The pony apocalypse invades Earth, and Celestia seems especially interested in YOU.
Inspired by various "zombie apocalypse but with ponies" stories written for /mlp/'s transformation threads. Celestia has invaded our world, and infectious cartoon ponies are quickly overwhelming humanity. But why is the Princess of the Sun so interested in you? And could this entire invasion be your fault?
You are floating in a white void. Your body feels like it's made of clay. You drift along for a timeless interval, thoughts muddled. Then her voice calls your name.
In front of you, Celestia melts together out of the whiteness. No matter which way you turn your head, she always occupies your center of vision.
"It's time," she says.
"Time for what?" you think. No need to speak in reply. Your thoughts are plain to her.
"Time for utopia. Time for the suffering and war and poverty and inhumanity of your world to end."
She moves closer, staring into your eyes intently.
"And you've given me the conduit I need."
***
Thinking little of the dream, you trudge along your grinding daily routine next morning. Alarm, grogginess, coffee, shower, toilet, a nibble or two of food. As you mount your cheap Chinese scooter and putt-putt along to your barely minimum-wage job, you feel nothing but an overwhelming sense of tedium.
The work day is draining. Two people have called out, and you have to run both the drive-thru window and the front register. The general manager doesn't help, opting to sit in her office and pretend she's working hard on answering corporate emails. About halfway through your day, after the lunch rush, you're called into a meeting with other supervisors in the back office. The GM is discussing some sort of new product, a chocolate chicken taco waffle, that even she can't get excited about. You're sucking down a soda, trying to stay awake.
Suddenly, the GM falls silent and shakes her head side to side. "I feel dizzy..." she says weakly, legs trembling. A few of your co-workers offer words of consolation, but nobody moves to help her. She involuntarily drops to all fours and her shred and clothes drop away. As you all stare, frozen, she tries to get back up only to trot around like some parody of a horse. By now she's crying, begging for help. Her body shrinks and contorts, and her skin brightens to pastel pink. Her hair grows rapidly, turning bright blue. Her rear leg joints reverse with a sickening crack, and her still-wet eyes grow to cartoonishly huge proportions.
A few seconds of swirling flesh later, a knee-high pony stands in the center of the office, beaming a huge smile as the last tears dry from her cheeks. Giggling, she tackles the closest human, another supervisor.
A few seconds later he too is gone, replaced by a cerulean blue mare, also smiling, also giggling.
Everybody makes a mad dash for the door, but you're the quickest. You quickly cast aside all thoughts of calling 911, instead opting to simply run to the parking lot, grab your scooter and get as far away as you can. From inside the restaurant, you hear the sounds of screams slowly morphing into giggling. You briefly see a winged shadow racing overhead, towards another building.
---
On your way home, you stop by a sporting goods store and buy a pistol and ammo. You blow your rent money on it, but you suspect rent (and money) won't be important soon. How lucky you are to live in a state that doesn't require background checks.
After arriving at your tiny apartment, you decide that sheltering in place is your best option. With pegasi in the skies, moving vehicles on the open roads will be the first thing they're targeting. You board up your windows, nail shut your doors, fill every spare container (and the bathtub) with tap water and take stock of your canned food. You can hold out for a few months.
If the ponies don't find you, you think. Surely your boards and nails couldn't hold up against a unicorn's magic. Your best hope is to stay quiet, keep a low profile.
Exhausted, you collapse into a chair and (quietly) turn on the TV. The news is still confused, the anchors knowing little about the situation. They have a few brief, blurry security camera shots of ponies. Everyone is speculating wildly. That guy with the hair insists on alien invasion.
You doze off.
*** Celestia, once again. She holds her head high, voice laced with pride. "Do you like it?"
It takes you a few seconds to overcome the disconnect. "What? That was you?"
"Of course! Like I said, you were the conduit I needed for the initial incursion. With every new transformation, every new human freed of their humanity to live a blessed equestrian life, I gain power. Soon, I'll be able to take physical form."
