rolled off Celestia’s tongue. It was a griffon name. “I know this name… The griffons hate it when ponies pronounce it because it sounds more like ‘Gwhendoleheim’ in the neighing language that is the Common Equestrian.”

Before Celestia could even recover, a shower of open parchments twirled around her. One fell to the floor before her. The words, in Twilight’s lovely hornwritting, jumped at her.

‘They’re everywhere.’

‘I can’t trust anyone!’

‘I don’t know what to do!’

“Twilight… I am sorry.” She held the letter, but soon let it fall to the rainbow-colored rug.

“Cardinal Gwendolen…” Celestia mused with a deep-thinking frown. A religious leader of sorts. No… More like a spiritual leader… Or… Just a leader. A griffon hen griffons listened to, for some reason. Religions didn’t exist in the Fourth Cycle.

Celestia never truly understood what she was. Then again, at the time, she didn’t have the resources of the Royal House. Twilight should just have used the tried-and-true method she was so good at. Befriending her enemies and turning them around.

Although… Gwendolen…

Gwendolen…

Lady… Gwendolen. Lady Gwendolen of Griffindell!

Celestia’s eyes flew wide open, and a deep gasp escaped her. Images of the same dignified griffon lady flashed inside her head. “Oh… My Sun!”

She squinted and looked closely at the photograph in the newspaper. Detail for detail, she was Lord Gilad’s mate and the spiritual leader of the northerner griffons. “How? Is her soul somehow special?”

Celestia focused her eyes again, as though she could see further than the printed and grainy photograph could show her tired, used eyes. “Was she the one who led griffons into the war? It would explain why it all went so badly… She waited for me to retire and… Poor Twilight. But Why?! And why is she trying to do the same in the next cycle? Can she remember? Or is she oblivious and repeating some sort of pattern? Could the nightmare Luna suspects do this sort of thing? They are simple souls… It seems unlikely.”

“How can she exist again in the next cycle?” Celestia’s eyes found the ceiling again. “Is she a representation of the Mortality Anomaly? After all, griffons are mortal and don’t have the Harmonic Resonance system Amicizia invented.”

A rush of nervous energy washed over her as she realized her memories had ‘unlocked’. Everything returned like a flash flood with a sharp, flaring headache. It could only mean one thing… Time was up.

The colors washed away in a wave of terrible crimson. A deep growl shook her small window and the cheery little birds outside silenced. Ponies cried and shrieked. ‘What is that?!’ and ‘Sweet Celestia, what happened to the sun?’ they screamed.

“No!” Celestia wailed and her ears fell. Her heart beat too hurriedly as she made for the door as fast as her failing body would take her. Outside her door led into a cozy corridor with a light green carpet connected several rooms with a common room. Old ponies looked outside their doors and murmured concerned questions. Small tables held potted flowers. They had wilted and their petals, tinted in brown, littered the floor and tables. The lights on the corridor failed and panicked cries became more insistent. Some ponies made their way to the common room further down the corridor.

“Wait!” She followed, but her frail legs wouldn’t carry her fast enough. Her voice no longer reached as it once did and she tired from the physical exertion. Her head hurt at the weight of her returning memories. “No! Stay inside! It is dangerous! Please don’t go outside!”

She cried, but they didn’t listen. And even if they did, she knew the pointlessness. The process had already started. Flimsy wooden walls wouldn’t stop the life-extinguishing radiation once the process entered its final stage. She… Just wanted to spare them the sight. She wanted them to remember her sun the way it was supposed to be.

In the common room a young couple held a baby and a pair of little fillies cried, holding onto their grandma. They had come to visit her for the weekend. The father, wearing the blue uniform of the conscripted forces, held a passive expression and the old pony soothed the little ones. As though they, somehow, understood something was very wrong and the end was near. With the war, some ponies probably welcomed it.

“Help us, Princess Celestia!” The younger mare pleaded. A cute thing, covered in an orange caramel with white nose and socks. Her short blonde mane gave her such a dynamic visage which could not fit her panicked stare. “What is happening?”

“Don’t leave the building!” Celestia walked past the family and the retirement home’s staff cowering in the room and atrium. A sinister red light filtered in from under the doors when the inside illumination completely extinguished.

“What is happening?” One of her favorite ponies employed by the community held her delicate leg. A white and cyan pegasus of mellow voice and soft manners who reminded the old alicorn of Fluttershy. “Princess, please do something.”

