Salvation

by voroshilov

Throne World

Fear.

Fear was the only word usable to describe Penumbra’s feelings upon exiting the Rift. Fear was an emotion that had its basis in survival, if you were afraid, then you avoided danger and you survived. Penumbra, however, could not afford to avoid her fear, she would have to delve into its depths and find Ablazed Glory.

When she exited the Rift, she beheld a wound into real space, a deep gash into another realm that leaked out. It was a pure formation of deep anger and hatred for all reality - nihilism made solid. From the viewscreen of the Retaliator, Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra beheld the vast, material coalescence of one man’s hatred for life.

It was the Throne World.

The Retaliator was hundreds kilometres from it, looking out over the crashed hulk of an Imperial cruiser, which was miniscule in comparison to the beige stone gate that towered over both it and the Retaliator itself, extending for hundreds, if not thousands of kilometres in all directions. The cylindrical towers that flanked it, topped with a crown of spines, extended even higher, once bearing thousands of the Emperor’s murderous warriors.

Indeed, a vast wall surrounded the Throne World proper, towers all along its length, though it cut off thousands of kilometres in either direction. This was likely just a portion of the true Throne World, which had somehow burst into the real world.

Compared to the last time she had witnessed it, however, it burned with a much dimmer fire of evil. It seemed almost diluted, washed-out, like it had decayed. Nevertheless, there was still a deep-rooted evil within its depths, though its depths were impossibly far. No doubt, if she explored enough - and had far greater mental and physical fortitude than she did - she could find Nicholas’ throne. Though, even the thought of that sent shivers along her spine.

“The IESS Valiance of the Meek is showing catastrophic damage. I am detecting heavy plasma leakage around the crash site. Attempting to locate a safe landing zone.”

Every second the Retaliator drew closer to the Throne World proper, Penumbra felt herself pushing back into her chair. She couldn’t describe the feelings it gave, beyond that it was somehow wrong, like the universe and every survival instinct imaginable was telling her to stay away. Evidently, something had drawn Ablazed Glory here. Penumbra could say, honestly, that she did not want to meet whatever it could be. Her brain naturally indulged in a moment of thinking about all of the horrors that could have baited her in, before she snapped away from the line of thought with an audible snarl.

“Landing site identified. Advise caution.”

The site was an area about two kilometres from the wrecked bow of the cruiser, which Penumbra could see plasma slowly oozing out of. Sparks lit up deep - otherwise black - gashes through the hull, some going through multiple decks. She had once seen the cruisers as huge, nigh-indestructible, agents of a will far beyond what she could ever hope to muster. Now, she looked upon its pitiful wreck, serving as little better than a reminder that even the mightiest of empires would fall.

With the Retaliator’s silent landing, Penumbra was forced to rise. Even as her mind screamed at her to sit back down and fly off, pleading that no one would know, she willed her body to advance. The Retaliator’s ramp seemed a world away, Penumbra’s every step weighing on her as half of her tried desperately to leave.

Even with her immense mental fortitude - which she would normally pride herself on - it took her minutes to reach and then descend the ramp. Granted, it got easier with every step, the side of her demanding she push on slowly winning out, but that did not mean it was any less difficult. When she touched the floor: hard, brown stone, she twitched at its frigidity. She allowed herself a deep, calming breath of stagnant yet breathable air - she could only assume some slowly dying magical phenomena was keeping the air in place - before looking up and taking in her surroundings.

Behind her, through the silhouette of the Retaliator, sat the corpse of the cruiser, its boiling blood pooled around it. Its previously purple hull had been scorched grey, with the tears in its hull giving glimpses deep into its destroyed mechanisms - Penumbra’s enhanced eyes cutting through some of the darkness. Ablazed Glory had been right when she said it would fly no longer. She doubted it could even be entered.

A shadow loomed over her, the shadow of the Throne World. Its walls were higher than she could see, with the top of its gate only visible because it was marked with a complex and painful rune circle, which glowed bright green. What little Penumbra knew about such magic told her it wasn’t a trap, rather it didn’t appear to do much at all. It was likely that once it had been a detection spell of some kind, marking out any intruders to the guards. Now, it lay dormant, its trigger gone but the energy it had been imbued with remaining, stagnant.