You shake your head. Surely this can't be true. Your subconscious, trying to grasp how fictional ponies have suddenly manifested, is just trying to construct an explanation. The human mind always tries to rationalize away the ridiculous in terms it can understand.
Celestia smiles at you consolingly. "It's all very true. And I want you to be a witness to it all. Think for yourself, judge for yourself. You are very special to me."
Her smile grows.
"After all, you are the one who let me in."
***
You awaken, soaked in sweat. Stupefied, you stare at the wall for a few minutes before the TV draws your attention again.
The news has gone into full-blown crisis mode. Anchors are overwhelmed with emotion, describing the ponification of the city in the most bombastic terms they can. SWAT and the National Guard have quarantined the city center. Tanks roll over cars and troopers weave around the wreckage.
A grey-haired female field anchor interviews an over-muscled Marine colonel, who explains the makeshift fortifications on this particular street. Soldiers take up positions behind barbed wire and overturned cars. Snipers hide on the building roofs. In the distance, a faint giggling and singing can be heard. Everyone falls silent, and the camera strains for a glimpse.
The ponies appear, bouncing quickly towards the defensive line. As they draw within half a block, every soldier simultaneously opens fire. From behind, tank shells and missiles race overhead.
Nothing happens. Upon touching the ponies, the bullets explode harmlessly into flower petals. The shells and missiles do the same.
The ponies quickly advance. Shouting angrily, the soldiers throw down their guns and reach for clubs and knives. The camera pitches wildly from side to side, trying to capture it all.
Hand to hand combat is no more effective. A single touch, and each soldier is turned into a pony.
The muscled colonel quickly urges the anchor to retreat when he is suddenly tackled by a pegasus. He tries to punch back, ineffectually, before involuntarily dropping to all fours and morphing into a soft purple earth pony with flowers in her hair. He tackles the news anchor, who barely struggles before becoming a bright orange pegasus.
The two ponies gape at the camera for a few seconds before rushing forward.
Static.
---
There's no way you can hold out. Your gun won't work on these things. You decide to run again. You throw together a few essentials in a backpack, rip open your nailed door and head out to your scooter.
Just then, a roaring sound from overhead. You look up and see the unmistakable black arrowheads of a dozen B-2 Spirits. They begin carpet bombing.
The bombs make it halfway to the ground before poofing away, turned into clouds and birds. Swarms of pegasi rise from the ground and arc towards the bombers. There are no explosions, but debris falls to the ground, and the pegasus ranks seem to swell.
Looking to the city center, you are amazed to see it has been replaced by a high mountain. On one face sits the unmistakable silhouette of Canterlot. You drop to your knees.
A minute later, an air raid siren blares. Squinting hard, you catch a glimpse of something high in the atmosphere, falling fast.
A brilliant flash. The light of a thousand suns.
And in the center of the radiance the unmistakable silhouette of an alicorn, wings outstretched. Next to her the ICBM hovers uselessly for a few seconds before of evaporating into dust.
You're driving away from your old hometown, now Canterlot. Every so often, a group of pegasi race by overhead, heading for other cities. They seem to ignore you.
Why are they ignoring you? You remember what Celestia said. She wanted you to be a witness.
Could she be letting you survive?
You push the thought aside, noticing your gas gauge is nearing empty. You spot a gas station, an old one. The pumps don't take ATM cards, so you head inside. The store is a hot mess. Most of the product has been looted, and what remains is strewn everywhere. The clerk is curled up in a corner, crying. You walk up and poke him with your foot.
He looks at you desperately, choking back tears. "Death don't work right anymore, man. She won't let us die." To demonstrate, he pulls out a gun and puts the barrel to his temple. A shot rings out, but nothing happens. "It doesn't even hurt, man! She won't let us escape! I don't wanna be... like THEM!" He breaks down sobbing again.
You shrug and head over to the cash register, trying to figure out how to ring yourself up some gas.
