Recurrent
There would be no preamble; she was sure of it.
A lone mare clad in dull iron armor that was covered in scratches and stains both red and black stared at the doors before her. She stood barely higher than the railing next to her, and was nearly as thin. Her helm was cracked along the left side and the plumage that once adorned it had long since been burned off - the ashy scorch marks still visible. She was weary and lightly wounded with a small trickle of blood starting to pool below her left hind leg, but the bright green eyes that emerged from within the helmet were inflamed with determined passion that overrode such concerns of the flesh.
The fresh wound was sure to scar, but should the mare take off her armor it would be at home among the many others that dotted her fur. Some were from blades, some from magic, but most were from the devious traps that had been set up to deter her from getting to where she stood. The most recent slash in her leg was from a bladed pendulum that by all rights should've chopped her in half; it was thanks to some foolish gargoyle that she managed to jump out of the way and avoid the worst. The gargoyle had been sneaking up behind her when it screeched a battle cry and caused the mare to instinctively duck. A large axe head attached to a steel pendulum swung over her head and cleaved the gargoyle's skull in two, and despite the mare's best efforts to get out of the way the return swing still managed to catch her leg.
The tall doors in front of her, colored a bright royal purple, towered upwards. The walls in their pure white marble stretched around the doorway and extended up and around into what was the exterior of the throne room of Canterlot Castle. The short railing to either side of her, also made of marble, ran alongside from the door down a set of stairs that led towards Canterlot proper. The bottom of the steps couldn't be seen through the smog of the city.
Canterlot proper was in a shambles. The taller spires were all collapsed upon the district buildings save two that had fallen against each other and were stuck in a state of limbo above the city. The buildings that had not been crushed experienced rampant fires, erosion, or were shaken apart by tremors. The tremors additionally caused fissures to open up in the foundations of Canterlot which caved in entire neighborhoods, leaving holes that could've been mistaken for meteor strikes.
However, it was the smog that truly portrayed the dead spirit of the city. Emerging from the fissures, it hung in the air like a thick soup and completely blacked out any vision from within. The smog collected in the lower sections of Canterlot proper and trailed lazily off of the mountains edge, giving the impression that Canterlot was bleeding a viscous black blood.
The mare wasn't alive back then, but she knew the stories passed down through generations within the Colony. The smog appeared on the day of the Tragedy. Something emerged from Tarturus and destroyed the moon. The chunks of moonstone that fell to Equestria burned like white phosphorus and exploded upon contact into clouds of black fog that ate away at its surroundings like acid.
The beast from Tarturus was a story told often within the Colony. It was fabled to have been tall enough to touch the sky, with eyes that burned red with fire and claws that were so sharp they cut the air itself into ribbons. It simply reached up and crushed the moon in one claw while crushing poor Luna with the other. The actual descriptions of both the monster itself and the fight between it and Luna vary depending on the level of hatred the pony in question has towards the world.
It then proceeded to attack Celestia directly, who - with the power of the Elements behind her - distracted the beast long enough for the Elements to incapacitate it. Most stories mention that the beast was probably only banished due to the nature of the Elements, but some color the story into a version where it was vaporized into a fine red mist.
The Elements themselves are strangely revered in the story despite the fact that they go on to abandon Equestria just like Celestia. The bearers themselves are described like knights of the highest stature, but the only name that anypony remembers anymore is Twilight being the alicorn that held the Element of Magic. Regardless, the Elements of Harmony removed the threat from Equestria.
Nothing had changed the fact that Luna had died and the moon was gone. Celestia went mad with grief and failed to fix the destruction that had been wrought because she could not handle losing her sister, not again. She gave up on the ponies she had spent a lifetime helping. She had forsaken Equestria and left it to die from the creatures of Tarturus, the pollution of the skies, and the forever burning sun that was slowly killing every living thing in Equestria. Celestia betrayed everypony.