As she walked towards the entrance, a task far more exterting than it sounded given the sheer distance, she got the feeling of eyes looking upon her. Not the usual two, but three. The feeling left almost as soon as it had arrived, no doubt a momentary paranoia - the part of her that wished to leave playing its last card before finally resigning. She could only hope the distances would become smaller as she went in.

Sure enough, they quickly did. Just beyond the gateway was a three forking path. Aside from the two paths made for titans, leading left and right, there was a smaller path through the centre, with a door leading into a more enclosed building. She closed on it fast, not wishing to stay in the lane of giants for any longer than was necessary. Though the Throne World may have been empty - emphasis there on the ‘may’ - there was still that natural sense of unease that came around such immense areas.

The door was unlocked, little more than a push affair. It was slightly open, no doubt Ablazed Glory had chosen that path. Penumbra allowed herself a little smile, she was certainly on the right track.

The room she entered was a stairwell, winding up a good distance. Penumbra took the staircase slowly, not willing to entrust herself in such thin steps. She reached the top around ten minutes after starting on it. She could have sworn she hadn’t gone quite that slowly.

When the staircase opened out, not only onto flat ground but into a hall, it made the wait all the more worth it. She was on flat ground again, able to plant all four of her feet onto the same surface and not have to contend with gravity for her life. She was also in what appeared to be a museum, the curiosity and desire for knowledge within her exploding with joy. Artefacts in cabinets lined the two walls, each with plaques detailing them. There was everything, from an ancient, badly rusted, iron helmet taken from somewhere called “Sol,” to a suspended sphere of what seemed to be blood, marked as “Luysifer’s soul.”

Emperor Nicholas had been a collector, a seeker of things, storing all of his many trophies within his Throne World. As Penumbra crossed the hall - which must have contained only the tiniest fraction of his extensive collection - she remarked upon each object, basking in their history.

One case held a few shards of silvery metal, clearly shattered from a larger object, suspended by some invisible energy that allowed Penumbra a better look at them. She looked across them, seeing the clear point where each had been broken off from the whole, before checking the plaque.

“Godsplitter.”

Emperor Nicholas’ first sword. The sword which had killed the king of the Rift.

The story that those few shards of metal held was enough for lifetimes.

Penumbra was proud to say she regarded artefacts with a fervour unmatched by anything else. She wanted to study them, to learn their secrets and their stories. In the past, she could only have wished for a museum such as the one held by the Throne World - it alone almost made the whole journey worth it, though she still couldn’t say she would be returning any time soon.

It was with a great sadness that she left the hall. Passing through the next door, she entered into a whole new hall. Complete with even more artefacts, though these were all in the form of books or documents.

Penumbra was in heaven.

What parts of her had begged her to run were silenced for good in an instant upon laying eyes on the first leather bound text. With a giddy laugh, she dashed up to it, carefully using her telekinesis to look through its pages.

“The Watch on Praetorius,” the plaque read. It was a fiction book, apparently, written millennia ago. She carefully flicked through to its end - eternally glad for the impossibly delicate touch of telekinesis.

“A gift, from your most humble servant, to you, Emperor Eternal.” A handwritten message, apparently by the author, was on the final, otherwise blank, page. Emperor Nicholas had kept it for who knew how long, secure and preserved in his personal museum.

Penumbra knew she didn’t have the time to read all of the books, but that did not mean she wasn’t going to try. She dashed back and forth between the pedestals, checking the tomes for anything incredibly interesting - something she could easily justify sinking time into.

There was fiction; such as “Scarlet”, “The Turning of the World,” and “Fatalism.” Then there was non-fiction, such as “The Triumph of Perseus”, “The Imperial Shield,” and “Shadow of Sundered Star.” Each one had Penumbra yearning to read it, to sink herself deep within it and not come out until she was fully satisfied. But, each time, she was reminded of Ablazed Glory, somewhere further within. She would have to keep moving.