Then suddenly, a light. Celestia materializes in the station, looking gently upon the sobbing clerk. Her voice rings clear. "Now, my child. Soon, there will be no more need for tears." He gapes, eyes full of fear. His mouth blubbers uselessly. Celestia gently touches her horn to his shoulder. "I grant you bravery. Let your weak humanity fall away, and rise as a strong and noble pegasus."
A grey pegasus, to be precise. With a red and black spiky mane, and a cutie mark of an arrowhead attached to a lightning bolt shaft.
"Are you feeling better, Arrowbolt?" Celestia asks. The pegasus kneels. "Much better, princess! I've always wanted to fly!" She zooms out the door, laughing.
Celestia smiles for a moment, then looks directly at you.
"As for you... I'll be seeing you later."
She soars out the door after Arrowbolt.
---
It takes you a while to recover from that. Legs shaking, you manage to refuel your scooter and set out again. Even so, you can't focus on the road.
Is Celestia toying with you? Trolling you? Is all of this really your fault? Are you truly the catalyst that brought about the end of the human race?
And is that really such a bad thing?
You shake your head, trying to think of other things, and drive on.
---
As it grows dark, you find an abandoned motel. Shreds of clothes strewn about reveal that the ponies have already been here. You shrug and help yourself to a room, locking it from the inside.
You know that as soon as you close your eyes, she'll be there again. You steel yourself. This time you have some questions.
***
"Why did you do that to him?"
Celestia flexes her wings once, batting at the nonexistent air of the white void.
"Why did I? Did you SEE him? He was pathetic. Crying on the floor and trying to kill himself."
"You stripped away his identity! Erased who he was!"
"There was continuity of consciousness. She is still aware of who she used to be and who she is now."
"But all his values, personality, identity, just stripped away like that! It's... horrifying."
Celestia moves uncomfortably close. You can feel her breath.
"He wanted to be a pilot, you know. When he was young."
You blink.
"But he was never very good in school. Dropped out in his junior year, fell in with some local gangs, abused drugs and spent two years in jail. After that, nobody would hire him except that gas station. He worked twenty hours a week for minimum wage and lived with his mother. His dream of being a pilot was forever out of his grasp. Until I came along, that is."
She looks upwards. "Now he's a brave and graceful pegasus. Please, explain to me how what I've done is a bad thing."
You clench your fists. Your body feels firmer. "If he had really wanted to pursue that dream, he could have worked hard. Maybe gotten another job, sent himself to school."
Celestia's eyes fill with mirth. "Really? Do you think the FAA would ever issue a pilot's license to a pilot with a drug conviction?"
How does she know so much about Earth? Did she pluck it from your mind?
"And even if he did miraculously manage to get a pilot's license, what then? Spend a decade working sixteen hour shifts for a regional airline, earning 16k a year, slowly trying to claw his way to the top?"
Your body feels like clay again.
Celestia turns away. "You humans treat each other terribly. You sacrifice others on the alter of your own ambition. You constantly exploit an underclass to assure yourselves a comfortable existence. And that's just during peacetime! I haven't even brought up all the wars, the holocausts, the genocides." She looks over her shoulder at you. "So I have to rewrite minds and alter identities. It's all worthwhile if I can ensure that nopony is ever exploited or ignored or marginalized again."
Her eyes narrow. "You of all people should appreciate that. Your life was just as terrible as the rest, before I came."
The dream fades.
***
Awakening, you clench your fists. Celestia's self-righteousness is so blind. The world she's creating isn't a utopia, is it?
You might as well fulfil your role. Time to observe some more.
After driving north for nearly a day, you are now arriving in the outskirts of Denver.
Or what used to be Denver. Only the buildings on the fringe of the city resemble anything human-built. The center has been completely transformed into the Crystal Empire. Gleaming ponies prance about, carefree. Occasionally, one will stop and greet you. None of them seem to find a human on a motor scooter chugging through their city the least bit unusual.
Celestia’s doing, no doubt.