Ponies cried out to the Elements for help, but they too abandoned their fellow pony and left for places unknown. Other nations blamed Equestria for the state of the world, and soon all was blood and death. Those that survived formed the Colony in hopes that one day the effects of the Tragedy would end. Without the Elements or a Princess to lead them, the Colony was led by vengeance. Over two thousand years of struggling to survive and the mare was the Colony's best hope for victory.
The sun was perched blindingly upon the horizon, and like a golden eye it glared at Canterlot with such a burning glance that touching the ground of Canterlot proper singed hooves and claws alike.
The mare didn't look back at Canterlot. After traversing the horrors of the place herself, she had no desire to see it in all of its 'glory'. The only concern upon her mind was of her upcoming confrontation.
As soon as those doors opened, the goddess of that irritating, incessant sun would try to kill her. There would be no comments on the frailty of mortals, no pleas for mercy, no grand schemes to be revealed. The Goddess knew she was here and would end her life without a mention as she had done to so many others before. Why she killed those that sought her out might've been a curiosity at one point, but with the express purpose of every stallion and mare being to slay her for many years, it was no longer a surprise.
The mare wondered if she spoke upon entering, if the Goddess would answer. The mare was convinced that she wouldn't, and why would she? Words had long since lost their meaning to the mare, and surely the Goddess would be no different.
The mare glanced down at the shortsword bound in a sheath to her side. It was old and rusted near the hilt, the sheath was torn and rotting apart, but it was not the killing potential of the blade that gave the mare strength, it was the fact that her father was its original owner, and had valiantly carried it into battle several times before. A single emerald encrusted the cross-guard; once upon a time it had been the same color as her mother's glimmering eyes, but now the gem was cracked and the previous color seemed to have been corrupted by the blood it had spilled, making it a more sickly shade of olive.
The mare closed her eyes and thought of her parents.
They were fairly regular in their build for earth ponies. Her father was a radiant golden with a silver mane and a determination that even the most stalwart heroes would've been envious of. As an experienced blacksmith, he ensured a life for himself and his family within the Colony. In a sharp contrast, her mother was a gentle mare whose smile would warm the heart of the darkest soul in Tartarus. Ponies often said she that the mare looked much like her mother when she was younger.
Her parents hadn't wanted her to go. They didn't have the compulsion for justice that she and the rest of the Colony had. The Goddess had to die, there was no other direction for life to go. Civilization was not going to be rebuilt as the world was, nor would any source of normality emerge until the Goddess was truly dead and the night finally rose upon Equestria.
The mare had never seen one of the fabled 'nights'. It was more of a story than anything at this point. An added drive to the goal of regicide. The mare liked the sound of night though - cool and comforting, dim but not completely dark, an orb that cast an enchantment of ease over the land instead of one of hatred. It would only return if the Goddess was slain.
The wind picked up. A gentle breeze that seemed to lift her spirits and cool some of the sweat within her armor as it caressed her. The mare enjoyed the forgiving air for it would be the last comfort she had before facing her foe.
She unsheathed her sword in one fluid movement and held it in her mouth out to the left, her fighting stance of choice. She gave the saddlebag that was sitting next to her, full of food and other journeying supplies, a forlorn glance before leaving it. The supplies would still be here if she prevailed, and if she didn't, they wouldn't have helped.
She was as ready as she would ever be.
As she pushed her shoulder against the large wooden doors and it slid open, she could hear the distinct sound of magical charge. After many years of traveling she could recognize the sound from across a field, and even if she had no magic to defend herself, she still knew how to dodge.
A metallic noise echoed within the room as she rolled in her armor to the left behind a pillar, but the sound of the magical discharge was much louder and almost rendered her deaf. It also lit up the room in a light so blinding it seemed to take the place of reality. The mare took another roll to the left to the next pillar before the sound of charring metal sizzled in her ears. The stone pillar she had just been taking cover behind until a moment ago was sizzling with heat to the point that the steel bands upon the marble pillar were dribbling boiling metal onto the ground.
The mare ran from her position out to the center of the throne room to see the Goddess in all her corrupt radiance.