She allowed herself to stop before the final pedestal. Unlike the previous, it had no counterpart on the opposite wall. It was a large, thin layer of glass, seventeen sheets of paper pressed beneath them. She could still read what it said, but was unable to touch it if she had wanted to.

“Properties of Baryonic matter in the Rift,” she read aloud from the plaque. It was a scientific essay, apparently. The previous texts had been millennia old, all about some story - no doubt that Nicholas himself enjoyed, or had enjoyed in the very distant past - or a historical event or group that no doubt he was part of. This text stood out, not least in that it didn’t appear even half as old as the others.

She got close to it, reading carefully from the start, looking for just why it was so special. It was within the first three lines that she found it: “Properties of Baryonic matter in the Rift, a study of homogeneity between baryons and other hadrons. By Nicholas Thomson.”

Nicholas Thomson, Penumbra thought, so that was your real name.

Could it have been from his childhood? Had he had a childhood? What would childhood for an immortal, time-controlling, avatar of darkness be like? Or did the very nature of time-control preclude towards a permanent adulthood? The time before he was Emperor Nicholas - that was when that scientific paper was written - the time before the Empire no doubt, it all seemed almost impossible to her, beyond merely lost.

If he still lived, she might have been able to ask him. But, she was only learning of this because of his demise. He was finally, well and truly, beyond reach - she still didn’t quite know how to feel about that, even a century later.

The essay, short as it was, inconsequential as it probably was at the time, was like the last strand of a spider’s web, linking her present to his past. Of course he had had it pressed as it was, it was probably the last strand linking him to who he was before. She could see him looking at it, longing for a future never to be - a path not chosen. That time, that person he was, was just like the essay itself, visible, but not touchable, stuck behind a pane of glass - another branch of many.

She let it go, crossing the next threshold. In a form of solemn reverence, she closed the door quietly behind her. His ghost - as metaphorical as it was - should be allowed to rest.

That was why the Throne World was anathema to her, not because of a past trauma, but because it should be allowed to rest peacefully. Neither she nor Ablazed Glory should ever have disturbed it. It may not have borne his body, but it bore enough of his spirit to be considered his tomb - one that should have been left sealed.

Everything around her was lifeless, greyed and far from reach, stagnant, eternal. As she walked, she wondered how long it would take entropy to consume the place, if it even could at all. What could thermodynamics do, she supposed, to a man who took the concept of time as a personal challenge?

She didn’t know exactly how she knew where Ablazed Glory was. In truth, she wasn’t entirely sure. Taking the path directly ahead of her had worked so far, something told her it would continue to work until she found her quarry. For its size, the Throne World was not a maze, not by any means. At most there would be three paths, two usually reserved for creatures far, far exceeding her size. The smallest would lead along bridges, kilometres from the floor, tall enough for the giants who had once walked through the corridors to her flanks to pass beneath without so much as ducking.

The only light the Throne World had came from its rooms - those Penumbra’s size, anyway. She assumed there must have once been a light source for everywhere, back when it was contained nicely within its own realm. But, knowing Nicholas, she couldn’t be so sure. Fortunately for her, the light seemed to lead in the right direction, making the task of finding Ablazed Glory more a test of her patience and leg muscles than anything else.

Thankful was not a word strong enough for Penumbra’s feelings regarding her immense energy reserves. Without them, she would have probably been forced to at least rest some time ago. More than probably, she would have had to abandon the expedition all together, especially upon seeing the immense sizes of some of the rooms she was expected to pass through. The smallest rooms would be hundreds of metres long, the largest would be kilometres. Some of the rooms were so large they curved away.