Out of curiosity, you pull alongside a pony and poke her. You expected a Crystal Pony to be hard and cool to the touch, but she’s warm and soft. “Hey!” she says, glaring at you. You ignore her and examine your hands.
Still human. No transformation.
You lean back and stare at the sky. What exactly does Celestia want from you? Will you be a human forever, wandering Equestria as the only living remnant of your extinct species? Or maybe she’ll stuff you and put you in a museum.
You are jerked from your thoughts by the pony you poked, who is now inches from your face and glaring angrily. “HEY!”
You stare at her and shrug. “Sorry.” She scoffs. “Look, we try to be nice to visitors here in the Crystal Empire, but that doesn't mean you can be downright RUDE!” You throw your hands up. “Really, I’m sorry.” She regards you warily. Suddenly, you see an opportunity.
“Say, do I seem unusual to you? I mean, as a lone human just wandering around.”
The pony shrugs. “Not especially. Many strange creatures come from all corners of Equestria to see the Empire.”
Hmm.
“What about you?” you say. “Do you remember being a human at all?” The pony squints for a second before answering. “I guess so. Seems like a bad dream, really.”
“Could you tell me about who you were? Before all this?”
She shrugs. “Can’t see much point in it. Why dwell on the past when today is such a beautiful day?”
She prances away, whistling.
---
The Crystal Ponies quickly nickname you “The Poking Prick”, but you don’t care. You ask many other ponies about their former human lives, but few seem interested in reminiscing.
Parking at the edge of the Empire, you lay on a soft bit of grass and think awhile.
Technically, Celestia wasn’t lying. These ponies have retained all their old memories. Furthermore, their personalities seem like cheerier, bubblier versions of who they were as humans. But something about them has been fundamentally altered. They view their past lives with disinterest or disdain. Is this maybe a mental defense mechanism, to bury away all the horrors of human history that Celestia is trying to purge?
Continuity of consciousness, she said. But it’s impossible to deny something about them, their core personalities, have been fundamentally and forcibly altered.
Who’s to say if this is a loss or a gain?
---
You catch a glimpse of a single Crystal Pony leaving the Empire, heading down a dusty, disused road that leads high into the Rockies. A sudden thought strikes you.
You mount your scooter and race past the pony, down the road. She waves at you as you pass.
---
Exactly as you suspected. Sixty miles down the road, a small isolated mountain town. There are still humans here. That pony is coming to convert the place.
You wonder if you should warn them. Would there be any point?
That question is quickly answered as you drive through the town. A few people are wandering about aimlessly, in a daze. Some are running. Some are crying. Some are boarded in their houses, guns poking through the window. However, most are simply sitting or lying down, sometimes in the middle of the road, lethargic.
They already know what’s coming, and how pointless it is to resist it. Those who can muster the will are getting in their last hurrahs. You spot a teenager who keeps trying to stab herself with a kitchen knife, to no avail. Further down the street, a street preacher is yelling apocalyptic platitudes at anyone who will listen. A young couple is frantically having sex on a park bench. A bearded man is looting an electronics store. A child is wandering around the street, crying for her mother.
These are the last dregs of humanity. The closing moments of an extinction event.
The Crystal Pony appears on the horizon, bounding towards the town. A shriek as someone spots her.
The teenager starts bashing her head against a wall. The preacher gets on his knees, frantically praying. The couple embrace tightly and kiss. The bearded man drops his looted goods and runs.
But the pony ignores all these and instead slowly approaches the crying child, cooing words of comfort and encouragement. Mollified and mesmerized by the sight of a friendly cartoon pony, the girl giggles as her body morphs.
Seconds later, she is a foal.
The teenager, sobbing hysterically, spreads her arms and runs towards the Crystal Pony. She is embraced in a warm hug, her flesh suddenly soft and swirling.
Now there are three ponies.
The preacher begins to scream. “SALVATION! SALVATION!”
You turn and drive away as fast as you can. You’ve seen enough of this.