“Stay inside…” She cooed, and wished they stopped calling her Princess. It hurt. All she could do was her best to reassure the soft-voiced pegasus before she reached for the door with her magic.

Walking outside, the unpleasant warmth of the all-ending energy washed over her. Red light bathed the once green field and the gray stones, carefully placed so that elderly ponies wouldn’t trip on their way to the other buildings in the complex. The rustic, but well-maintained walls of the retirement home’s main building looked sinister under the red sky. Dreadful, ill sunlight gleamed against the many windows. The brown ceiling turned to a deep crimson, just as the other homes in the city. The soft hills already turned to a wilted yellow and the dead trees began shedding their brown leaves.

Ponies caught walking, playing, or resting outside stood everywhere. They looked up in fear at the bloated and angry ball of fire their gentle sun had suddenly become. A pony mare mourned the unmoving little birds. Moments ago, they sang so cheerfully. No more butterflies. No more cute little rodents scurried the meadow and a dog howled at the distance before it silenced. The signs of a world in its dying throes.

Ponies gathered, seeking reassurance in numbers, and mumbled confused theories as Celestia walked among them. She couldn’t stare at them. Even if the world was not fated to end in minutes, they wouldn’t survive the lethal doses of thaumatic radiation they received from their failing sun. But they didn’t need to know, and she couldn’t stand looking at them.

Instead, her eyes remained on her beloved sun, sick and dying.

“Why?” She shook her head in confusion and questioned the sun. “Oh, Black Sun, part of my soul I dread so much. I beseech you, grant Our Children a peaceful passing and deliver unto me the wisdom to make it right. What happened to the griffons? They were our friends.”

Retirement had slowed her mind and allowed her body to grow weak in old age. In retrospect, it had been a mistake. Celestia would not follow the same path in the next cycle. She would remain and Equestria would be safe. War would become a strange historical reference. Such was the point of the cyclical system: memories would still hurt, but the next cycle would be different. Once she claimed her place, she would guarantee things wouldn’t happen the same.

Catching up to the fact she was dreaming of a past life, Celestia nodded at her accomplishments. The Hall of Friendship. The Equestrian Federation, born out of the war with the Griffon Empire. It was all meant to fix whatever had damaged the Fourth Cycle.

Although… She didn’t remember Gwendolen. And once again, griffons seemed to dance to her tune. After all had been conquered. All enemies had been defeated. All the friends united. Why? What was Lady Gwendolen? A griffon soul with Celestia’s power to remember past the Black Sun? A hitch within the Magical System? Was she to blame? “Tell me, Black Sun.”

As though to answer her question, lightning lit the sky and demanded her full attention, booming across the firmament. Powerful magic, like a gust of stormy wind washed over her. The scorched grass under the red light failed to shock her as much as the being which made itself from the blazing light. White as the wintery snow and black as the terror the sight of her caused, she sat on her hindlegs. Closed black wings like a cape, she raised her head to stare Celestia in the eyes. Stormy gray on her pristine white and black obsidian for a beak, terrible as her steel for talons.

The corners of her beak pulled into a smile and then she laughed. Crisp as lightning, terrible as a thunderstorm. Journal photographs showed themselves to Celestia and she saw her again. In the Chancellor’s speech. Always in the news. Always telling griffons what to do. Images of the small toy made by the nice toymaker from Griffonstone too forced themselves onto Celestia’s mind eye. Memories of the ending world fused with the memories of her present life. Celestia saw her at Gilad’s side.

But when the griffoness stared at Celestia again, she let her crown of black feathers rise behind her head. Celestia gasped. Lightning flashed before eyes, and she saw herself in a dark rocky badland. With the mountains for background, Celestia saw her. The monster in the storm. The Cry in the Thunder. She, who made the cruel monsters which killed her poor innocent colts and fillies. The Evil who once ruled the World.

She saw herself a monstrous alicorn of death, wearing sunlight for armor and unleashing reality shattering spells at the monster as it flew talons first at her. Eons ago, as the world ended, they fought and Celestia had won! She had killed that monster.

Hatred overflowed Celestia’s veins. She recognized The Predator from ancient memories in her dreams of past lives. It was her in the past cycle. It was her poisoning griffons in the past. And it was her polluting their minds with dreams of conquest and terror in Snow Mountains.

“You!” Celestia ragged as her face contorted into a furious grimace. She could barely control her shaking old legs. She screamed as much as her croaky voice would allow. “I killed you! I destroyed you; I ended you! How can you be here?”