The Goddess still stood as tall as she ever did, but the stance took more of a toll on her than it had in previous decades. She leaned favorably on her left side, as her front right hoof had a large scar extending from the forearm to the heel. The wing on that side was tattered to the point that the attaching joint was easily visible, dried blood caking the entire appendage. The remaining bones and ligaments of that wing were dragged out behind the Goddess.
Her coat was a mess of dirt, sweat, and blood. It was evident that many of the messier blood splatters across her fur were not from herself. Her muzzle also had some traces of blood from an unspecified source.
Her face was bruised and beaten. Somepony had previously gouged out her right eye and the Goddess had no mind to repair the wound in any capacity; instead letting it fester into a disgusting black infection. The infection had swollen to the point where the Goddess's right eyelids would not shut.
The horn of the Goddess was the one thing that was immaculate - the source of all her power and the cause of all of the mare's strife.
Princess Celestia, the Goddess of the Dead Sun, gave her no quarter. She didn't acknowledge the fact that she was a subject or that she was anything but a foe. It was comforting in its simplicity. The mare had her share of morally grey battles.
The mare also had her share of fighting foes that were stronger than her. It was all a matter of outsmarting them, and while the Goddess would be no simple-minded foe, the mare had the battle experience of a General from her eighteen years of travel through the most dangerous lands in Equestria. The mare took into account that the Princess had a blind spot on her right side and that the Princess looked weary from centuries of conflict before swapping her grip on the blade and trotting towards her foe.
The fight lasted hours. Explosions rocked the building as the sounds of magic and iron waging war rang out into the distance with a ferocity that would frighten an Ursa Major. Shards of colored glass burst outwards into the city as the noise reached a crescendo and then fell quiet.
After a few minutes of silence, the mare walked quietly out of the throne room to retrieve her saddlebags. Her helm had been cast off to reveal a light yellow earth pony with eyes a darker green than the emerald. Her face sported various burn marks and her lip had been cut open. The iron armor adorning her back was melted to the point that it fused to her fur and flesh. Her back right hoof had been violently ripped off and was bleeding profusely. The mare seemed not to notice as she took her bags back inside, trailing a large line of blood.
Trotting inside revealed Princess Celestia laying dead in a pool of blood with multiple stab wounds to her right side and a slit throat. The mare sat next to her and opened her saddlebags.
She carefully removed a horn from within and cradled it. The expedition to receive such a priceless and rare object was fraught with dangers and had led to more near death experiences than the mare had encountered in the rest of her life combined. Surprisingly, the final encounter of that particular branch of the mare's journey had been remarkably tame, and the memory of the subsequent acquisition would probably remain with her for the rest of her life.
"Many come to take one of them, but fewer leave with one in hoof small pony," a low voice growled.
The mare was in a dark cave in the recess near Tarturus two years previous. Having finally found the foe she needed to best before going to take down her final enemy, the mare drew her weapon.
"Regrowing a horn is no easy task, and after nine pairs I would appreciate it if you would take your leave."
A large figure stood before her and pointed behind her at the exit. The mare gave him a glare and stepped forward.
The large figure threw back his cowl and looked sadly at her.
"The world is now something that no being - not even I - desire to conquer, and yet still ponies cling to the notion that you can fix anything and everything. Do your faint hopes comfort you when you are shivering alone in the cold, or when you are waist deep in the blood of your kind?"
The mare stood silent.
The figure bent over and tilted his head, revealing a pair of curled horns.
"I will fight no longer. If this is what you truly want, take it."
The mare gave a curious look at her... enemy before swiftly cutting off a horn and putting it into her bag. The large figure briefly howled in pain before giving her a sad look.
"I hope you find whatever it is you seek small one, and if you should fall, tell Scorpan his brother tried to atone for his mistakes. I have reflected on what I am for over two thousand years since my last sins, and now perhaps it is time I do something about them."
As the mare turned to leave she stopped and started to open her mouth, but closed it quickly and walked away. Whatever she said would've been immaterial.
Without any more consideration the mare stabbed the skull of the dead Goddess with it. The horn glowed brightly as it removed all magic from Princess Celestia and stored it within itself. The corpse of Celestia turned into a shriveled husk during the process.