The largest hall she entered was lined with statues, each reaching almost to the roof. Both they and the room they inhabited were lit, Penumbra’s eyes straining for a moment as they readjusted. Each statue was unique, though with Penumbra’s small size she couldn’t exactly tell who they were supposed to represent. One was of a Tomb Guard, though his armour seemed to be more ornate, and far larger, with the crown on his head bearing two large horns atop it and an eight-pointed star around its rim. One was vaguely in a Tomb Guard’s shape, though it was thinner, more skeletal, with eight horns on its crown - she recognised it, or she thought she did, at least, as Kyhron, who had sacrificed himself during the final battle of the War in Heaven, which all seemed like lifetimes ago.

Another five were robed, at least, she assumed they were, with three having large, three pointed crown helmets similar to the regular Tomb Guards, the other two having two horizontal arms to their helmets, with a pair of long, tapering embellishments twice the length of the rest of the helmet leading up from the centre rim.

She could only definitely identify one of the statues, which stood at the far centre of the room, like the king at the head of the table. Emperor Nicholas’ statue was different to how he had looked when she had known him, but it was still certainly him. He did not bear his distinctive crown, but a smaller version of a Tomb Guard’s helmet, nor did he hold Oathbreaker. Rather, he held both of his arms out, elbows bent at ninety degrees, palms out and facing upwards. There was a kinder aura about that depiction of him, more like a person, Penumbra thought. Or, maybe that was only because he was a picture made of stone.

Beyond herself and Ablazed Glory - who she knew must have come through - the room had been empty and unused for a long time, longer than just the length of Emperor Nicholas’ fall. There was no dust on the floor, such appeared to be the nature of the Throne World, but there was a feeling of emptiness. The hall must have served some purpose, at one point, but that purpose had been removed elsewhere or entirely tens of millennia ago.

How she knew what she did, Penumbra had no concrete idea. She chalked it down to simply good detective work. She was, after all, a master of observation - such had allowed her to learn what magic she knew, though none of it served any use in the Throne World.

The Throne World, once the seat of power of Emperor Nicholas, The Everlasting, who had with but an order condemned Penumbra’s homeworld to destruction and most of her species to death in fire and the icy black of space. She observed it as one would a derelict house, there was so much history and majesty and power that had once been present in its walls, but that was all consigned to a distant time. The reign of Nicholas was but a memory, even if its consequences lived on in her. How many others had seen this place? She thought to herself as she walked through it, taking care to observe what lay around her. How many others could say they had been to - or even knew about - where she stood? Aside from Ablazed Glory, likely none.

Yet, she didn’t feel special; more unfortunate. There was little to brag about, aside from maybe surviving, though even survival was pretty much assured within the Throne World given it was empty. She could probably have told Rainbow a half-lie and boasted about how she descended into such an evil place and escaped unscathed. Unless Applejack detected her withholding information and forced it out of her. But, they weren’t around anymore. There was no one to tell.

No one to hear Penumbra’s stories.

She trudged on, forcing herself past the statue of Emperor Nicholas and through the large but not titanic door to his left. The door had been opened slightly, a detail Penumbra had noticed the moment she entered the room. Rather than by the rays of light pouring from it, she had seen it by the rays of light drowning in its darkness.

The room she entered was dark. Not the darkness she had encountered earlier - which was more an absence of many lights - but utter, pitch darkness. Even the intense glow of the hall behind her seemed unable to penetrate beyond the threshold of the door. The room itself was little more than a vestibule, though she was certain something lay in the room beyond its door, which was closed. She reached out to it with her magic, finding interference permeating the room, bleeding from beyond the door.

The door had been closed recently, with faint magical embers hanging off of it. She had seen these nowhere else in the Throne World, but the room had a trail of them, leading from the entrance door, to the exit. They were a tell-tale sign of Ablazed Glory’s presence, but also of something else. She had reached a precipice of some kind, some point that, when crossed, would set her on a path she could not turn back from.

Or so her paranoia told her.

She reached out for the door with her foreleg, feeling its freezing cold surface. The rest of the Throne World had been pleasantly cool, not enough either way to make her feel uncomfortable. The room she was in was slightly cooler, though barely, enough for Penumbra to pick up on when she tried to. Yet, the room beyond seemed to be far colder, like a land with no sun. The Throne World didn’t have a sun, she supposed, so perhaps that wasn’t that far off.