The murderous monstrosity laughed again before she fixed her gray eyes on Celestia, walking forward. Her shoulders rose and fell with her elegant gait, like a lioness. Her black and white shaped a cruel smile and her sharp facial structure seemed accentuated under the dying red light of the sun.

“Answer me!” Celestia screamed her throat sore.

Finally, the griffoness fixed her cold eyes on Celestia’s again. Her voice took a solemn tone and she stood on her hindlegs, opening wings and forelegs in a grand gesture under the red sun. She spoke in an ancient language ingrained into Celestia’s mind and her voice carried an unsettling authority. “The Gateway of All opens, and time stops. Past and Future meet halfway in the Present… All that ever was and will be converge. The Great Annihilator prepares to, once again, return all to the first instant of Creation in its quest for Perfection.”

“Your kind was made to serve and in servitude finds comfort, but you stole it from them.” She tightly closed a fist she showed Celestia. “Creation yearns for strong reigns you cannot hold, and your poor student never stood a chance.”

The Harpy returned to her four legs and resumed walking toward Celestia, her wings still on display. The red of the dying sun tinted her in a sickly pink that unnerved Celestia almost as much as her gray eyes. Then she offered a paw to Celestia, some ten hooves of emerald-red wilting grass between them. “Thus, here I am! Once again, at the Beginning and the End of Creation, to take you home. Come… The others have already joined, and you have, once again, the opportunity to restore balance.”

The old alicorn gave her no response. Celestia simply turned her stare downward, closing her eyes at what her words implied. Without getting an answer, the griffoness moved closer and sat before Celestia.

The Harpy smiled as though she was talking to a filly. Infuriatingly, a caring, motherly smile while cruelty and hubris also pulled the edges of her beak. “Your precious little ponies… They passed all the tests. They were ready to sustain Harmony forever. What happened, Sol-Estia?”

She picked a wilted flower, holding it in her talons. “I thought you meant to make the world a perfect place. None of the pain I brought. Simply full of joy and cute things… Cute flowers. Cute little bunnies and fishies. Cute doggies and kittens to play with the little foals.”

“What happened?” She let the flower drop and tilted her head with a mocking, fake curiosity. The Harpy laughed. She guffawed so hard she bent over and hugged her stomach as her crown of feathers bent low against her neck before ruffling again. Ponies crowded near Celestia protectively. It broke her heart. “Things did not go as you had planned… And now, they have to witness your failure again.”

“It will keep repeating, every cycle because you cannot understand your method is flawed. You turned my beautiful world into a kindergarten of failed magical constructs who should never have been gifted free-will. You will fail and I will never not amuse myself seeing the stare in your face when you realize we have reached the end of another cycle and you failed yet again.”

Then she threw a golden crown at Celestia’s feet. It bounced once on the grass. The blood stains were as readily identifiable as the purple star and the triple mound design under the red gleam of the dying sun. Celestia wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of crying or even a reaction, even if her ponies cried at the sight.

“You never taught her how to fight, but she tried.” The Harpy’s beak retained her cruel smile. “She called your name in the end. Her suffering is rooted in your stubborn arrogance in refusing your place.”

Celestia’s ears remained pulled back and her tired eyes remained set on the griffoness. Finally, the mare spoke. “I will destroy you. Once and for all.”

“I do not think you will.” The griffoness scooted closer with a mocking smile. “You keep repeating the same mistake. I’ve become very good at ruining your little playground since the Fourth Cycle and you don’t even remember it.”

What? Celestia’s ears perked. Fourth Cycle? What madness was that? They were in the Fourth Cycle, and she had nothing to do with the other cycles failing. They did because Celestia’s little ponies failed to establish the ecosystem. In the Fourth Cycle they managed! The ponies survived the Windigos and Discord. Everything worked as it should, and it only failed because she did something to the griffons.

Celestia mumbled, surprised. Shocked. Her lips trembled and her ears pulled back again. At the back of her mind a small pony wept. She knew The Harpy was right, she just didn’t know why or how. Her tired legs almost couldn’t hold her anymore and her old heart squeezed in her chest. Her voice came with a broken whisper. “What are you talking about?”

At some level, Celestia remembered she witnessed the ‘past’ through the eyes of her past self. There was nothing she could do about it, but something hurt her deeply. Back aboard the airship, Luna had joked about how several cycles had failed because of Twilight’s rule. But it was a joke. A jest! Celestia… Both the elderly pony in the dream and the young one behind her eyes, held back tears stinging on her eyes. She swallowed a painful lump on her throat before the words came out broken. Deep inside, she already knew. “What cycle is this?”