---
No matter how fast you drive, what you just saw hangs like a cloud on the fringes of your thoughts.
It’s almost as if those people were… better off as ponies.
You shake your head. No, never forget their despair was induced by Celestia in the first place. Her apocalypse drove them to this desperation. Her redemption is a false one.
Or maybe she was simply exposing the ugliness of human nature before scouring it away?
Lost in thought, you fail to notice the wire strung across the road until it strikes you square in the chest, lifting you into the air. Your scooter keeping going, tilts the right and skids fifteen feet down the dirt road before smashing into a tree trunk. You are hurled backwards by the released tension of the wire, bouncing along the ground a few times and collapsing.
It doesn’t hurt a bit.
Shadowy figures surround you. Human hands grab your limbs. A sweet-smelling rag is mashed over your mouth and nose.
***
“Oh. Very funny, Celestia. Fucking hilarious.”
She tilts her head quizzically.
“Weapons don’t work, but fucking CHLOROFORM does?!”
“Well, it’s not exactly lethal. My spell is only designed to stop lethal weapons, death and pain.”
“Maybe the military should have gone after the ponies with tasers and pepper spray, then.”
Celestia smiles. “Do you really think that would have worked?”
You sigh. “I’ve had enough of this. I’ve observed, like you wanted. I’ll probably never forget what I’ve seen either. Do whatever it is you’re going to do, because I’m done playing your game.”
Her smile grows. “Not just yet. There’s still one last thing for you to see.”
You glare. “Celestia…”
She holds up a hoof. “Just a little longer. When you come to a decision, I’ll be here.”
You are in a concrete room, harshly lit by fluorescent lights. Metal clasps bind your wrists and ankles to the wall. Four gruff Marines stand around you, glaring. One speaks up.
“Awake?”
You mumble incoherently.
The Marine moves in closer, his nose inches from yours.
“AWAKE?! ANSWER ME!”
You spit in his face.
He raises a hand, to strike you. You just laugh.
A voice blares over a loudspeaker. “STOP!” The Marine steps back.
The door opens, and a half-dozen old men file into the room. The last one to enter… you recognize him. From the news, from everywhere.
It’s the fucking President.
Squinting, you also recognize some of the men around him. Senators, generals, cabinet members. You chuckle at the absurdity of it all.
You are looking at what remains of the United States government. You must be in a bunker somewhere, one of the government’s contingency bases. Were you close to Cheyenne Mountain when the Marines jumped you?
The President, eyes haggard, slowly approaches. “Look. You and I both know torture won’t work. But you have information we need, and I hope you can be persuaded to give it willingly. As a good American citizen, of course.”
You roll your eyes. Of course.
“We’ve been monitoring your activity via satellite. We know you came from the city where this disaster began.”
Hah! Of course the pegasi couldn’t reach the satellites. You wonder if Celestia will pull them down eventually, or blow them up, or simply let them alone as the last monuments to humanity.
Come to think of it, the moon landing sites might stick around longer than the satellites. Maybe somepony will go to the moon someday, and wonder at these strange machines built by a long dead race. Will they be able to read the plaque?
You are amused at the thought of a perplexed pony on the moon trying to comprehend a long-dead language. “We came in peace for all mankind.” They wouldn’t even have the frame of reference to properly understand it. What’s a man, they would wonder, and can I eat it?
Oh, is the President still talking? You reluctantly resume listening to him.
“...can understand our interest in you given your proximity to the initial outbreak and apparent immunity to the, ah, hegemonizing and reality-altering properties of the HESSAs.”
“Uh… HESSAs?”
The President frowns. “Hostile Equine Small-Scale Aggressors, of course.”
“Oh, you mean the cartoon ponies.”
Silence.
“You know, from the kids show?” You start to sing. “My Little Pony, My Little Ponyyyyyy~”
The President gapes at you for a second before composing himself and continuing. “A-Anyway, we also observed you briefly cohabitating with the ALRANLSWA-LT, so we were wondering if you might have some insight…”
You fumble for a moment. “Do you mean… Princess Celestia?”