The door was closed by an unreasonably complex mechanism. Penumbra could easily bypass it, she knew full well she could, but the fact it existed in the first place was perplexing. It wasn’t a lock, not by any means, but was almost certainly strong enough to resist any attack Penumbra could throw at it. Yet, it could be avoided simply by pulling the doorknob towards herself, the mechanism thus being rendered useless.

She stepped out of the room and into an open area. Immediately, her panicked part took over and tried to force her back, but the door was firmly closed behind her, no amount of frantic pushing could go through it.

Far in the distance, filling the sky, were stars. Not stars as she would usually consider them, though. They were small - for a star - having a sickly green hue, providing cold rather than warmth. Darkness hung around them, flowing like a fluid - repulsed by massive caged lanterns spewing out pale yellow light. Below her, down a staircase of black stone, was a platform, edged by an abyss that flowed like an ocean, with a thin bridge leading across to a circular fortress, embossed with spikes and adjacent cylindrical towers of varying heights. Beyond the bridge was a gate, slightly ajar, with a giant green rune burning above it. She had deciphered where she was the moment she had borne witness to it all.

Before her lay the Keep of Souls, though the fortress she saw was barely a fraction of its total size, little more than a miniscule watchtower on its outermost layer - it was still enough to give her chills. She was in the Throne World proper, the door behind her acting as the border between the material realm and the one Nicholas had created. Where Emperor Nicholas’ throne lay was shrouded by darkness, of which there was enough that it concentrated, coalesced into clouds. The power that had made her, the power that had made Nicholas, hung in the very air like a mist.

She was somewhere no living creature was supposed to be, making locating Ablazed Glory and taking her leave all the more pressing concern. Her calm mind wrested control from the paranoia, once again relegating it to the background. With a deep breath, she pushed forwards, descending down the staircase to the bridge platform.

The bridge was flanked by two tapered circular totems, with identical equivalents on the other side - who seemed to have once had a use, though, of what it was, Penumbra was unsure. The actual bridge itself was about three metres wide, with no supports beyond a slight thickening at the very ends, where it connected to the cylindrical platforms that seemed to extend down forever, swallowed by the abyss below.

She gulped before taking a step onto it, before quickly leaping back behind one of the totems. She wanted to find Ablazed Glory, absolutely she did, but there was no chance in hell she would cross that bridge. There had to be another way.

Her magic was being interfered with, interdicted by something. A teleport was far too risky, even if she could pull one off with the sheer weight of magical static around her. Her magical sight was also useless, giving her little better than what appeared to be a blizzard of black and white that made her nauseous. She wouldn’t use her wings for the same reason she wouldn’t use the thin and most definitely slippery bridge. That only left the presence of a teleporter, or other such item, that would allow her to cross the kilometre and a half long gap nicely.

At first, she tried the totems. It took little more than a touch of her claw to know that they had definitely been used for something in the past. Compared to the air and floor around her, they were hot, really quite incredibly so. Even without her magical sight, she knew there was energy within them, though she did not know how to access it. It was unlikely they had a button she could press, or a lever she could pull, Emperor Nicholas’ esoteric style of architecture always left a lot to be desired in terms of practicality - there was probably a spike three miles away that if she kicked half-way up something would happen. Though, he was probably capable of crossing the gap with teleportation, knowing him, so practicality wasn’t an issue.

“He would also probably just cross the bridge,” she mumbled, before reprimanding herself within her head, even though she agreed with every word of it.

She took a longing look over to the other platform, seeing if she could muster the willpower to simply dash across. She got tunnel vision doing so, perhaps it was just the distance, or the fact the world around her was wreathed in the darkness, an energy she knew from experience she didn’t want to fall into. Perhaps, she thought, if she closed her eyes and ran? Though, that was practically begging herself to fall off, tumble into the abyss and have who knows what done to her.

