“Tell me her condition has improved.”

The Court Physician gulped back the acid that was rising in his gullet, but could not meet the eyes of Equestria’s greatest hero, who looked more like an old stallion who was facing the death of a grandfoal. The traditional jingle of bells from Starswirl’s hat was absent, since the slightest noise stood the chance of disturbing Celestia on her sickbed. Still, he would not be present if the situation were not dire, so the physician slipped out of the room with him and closed the door silently behind them.

“She sleeps,” managed the physician. “I cannot tell if she will ever wake. The battle took so much from her, and now her sister—”

After a brief impatient moment for the physician to regain his composure, Starswirl shook his head ever so slowly. “We have reached an end. The unicorns cannot raise the sun anymore. The strain was too much for us after all these years where the Royal Sisters took up the burden. A full dozen lie stricken with the attempt, and trying again will simply leave more of them in the grave instead of a bed. She must rise, or all of the world will die.”

“Then the world is doomed.” The physician took a shuddering breath. “I have exhausted my remedies, as have all the competent doctors who tried. The only thing that will bring her back from this abyss is herself. Unless her sister—”

“Nightmare Moon is sealed within the moon forever,” said Starswirl with all the finality of a vault door being closed. Physician and ancient hero shared a long, painful silence without a word being spoken until Starswirl jolted slightly. “No,” he said. “It is too dangerous.”

“What danger do you fear which is greater than the end of all things?” said the physician. “If it will bring her back, tell me, and I shall complete the task in your stead.”

“No, that cannot be. I am owed a favor which I dared not collect, for the being is more powerful than an ant might consider our hoof. If the Nightmare touched him, the results would be far more horrific than merely freezing to death as the sun fails to rise.”

“Do it.” The physician lowered his head. “Luna is lost to us forever, but we should not fear a sacrifice to bring her sister back from the place which she has gone.”

For many minutes, Starswirl remained perfectly silent with his eyes closed. Then to the physician’s complete and total shock, he began to snore.

---

Celestia was the Light, the Sun Over All, and wherever she touched, the darkness fled.

Except here.

Ebon darkness lapped at her flanks, drawn near from where she sprawled in a pool of her own tears. It approached gingerly, as if it knew the slightest touch would destroy it absolutely, but it approached nonetheless. The only thing in this world was her and the dark without measure… but then there was another.

She could not raise her head to look at the new arrival. All her strength was spent, in combat and the loss of Luna. There was nothing left but pain and loss, the agony that would not end no matter how many tears she spent. The only thing she could do was shift positions slightly and call out a warning.

“Go away. You are not wanted.”

“I cannot,” came the reply, from a soft voice that was filled with compassion. “You called for me.”

“I did no such thing. Begone!” The pain once again surged over her, and Celestia returned to her mourning with an anguished wail. “Luna! I didn’t mean to kill you!”

“Your sister has not seen my embrace.” The dark presence settled down at Celestia’s side and touched her gently on the shoulder. “You are immortals, gifted with that which so many others covet above all else. Why do you seek to throw that away?”

“Luna,” gasped Celestia into the ebon expanse which surrounded her. “She is far more than a sister. She is my life, and I cannot live without her. Depart and let me die in peace.”

“As the sovereign of your domain, that command is within your powers. But I cannot both depart and see you to the beyond.”

Blinking away the tears which blurred her vision, Celestia looked up into the dark eyes of a beautiful human sitting by her side. “You are… Death?”

The woman nodded, and continued stroking Celestia’s shoulder.

“Then… It is over. Take me.” Celestia let her head fall to the ground as the tears stopped.

“You are in pain over the loss of your sister, and yet you would impose the same pain upon your beloved?”

“The Elements of Harmony have locked her in the moon forever,” murmured Celestia. “I cannot live without her. Again I say, take me.”

“And yet you are an immortal soul, beyond the restraints of Chronos. What matters a mere forever to one who can endure uncounted eons?”

“The pain is too great to endure for even another minute. Take me,” insisted Celestia a third time.