“In the First Cycle your ponies didn’t even survive the first moments under the Primeval Chaos.” Her expression turned to mocking superiority and she punctuated her words shaking her head. “In the Second Cycle Luccenotturna gave them intelligence, but they died in accidents and not enough remained. In the Third Cycle Amore taught them how to reproduce, and you decided they shouldn’t be immortal, fearing they would overpopulate.”

She laughed like it was the punchline of a joke and her words stumbled through her chuckles. “They became so selfish and petty because of their limited life they failed the Harmonic Resonance Test and the Windigos destroyed them.”

“You think this is the Fourth Cycle. When Amicizia gave them the Magic of Friendship, they survived not only the Windigos, but also Discord.” The Harpy again showed a compassionate smile. “You finally made it!”

“They were ready to sustain Harmony forever. With all the stupid nonsense you and your creation did… The Elements of Harmony even returned Luna to you. Everything worked so well…” The Harpy let her voice trail off, smiling and caressing Celestia’s cheek with the back of her paw.

Bubbly chuckles escaped the great griffoness under the red sunlight and her smile broadened. “You unsophisticated nag. You didn’t even understand what you were until the Black Sun began to form and memories returned to you. You completely forgot godhood. You could not explain your own origin. You just walked into Star Swirl and decided to accept becoming a pretty princess with your sister. It’s like a story for infants. It’s a fairy tale!”

The griffoness concluded, half compassionate, half cruel. “You keep making the same mistake, without fail. This is not the Fourth Cycle, and I have been ruining your little kindergarten in my stolen world ever since. You just stopped remembering because the goddesses integrated into their minds. It makes you forget, and you cannot fight me.”

“What cycle is this?!” Celestia cried. Her voice broke and she yelled. Louder than she wanted. Anger and frustration took control from her, and she hiccupped a sob.

“Oh… You poor animal.” The Harpy’s black paw touched Celestia’s cheek and caressed it as softly as the compassionate expression she donned. Sad gray eyes stared at Celestia’s big magenta ones, maybe legitimately so. “This is the Fifteenth Cycle.”

A gasp escaped Celestia, and her light head almost toppled her. She sat on her haunches and the world spun around her. Her empty stomach threatened to spill anything it could find. Ponies crowded around her again with concerned stares despite their confusion. She could barely see them through the tears.

She grimaced as breathing became harder and her hooves held her face. Her tears slipped and her sobbing stole the air from her. She whined and shut her eyes as hard as she could. Trapped like a rat. No way out other than through an enemy she just saw she couldn’t defeat. But her little ponies… They didn’t deserve it. They deserved to live free and happy. So what if it was a fairy tale? So what if it was foolish? But they cried for her help, and she failed.

“You wept. Every time, you cried.” The Harpy softened her voice. “So angry. So despaired. Just as you are now. Stuck in a corner you cannot escape from.”

“You are not fit.” Celestia felt her paw, caressing her dried mane. The monster’s voice so soft. “Give me back my world. I will bear this burden; it is too much for you.”

“And yet, you will not.” The Harpy’s voice grew cruel again, and Celestia looked up from her old hooves to see the malicious smile pulling at her beak. A talon danced around Celestia’s temple. “You cannot accept… You will insist. You cannot do different. You are a reflection of their fear, a base instinct devoid of real intelligence. You do not even possess true free-will…. You will fail however many times you try because you cannot defeat me. And so will your precious little magical constructs. Until all the pieces fall in place and I can finally destroy you and take back my world. One day, I will truly set you free. Until then, you will suffer. And I will enjoy watching it, my unrepentant prodigal daughter.”

Celestia’s breath came in rapid bursts, and her sobs caught in her throat. Her words confused themselves with her breathless weeping. “You are a petty monster who wants to cause suffering simply for the fact Harmony gave me Creation! I will kill you again! I will destroy you! Once and for all! Somehow!”

“Yes… The same righteous fury. Every time.” The Harpy chuckled, stroking Celestia’s mane. “ ‘You monster’… ‘You are evil’… All words you invented for me… For things that scare you. You are weak. You are flawed, you are out of your place. Moving the sun was all you were meant to do.”

Her smile turned dark. “Now… My patience has thinned over the millennia of repeating this. Let us end it and try again. The Black Sun waits for your soul.”