The mare stood silently before stabbing herself with the same horn, this time in the forearm.
The pain was excruciating, but the mare didn't make a sound despite the agony portrayed in her grimace, and soon all the power of the Goddess was within her. Every piece of knowledge that the Goddess knew was now hers, and the mare could now cleanse the entirety of Equestria of its pain. She finally had the answers.
The mare frowned.
She thought hard upon what caused the Tragedy, but the knowledge was so limited. She sat to think but the more she thought the closer she got to conclusion that all she had done was fruitless. The power of a Goddess was not enough to save the world.
All the effort and work in the world to reach this single point and end this catastrophic excuse for Equestria, and it was all moot?
She had no power to restore the moon or to move the sun into a controlled orbit once more. She could try to push it away but the sun was the source of her power, and as it grew further away her power would diminish until she wouldn't be able to move it anymore and simply get the sun stuck a little further away from Equestria.
The mare came to two alternative options with disdain as she accepted the worthlessness of her ambitions and struggles.
Either she could bring the sun that little bit closer and destroy this facsimile of life, or she could leave things as they were. If she did the latter she might as well kill herself, but she didn't think that she had the strength to do the former. In her opinion any life at all was better than no life, however corrupt and awful that it was. The small colony of remaining ponies she had come from would never need to know that she had succeeded and failed. As long as there was no more Celestia for them to toil against in what was now a pointless venture-
Then the mare stopped.
If there was no Celestia, what would her life have been in the Colony?
She never would've left her family to begin with, but her purpose in the world would be diminished by the realization that Equestria was simply doomed without hope for retribution. The Colony would've devolved into a society of thugs and lost all ambition.
Come to think of it, the Colony wouldn't be in existence without Celestia as a focal point for their collective ire. Without a common enemy, the Colony would be no more. Ponies would disband into the raiders and marauders that they once were following the Tragedy. Revenge was all that held them together.
Without Celestia there would be no Colony.
What would the common pony do that managed to resist the urge to kill their fellow pony for survival? The majority of ponies would go back to being savage murderers and those few that didn't would just be their victims. The mare had seen plenty of hanging bodies within the plethora of empty buildings that she had traversed. If the mare had been on her own from the beginning, she probably would've done the same.
There had to be a Celestia so that the last ponies of Equestria had a reason to wake up and fight another day. They needed that desire for justice and retribution or they would die out as a species. That was all they had left, and it was up to the mare to preserve that in the survivors. They would hate her for her choice had they the capability to know what she was about to do, but it was for the best.
The mare used the powers of the Goddess and changed her appearance. She would be the figurehead of all that the Colony hated, so that their hate wouldn't turn upon each other. She would be what they blamed, so that they did not blame themselves. There had to be a villain of this piece, and the mare would take the role.
She would be there so that somepony else would eventually come here and achieve as she had. Without the goal there is nothing left for Equestria. Maybe it was only a poor facsimile of what Equestria once was, but it still breathed. It breathed the same air over and over again, and the mare almost had a suspicion that she was not the first to make this conclusion, nor would she be the last.
The next pony would find this as their only recourse and continue the cycle because it kept Equestria alive.
That alone bred hope that one day another might find the cause of all this and fix it, but it was not to be her. She had to give the others a reason to do so, or else all might fall. If there was no point in struggling because the hero had already done so and ultimately failed then Equestria was lost. They can now have hope, convinced that the mare had died in her final battle, and that one day a greater hero will arise to best the final foe.
So the mare that was Celestia stood tall and looked at the door, before using her new-found magic to vaporize the husk of the Celestia that had come before her. She was surprised to find that when she cast the spell - something that should've been simple for an alicorn of her prestige – it took a heavy toll on her magic reserves. Perhaps she was just inexperienced.
She glared at the door as she waited.
She would have to fight them in honesty, lest a weak candidate take her position and abuse it.
So when the door opens, Celestia mused, there shall be no preamble.