She lined herself up, lunging forwards repeatedly but never quite having the drive to follow up. The start was the hardest part, that she knew, but that didn’t make it any less difficult. Even if she would simply appear at the other side in thirty steps, she still wouldn’t have been fully able to convince herself it was the best option.

As it stood, her only other option would be to fly, though that carried with it an even greater worry. She may have been an expert in flying, but she considered herself an expert in walking, that didn’t make it any easier to do in her case.

“Just run,” she said, psyching herself up to go, “just run. Just run forwards, don’t look back or down. Just run, you’ll be there in no time. Got to find Ablazed Glory. Find her, then leave. Find her, then this whole little house of horrors will be behind you. Just run.”

She lunged again, further this time, but with still not enough mental momentum to hammer it home. She did it again, and again, each time progressing slightly further, but without the fortitude to back it up and drive her forwards.

“Just run,” she repeated, angry at herself, “just run across the fucking bridge.”

With a final, furious shout, she lunged, throwing herself so far she just had to run to keep her balance. Roaring, she charged forwards, horn pointed forwards like a battering ram, eyes open enough for her to see the bridge at her feet and nothing else. Her roar did not echo, and she did not stop until she was at the other side. Only realising she was when she stumbled on a step and fell, face first, into a runic circle.

Fortunately for her face and the rest of the front half of her body, it was offline. It had been carved into the rock of the floor, bearing a few symbols she could identify. It was a trap, or, at least, it had been. She was fairly certain Ablazed Glory hadn’t triggered it, the lack of a nearby corpse suggested so. What she did see of her quarry, however, was a trail of embers, glowing faintly in the dark, leading up into the fortress.

There had once been a garrison, emphasised in part by the obvious battlements that flanked the gate. Directly above her was an enclosed balcony, the perfect spot for a sniper, with her two sides watched over by openings in the towers, where once Tomb Guard would have stood sentry. At the top of the gate’s staircase was a large, flat opening, with two partially enclosed divots in the walls where hidden guards would have waited in ambush. To top off the defences, the doors bore three runic locks, once nigh-unbreakable with anything save immense magical power.

Now, though, everything was either empty or dormant. The locks had deactivated on their own, with the doors able to be pushed open by little more than a tap - able to glide effortlessly along the smooth black stone of the floor. Beyond them was an hourglass shaped stone and metal container, stitch like orange lights ringing the two widest points. Once, something had been sleeping within, though whatever it was had either died or been released.

The circular container room had two exits, both leading to the same place. The fortress had been designed around circles and rings, for whatever reason. Penumbra liked to chalk it down to aesthetics, believing Nicholas had put thought into crafting his constructions in a way that looked nice - at least to him. Although, it was probably for some defensive purpose.

The next room had an interesting feature, one Penumbra had not expected in the slightest: a giant shaft, leading so far down that the bottom was obscured by darkness. A chain, about a metre thick, connected to something beyond the ceiling by a hole, led down into it, disappearing eventually. There was also, surely, a reason for that, though at that point Penumbra didn’t care.

There was a door, flung wide open, behind the chain and shaft. Penumbra carefully made her way around, somewhat fearful of something sudden happening, which may have jumped her near the hole. Fortunately for her heart, nothing did and she crossed rather anticlimactically but no worse for wear through into the next room, which contained noticeably less pits of death.

It was a semi-circular room, connected openly to a large, vaguely rounded platform. The platform was open to the air and flanked by towers, with a shallow ramp leading somewhere below Penumbra’s feet as she entered. About a hundred metres beyond the platform, probably close enough for Penumbra to fly to, hung a black stone sphere, shattered in various places and glowing a sickly green within, like the colour of the scattered stars in the faux-sky around her.

What allowed her to see through was not glass, it was a faint green and it seemed to flow through itself like a fluid, though it retained its overall shape like a solid. Tapping on it, Penumbra was met with silence, with the material feeling solid like a thick layer of steel. She slowly ringed around, following the strange material closely, until she passed beyond the room and into the outside. The floor she had been on continued at the same thickness, meeting up with its opposite fellow in the centre of the platform and leading down in a short staircase to a wider area, which again led down by a ramp.