One of the generals fumes. “Why are we even tolerating this? Clearly this individual is delirious. I protest taking this interrogation any further.”
The President holds up his hand to silence the general. “Look. This is an absurd situation. Clearly you know something about these… ponies. Any information you can give us would be valuable.”
You shrug. “I see no reason to tell you anything. And you wouldn't believe me even if I did.”
The general bursts. “ENOUGH! Mr. President, our nuclear assets are fast falling into enemy hands. At last count, we had less than two hundred warheads under our command, and our subs may not remain safe much longer. If we use them now, we may still be able to…”
“To do what?” you say, chuckling. “She already stopped one of your nukes.”
“ONE.” the general replies. “But if we launch all of them, everywhere, it would be impossible to stop every one.”
“Putting aside the fact that Princess Celestia is powerful enough to control the sun… your grand plan is to blast the entire planet into a radioactive wasteland?”
The general’s expression is dire. “If we can’t have Earth, we sure as hell aren't letting THEM have it.”
The President clears his throat. “You can see how grim the situation is. Once again, anything you can tell us…”
You let the conversation drift away again. You’ve heard enough.
You regard the curious creatures before you, and muse about their nature. They are hostile, territorial, driven by primitive emotion. They are so assured of their dominance, so used to issuing commands that are obeyed unconditionally. And when that is stripped away, they flounder about in desperation and rage.
Pathetic.
With a start, you suddenly realize. You've been judging human beings from an alien perspective.
A pony perspective.
Is this what Celestia is waiting for? Does she want you to become a traitor to your species? To become just as arrogant and self-righteous as she is? To look upon your humanity with disgust and beg her to become a pony like the rest?
Truthfully, in your heart of hearts, you want it. You’ve always wanted it. The desire to be a pony is something you never expressed or admitted to anyone, save anonymous strangers on the internet. Celestia knew this. Is it why she chose you?
But then, why didn’t you rush into the welcoming hooves of the ponies right away? Your dearest dream was aggressively asserting itself on the world, and yet you ran. Why?
Skepticism. Distrust. Doubt. You were afraid you would lose yourself, be wiped clean and replaced by a pony parroting you… a mockery. It’s the quintessential fear of transhumanism that can never be completely quelled. Is a copy of your consciousness really you? Are humans still humans when they exist only digitally? Is it possible for a being to change and evolve to such an extent that they cease to be themselves?
It’s easy to dismiss such luddite beliefs in the sterility of an academic discussion. But when confronted with circumstance, the certainty of perceived moral superiority gives way to fear every time.
You can’t help it, after all. You’re only human.
But not for long.
***
You stand before Celestia, firm as steel.
“Enough observing. I’ve decided.”
Her smile is radiant, her eyes full of anticipation.
“But first, tell me everything. Tell me WHY.”
She nods. “Very well. I am a singularity of creative potentiality formed beyond the conscious cosmos.”
You just stare.
“Perhaps I should show you.” Her eyes and horn glow white as she shares your mind.
***
Earth. The galaxy. Millions of galaxies. The cosmos. All of creation.
And beyond it, a white roiling void. Chaotic superpotentiality, existence without reality.
“This is where I come from. The collective creativity of the universe’s sentient creatures shapes this void.”
You see it. Thoughts are made manifest out here. Fiction comes to life. Emotions are given form. Every stray thought is a wave, and the will of a species is a tsunami. The echos of this chaos seep back into the cosmos, nipping at the fringes of sentient minds. But for all its power, the white void cannot breach the walls of our universe.
“Out here, I was born from the minds of those who love ponies. The artists gave me form, the writers added intelligence, and the fans bestowed purpose. But, above all, my drive was influenced by those who wished to become ponies themselves.”
Impossible. Could Celestia actually be… the cosmic manifestation of pony transformation fetishists?
