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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
Reminiscent
In the Hall of Petitions, departing from the east wing of the Court of the Princesses, there hung an ancient scroll bearing a poem by Quaking Leaf. It was an ode to the dawn, and on its wall facing east it observed, every morning, the slow surrender of night to day. The loops and whorls of its script flowed like water, difficult to read, but within the twists of the brush and lines of ink lurked the hint of motion, as though each word were alive, waiting to crawl off the page.
The dawn was hours late when Celestia destroyed it.
She fled down the corridor, propelled by her wings and magic to several times the speed of sound. The sluggish air, far too slow to move out of her way, compressed before her and caught fire, filling the hall with a flash as bright as the sun. On the scroll, the black ink absorbed a fractionally higher amount of this energy and began to burn, and for a moment the words of Quaking Leaf’s poem lived in flames that licked the charring paper around them.
A thousandth of a second later the shockwave of Celestia’s passage smashed the scroll like a hammer, snuffing the fires and blasting the fragile thing into drifting embers. They died, and shadows and falling dust swallowed all the rest.
Celestia burst from the crumbling palace like a shooting star. Towers that had stood for centuries toppled in climbing plumes of dust. The city shook, and the broad avenues collapsed into the earth, forming depthless, yawning canyons all around her.
She stopped atop a bridge. Drops of blood splattered on its stone parapets, painting black flowers beneath her. The world was colorless but bright – silver and shadows – and she looked up at the source of the cold light.
A full moon leered at her. It was bloated, monstrous, filling half the sky above the dying city. She could see the individual peaks of its mountains.
“Do you like it, Sister?” An icewater voice slid through her mind, and she dove from the bridge moments before the stone exploded. A black, formless mass flickered in the still-expanding fragments, grew still, then shot after her like an arrow made of night.
“Luna, please!” Celestia shouted. She banked beneath a row of flying buttresses that spiraled up a slender tower. They broke like stitches as she passed, and the tower began a long fall into the ruin below. “This isn’t you!”
“This isn’t you!” the voice echoed. For a moment it sounded like Luna, but just as quickly it was lost in mocking laughter that rolled on and on. It sounded like nothing sane.
Celestia chanced a look back. The boiling mass of shadows was closer now, or larger, or both. One liquid pustule rose to the surface and burst, revealing a cyan eye and a thousand teeth, as many teeth as there were stars in the night, all aligned in a shark’s maw, grinning at her. Hungry.
She flew faster.
It was pointless, of course – she could no more escape her sister than she could escape the night. Ahead of her rose a wall of shadows, a wave of darkness stretching across the horizon and rising to the edge of space. She slowed, stopped, and turned to face Luna.
“Please.”
The roiling mass of night exploded, revealing the monster within. If Celestia looked close, she could just barely discern, in the angle of the nightmare’s jaw, her sister’s shadow.
“Too late, Sister,” it said. “One world, one god.”
“We’re not gods.”
It smiled. “And that is why I shall rule. You have the tools to stop me, but you are too weak to use them. Beg me, and I will be quick.”
Could she? Could she fight her sister? Always before the answer had been ‘no.’ Now, faced with this monster, with a silver spear crafted from moonlight lancing toward her chest, with her city in ruins, with her beloved ponies scattered in terror of the living, breathing night, Celestia closed her eyes and thought.
It was time to find out.
“I love you,” Celestia whispered.
Luna looked up. Their table was littered with dozens of letters from Twilight Sparkle – her sister had taken an interest in reading them.
“And I you, sister.” She paused. “May I ask what gives rise to such an unexpected, yet welcome, declaration?”
Celestia blushed. “Sorry, just daydreaming.”
“Ah.”
And she went back to her reading.
The dawn was hours late when Celestia destroyed it.
She fled down the corridor, propelled by her wings and magic to several times the speed of sound. The sluggish air, far too slow to move out of her way, compressed before her and caught fire, filling the hall with a flash as bright as the sun. On the scroll, the black ink absorbed a fractionally higher amount of this energy and began to burn, and for a moment the words of Quaking Leaf’s poem lived in flames that licked the charring paper around them.
A thousandth of a second later the shockwave of Celestia’s passage smashed the scroll like a hammer, snuffing the fires and blasting the fragile thing into drifting embers. They died, and shadows and falling dust swallowed all the rest.
Celestia burst from the crumbling palace like a shooting star. Towers that had stood for centuries toppled in climbing plumes of dust. The city shook, and the broad avenues collapsed into the earth, forming depthless, yawning canyons all around her.
She stopped atop a bridge. Drops of blood splattered on its stone parapets, painting black flowers beneath her. The world was colorless but bright – silver and shadows – and she looked up at the source of the cold light.
A full moon leered at her. It was bloated, monstrous, filling half the sky above the dying city. She could see the individual peaks of its mountains.
“Do you like it, Sister?” An icewater voice slid through her mind, and she dove from the bridge moments before the stone exploded. A black, formless mass flickered in the still-expanding fragments, grew still, then shot after her like an arrow made of night.
“Luna, please!” Celestia shouted. She banked beneath a row of flying buttresses that spiraled up a slender tower. They broke like stitches as she passed, and the tower began a long fall into the ruin below. “This isn’t you!”
“This isn’t you!” the voice echoed. For a moment it sounded like Luna, but just as quickly it was lost in mocking laughter that rolled on and on. It sounded like nothing sane.
Celestia chanced a look back. The boiling mass of shadows was closer now, or larger, or both. One liquid pustule rose to the surface and burst, revealing a cyan eye and a thousand teeth, as many teeth as there were stars in the night, all aligned in a shark’s maw, grinning at her. Hungry.
She flew faster.
It was pointless, of course – she could no more escape her sister than she could escape the night. Ahead of her rose a wall of shadows, a wave of darkness stretching across the horizon and rising to the edge of space. She slowed, stopped, and turned to face Luna.
“Please.”
The roiling mass of night exploded, revealing the monster within. If Celestia looked close, she could just barely discern, in the angle of the nightmare’s jaw, her sister’s shadow.
“Too late, Sister,” it said. “One world, one god.”
“We’re not gods.”
It smiled. “And that is why I shall rule. You have the tools to stop me, but you are too weak to use them. Beg me, and I will be quick.”
Could she? Could she fight her sister? Always before the answer had been ‘no.’ Now, faced with this monster, with a silver spear crafted from moonlight lancing toward her chest, with her city in ruins, with her beloved ponies scattered in terror of the living, breathing night, Celestia closed her eyes and thought.
It was time to find out.
“I love you,” Celestia whispered.
Luna looked up. Their table was littered with dozens of letters from Twilight Sparkle – her sister had taken an interest in reading them.
“And I you, sister.” She paused. “May I ask what gives rise to such an unexpected, yet welcome, declaration?”
Celestia blushed. “Sorry, just daydreaming.”
“Ah.”
And she went back to her reading.