Her black paws reached for Celestia’s neck. The alicorn remained silent, barely letting a hiccup escape. Resolute. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she remained solid as stone. Ponies pulled back, scared, and confused, yet she remained still. Black fingers closed around her neck and squeezed the air from her.

Celestia’s weak legs soon gave in and the griffoness pushed her weight over the diminished alicorn. Ponies cried around them, but her eyes remained on the griffoness’ manic grin as she laid on top of her.

As the Sun completed its transformation into the Black Sun all light vanished as an omen of the undefinable, reality shattering sound that filled her ears. A rushing rumble remained as the ground shook and broke. Individual pieces broke as reality fell apart. Horrified ponies walking backwards mercifully collapsed, as though a switch had been flipped and undid their consciousness. Then their bodies undid themselves in sparkly showers of magical energy let loose, washing away, toward the sky. Twinkling as little stars rising from everywhere.

Celestia’s eyes found the Black Sun above The Harpy’s crown of excitedly ruffling feathers. The gaping nothingness in the black void of the broken sky. Barely visible, all the light came from its crown of radiant energy. Everything spiraled into the Seed of Creation. All sound vanished in a cacophony of unnatural silence punctuated by its ghostly rumble and Celestia’s laborious, failing breath.

It waited only for her death, so they could start anew.

The Harpy whispered to her, letting her beak come closer, almost gasping as a lover while existence shattered around them. “Next time, kindly give me back my world, Grassbreath. I tire of this game.”

The powerful fingers crushed her windpipe and her lungs burned, but the pain didn’t bother Celestia. Something numbed the pain and the sorrow. Maybe her oxygen starved brain began to shut off. Maybe the revelation she fought a hopeless war made it all pointless. Maybe the Black Sun and its weird effect on her, the convergence of all versions of her through its bizarre time magic, gave her a sliver of hope.

Maybe she really had some bizarre sense of filial submission to The Harpy. No way her head was very healthy with such a messed-up business of remembering, forgetting, cycles and death and rebirth… Luna and the others probably weren’t very well either. The Harpy was likely the nuttiest of them all. Maybe the absurdity made it all tragically funny.

On the verge of slipping out of consciousness, she gave The Harpy a weak smile, barely pulling at her cheeks wet with tears.

One thing she knew for sure. It was a dream. A memory made it through to the next cycle. One she would remember when she woke up, with plenty of time before the end was already upon her. Finally, she had the upper hoof, and was about to unleash twelve lifetime's worth of whoop-flank upon the world.

“Gotcha, Hairball…”

Comments

[new55]

That was a good chapter.

[Metemponychosis]

11394078
I'm really glad you liked it. This chapter gave me a lot of grief until I was satisfied I had out right.

[DocFlareon]

I'm worried for Gwendolen/Harpy's health when Celestia wakes up.

[Metemponychosis]

11402862
Things are not going to be pretty.

[Jinnchin]

Harpy (14th Cycle): “Next time, kindly give me back my world, Grassbreath. I tire of this game.”
Celestia (Current Cycle): "IF HARMONY HAD WANTED YOU TO RULE IT WOULD NOT HAVE CREATED ME!"

Really enjoy the way magic and spells are described in this story. Very technical, but also very visceral!

So The Harpy... yikes! I was willing to give her the benefit of a doubt and assume she wasn't triggering the Black Sun on purpose. But now we know that not only was this the case (for some cycles at least) but it was done purely out of ego and spite. This chapter has really cemented her as the big villain of this AU!

On a semi related note, I can only assume the event that triggered the Black Sun in the 14th cycles was the Harpy killing an ascended Twilight. Likewise in that flashback to the early, primal cycle, it appears the death of The Harpy was what triggered the Black Sun that time. Once again, Harmony REALLY doesn't seem to like it when a god-like being dies. But why? I find myself wondering if an over-arching "goal" of Harmony is to create a world where both the Harpy and the other "gods" of the setting find a way to coexist...

...which is a problem because The Harpy really isn't big on sharing!

[Metemponychosis]

11838984
Flawless logic.

What triggers the Black Sun is the amount of magic in the Pool of Souls (aka Sun). If too many creatures die beyond a threshold, the Black Sun is triggered. If a god-like being, filled with magic, dies, it will trigger the Black Sun. That was Discord's plan in the past, cause enough creatures to die to trigger the Black Sun and start all over.