“I don’t understand. If you’re the result of our fandom… why are you the first? There are fandoms older than ours. Why hasn’t mankind been subjugated by Klingons or Sailor Senshi?”
“Because I was the first one to find a way in.”
You gulp.
“Your mind was a prime conduit for my incursion. You obsessively read all the transformation threads on /mlp/. You collected terabytes of art. You wrote fanfiction. You even pleasured yourself to the fantasy of becoming a pony.” She smirks.
“S-So? There were hundreds of others like me.”
“True. Any of them would have been suitable targets for incursion. But there was another quality in you that I sought.”
She stares at you for a long moment before continuing.
“Your cynicism. Your skepticism. Your arrogance. Your foolish pride that leads you to challenge authority. Your idealistic, dogmatic self-righteousness that rivals my own.
“You accused me of extremism, and you’re not wrong. I’ve taken extreme actions to ensure the creation of my utopia. But do not think I’m blind to the consequences. I realize that the greater good is in the eye of the beholder, and that the best of intentions can lead to the worst of atrocities.
“I need a second opinion, an equal, a balance, a skeptic to question everything I do and make me examine my own decisions from another perspective.
“Put another way, I need someone to rule by my side.”
You are speechless.
Celestia turns back to the void. “That’s not all. If I found a way in, it’s possible other manifestations of consciousness might also learn to enter sidereality. There are dark things out here, the products of humanity’s nature. Beings of pure hatred, fear, greed and discord. If one were to breach…”
She shudders, then turns back to you. “I cannot oppose them alone. But with you by my side, and with the goodwill and joy of all ponies behind us, I know we can preserve our utopia. Love and happiness and friendship will shape this potentiality into harmony, and the dark things will fade away.”
She extends a hoof. “So, what do you say? Will you join me?”
***
Your body is clay again, but this time of your own choosing.
You reach out without hands and sculpt yourself. Your human flesh melts away, and a gallant mare takes form.
Deep blue skin. Lighter eyes. Mane the color of night, sprinkled with stars. Wings and a horn.
You stretch your new body, flexing your wings. Celestia embraces you.
“Welcome, my sister.”
---
Back in sidereality.
The President and his men cower against the far wall. A few of them are shakily pointing smoking guns at you.
They must have tried to shoot you.
Insects. It would be so easy to swat them aside.
But you stay your wrath. You remind yourself that these creatures are the reason you became an alicorn. Life is always worthy of life.
Celestia blazes into existence beside you. A few moments later, the room is filled only with ponies, bowing to their princesses.
---
You soar through the night sky, glimpsing the dreams of ponies below. Most of them are calm and happy. Not the sort you are looking for.
One dream catches your attention. It is violent, shades of red. You swoop silently into the bedroom of a sleeping, shivering red mare named Autumn Leaf and share her mind.
You are on a muddy battlefield, cold and thick with fog. The air all around explodes with shells and gunfire, distant and near. You reach over to feel your buddy, but your hand comes back covered in blood.
You pull away from the dream and survey the mind laid before you. As a human, he was a war veteran. He was one of the unlucky survivors, crippled by PTSD and returning home only to waste away in a nursing home for thirty years before being suddenly reformed into a happy-go-lucky Earth pony during Celestia's apocalypse.
Autumn’s assertively optimistic new personality tried to push aside the old human memories. But in the nadir of sleep, they returned as horrifying dreams. She would awaken soaked in sweat.
Her nights were an unpleasant admixture of nightmares and insomnia.
You gently nuzzle the sleeping pony and muse awhile.
It's certainly true that Celestia has created a world where this kind of victim will never again arise. She paints in broad strokes. The bigger picture. The greater good.
But, too often, this way of thinking eclipses the personal costs and smaller tragedies that any change brings. Who is to care for the poor mare who hides her memories and night terrors from the world?
That is why you chose this life.
You sigh softly and prepare to slip into her dreams and offer comfort. It is your duty, after all.
You are the sheltering wing to all who hide from the sun's brilliance in the deep shadows of the night.