The place looked as though it had once been an arena, though it had more than likely been used for some other, enigmatic purpose. The shattered orb cast a baleful glow over the platform, giving Penumbra slightly more to see, but tinting it all green. That would have been if there was anything to see, however, which there wasn’t.

When she reached the centre, just below the orb, she regarded the area below the structure she had just been in. She practically squealed with joy when she saw the faint, fiery glow that came from its depths. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind, that was Ablazed Glory.

She leapt down the staircase, then dashed through the arena-like area and down the ramp. All the while a giddy smile was etched onto her face, she could hardly believe her luck. She would finally be able to leave soon.

The burning alicorn was sat on her haunches, a black, metallic object, covered in pulsing green veins, clutched tightly in her talons. She didn’t notice Penumbra’s approach until the larger alicorn cast a shadow over her, a smile beaming on her face and talons happily tapping up and down.

“I’ve finally found you!” Penumbra shouted triumphantly, “how’ve you been? We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Ablazed Glory stared at her, as if slowly beginning to recognise her. “Penumbra?” She chanced, her voice betraying she wasn’t quite sure, “you’re here?”

Penumbra threw out her talons emphatically. “Yes I am! Here to help you get out of here.”

Ablazed Glory squinted. “It's been years,” she mumbled, punctuating with a chuckle, “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

Years. She’d been down there for years.

Penumbra opened her mouth to speak, but no sound left her throat. She shifted awkwardly on the spot, trying to think of something that could be used as comfort, either for Ablazed Glory or for herself, though found nothing.

Ablazed Glory rose and took a tentative step forwards, holding the metal shape to her breast with a telekinetic aura. “It’s good to see you again,” she said, smiling, “good to see anyone, honestly. You have a ship?”

Penumbra could only bring herself to nod glumly, though Ablazed Glory seemed to be more than happy with the arrangement.

“Finally.” She laughed heartily. “Was almost beginning to think I was never going to get off this rock.”

She passed Penumbra, heading up the ramp behind her. Penumbra, meanwhile, stared at where she had been, an expression that could be confused for her brain having gone out to fish etched onto her face. The alicorn almost cried, or, rather, she could have shed a tear - had her tear ducts not been fused shut millennia ago. She made a noise not too dissimilar to a sob, though far quieter, before shaking her head and breathing in deeply to clear her mind.

“Hey,” Ablazed Glory yelled from the top of the staircase behind her, “are you coming or what?”

Penumbra snapped around, nodding and running after her. Thanks to her freakishly long legs, she reached Ablazed Glory in only a few seconds, waiting on the staircase by her new companion. The two looked at each other for a moment, Ablazed Glory acting as though she was expecting Penumbra to do something. Thankfully, the burning alicorn broke the silence quickly.

“Well?” She gestured around. “You gonna take me to the ship? Or are we gonna stand on this staircase for the rest of time?”

“Oh,” Penumbra said, nodding profusely and darting her head back and forth. “Yes, yes,” she was talking more to herself than Ablazed Glory, “follow me, follow me.” She waddled up the staircase and began the walk back through the fortress, checking over her shoulder every few seconds to ensure Ablazed Glory was still following her.

“Anyway,” Ablazed Glory called forwards to her, Penumbra gradually sine-waving between fast and slow walking paces. At that moment, she was fast. “How’ve you been? How’s life been treating you this past four millennia. That’s about how long it’s been, right?”

Penumbra slowed down again. “It’s been.” She paused, not really quite sure how to quantify how it had been in a single sentence. She settled for her usual tactic of saying more than just a single sentence.

“It’s been?” Ablazed Glory prompted, narrowly avoiding bumping into the now static Penumbra.

Penumbra released a breath. “It’s been slow,” she said, “very slow. Up until a few days ago, when it became very, very fast. I’ve been to five different planets in the space of about three days, not including here of course.”

“I went to New Horizons,” she continued, “went to the place where ponies were saved. Where ponies were protected from the extinction that was forced onto us. For just one night, all the nightmares I’d had about my friends stopped. I know they’ll probably repeat again in the future, next time I dream. But, for the smallest moment, I was Twilight Sparkle again, I was that little filly who had laughed happily and watched in awe as Princess Celestia raised the sun. I was home again; but I knew it wasn’t home, I knew it never would be and I knew that I would have to leave it all again. When I was younger I’d wanted to explore the stars. Then, I grew up and knew that they were out of my reach. As I grew older I learned that, although the stars were too far, the moon wasn’t. Then, I grew older again, I learned that the stars weren’t out of reach, but to visit them I would have to get rid of what weighed me down.”

“And what was that?” Ablazed Glory asked.

“Me.”

That was the simple answer. Penumbra gave a sharp chuckle, planting herself onto her haunches. “My biggest weakness was always myself. What made Emperor Nicholas so strong was that he had control, he wasn’t a person, he was a construct, constantly evolving to meet a set of criteria. He was like an enchantment, a formula, longer and more complex than anything I can even imagine, but he was just mathematics. I learned this in my time alone. For years I’d wanted to be like him, wanted to have the power to save my friends and bring Equestria back, just as it was before. But.” She paused, taking a deep breath.

“In order for it to work,” she continued, voice lowered and slow, “I’d have to cast away me. I tried it, believe me, I did, but I’m not strong enough.”

“But,” Ablazed Glory said, confusion in her voice, “you did visit the stars? And, you’re still you.”

Penumbra laughed, not at her, but at the idea that what she said could be true. “No,” she said, shaking her head, “no. I’m not Twilight Sparkle anymore. I’m Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, a rigid set of traits and thoughts. I’m not Nicholas, he evolved and changed on a whim, he was cruelty, but then he was kindness. He could pour molten metal onto your legs whilst you cried in pain.” She held out her forelegs, splotches of silvery metal set into her flesh. “Then go out of his way to have your friend healed from her injuries, made better and stronger than before.”

She choked on a sob and looked down staring at the wickedly sharp edges of her talons. She shook her head as the talons of her forelegs flexed. “I hated him,” she mumbled, “I hated him,” she repeated, far louder, “I wanted to rip him apart, to kill him and bring my friends back and never have to join that war of his.” She sighed, her talons relaxing, releasing the immense tension she had put on them.

“And yet.” She chuckled harshly. “Given the option, the power to do so; I wouldn’t have been able to. He’d made me believe I’d killed him, once. In reality, though, he’d killed himself, pushed me to see what I would be capable of. I’d had to surrender all parts of myself in order to so much as swing at him once.” She closed her eyes.

“In that moment, who I am now was born. The set of individual criterions I am now replaced Twilight Sparkle the second my sword hit his armour. I’d watched and felt my friends die, so Emperor Nicholas had granted me the peace I needed, he’d allowed Twilight Sparkle, the pony, to die and be replaced by Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, the instrument. In his cruelty, he was kinder than anyone had been to me before.”

She fell silent, preferring the blank world she was viewing with her closed eyes. She twitched slightly when she felt something hot up against her, but relaxed when a wing - burning as it was - was draped over her.

“It’s alright,” Ablazed Glory mumbled, with all the similarities to Fluttershy. “Just let it out.”

“I didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye to most of them,” Penumbra blubbered beneath her claws, before pulling herself from them and opening her eyes wide.

“I didn’t need to,” she continued, shrugging, a blank expression across her face, “what difference would it have made? All of history converged on that moment we killed the Great Light. Maybe I was fated to be the only one to survive, or, maybe, I was just lucky.”

Ablazed Glory stroked Penumbra’s mane, in a way definitely reminiscent of Fluttershy. “Well, I can bet they wouldn’t want you mourning them. They still live on inside of you, so, way I see it, you have two choices. One, you can let yourself be destroyed from the inside out by guilt and sadness. Or, two, you can keep pushing on and know that they’d be proud of you.”

Penumbra smiled, she was going to like spending time with Ablazed Glory.