“Leave her.” A second voice, far more powerful and brutal than the first swept across Celestia’s reclining form like a thunderbolt. Filled with hatred and might, it swelled to a crescendo as the creature approached with long, confident strides. “Greedy aspect! Death shall not touch this ruler as long as I reign. Begone!”

“As you wish.” The soft hand of Death stroked Celestia’s shoulder one last time, reminding her so much of Luna when they were the Royal Sisters Undivided, a powerful force uniting their world, never to be separated. “Remember,” whispered Death, “she lives.”

And then Death was gone as if she had never been.

“Finally,” snapped the new voice. “Pestilent aspect, sticking her nose in where it does not belong. Listen not to her cloying words.”

The anger in the voice brought energy to Celestia’s limp limbs, and she raised her head to look at the new interloper into her misery. This human figure was tall and noble, with spread wings over her back and fire blazing in her eyes as she stopped in front of Celestia and glared down.

“Why do you lie there weeping when you should rage with fury? The subjects of your domain drove your sister into this action! It was they who spurned her beauty and gifts!” One clawed foot prodded Celestia’s side. “Get up, muster your righteous anger, and return to your domain as you should! Strike down the beasts who failed to give proper respect to your sister! Why should they escape blame for their actions?”

“Nay!” snapped Celestia. “The fault was mine!”

“Theirs was the fault first! You are their ruler! Take your place! Rule!”

“By destroying those who I pledged to protect?” Celestia rose to her hooves, wings extending behind her back as the darkness retreated, but the other was not deterred.

“They deserve all the punishment! Fall upon them with fire from the sky and make them give you the respect you spurn! Show your strength by your actions, not hiding from the consequences of their actions. That is your destiny as ruler, not a helpless worm beneath their hooves.”

Light danced at the edges of Celestia’s feathers, flickering flames of the sun where she drew her power. She met the gaze of the dark figure as her light grew, flickered, then lowered to a simmering flame which caused the surrounding darkness to curl away into a circle like interested observers when a fight was nigh.

“I know you,” she said in a near whisper. “I name thee, Samael, who fell from grace and now seek to drag all into the same failure.”

“Failure?” spat the tall figure. “My greatest achievement, and you call it a failure? Long I danced at every command, carrying out His every will. Only when I commanded my own fate, made my own decisions, was I truly free.”

“You lived in the light,” said Celestia softly. “You were the greatest of your kind, an example of what could be. Then you turned to darkness. That was your decision. You chose darkness over light.”

“I choose, said Samael with steel in her voice. “How can we know what is light and darkness if we are denied that simple freedom? You cast that away. You shackled yourself to lesser beings, abased yourself to their demands, cast your crown down into the mud to make them like you. That is your greatest failure.”

“It is our success,” said Celestia, although not with the firmness she wanted. “We lifted them up—”

“And gave them the freedom to make their own decisions,” snapped Samael. “How did that turn out? When your subjects spurned the glory of your sister. When they ignored her dark beauty. When they covered you in meaningless platitudes to sate your pride. They are the source of this corruption, and deserve punishment. How can you stand up for the guilty?”

“I stand up for them all, guilty or not,” managed Celestia weakly.

“Then you acknowledge their guilt.” Samael drew forth a sword flickering with dark fire. “Do not let the guilty escape their fate. Their actions drove your sister to this end. They deserve this. Take up your sword as is your right as ruler. Judge their sins and smite the guilty as examples to them all. Smite them with fire and the lash in the name of your imprisoned sister. Let them know why they are being destroyed until they weep tears of their own at your hooves, and rivers of blood run through the streets. They deserve this and far more.”

For a long moment, Celestia stared at the flaming sword and the vengeance it represented. Everything Samael had said was right. The ponies had been first to spurn Luna’s beautiful sky. She reached forward while considering how they bore the blame for her corruption as much as—

“ENOUGH.”

The voice was power beyond power. It shook the very ground beneath Celestia’s hooves and blew the darkness away like wisps of cloud, revealing a dark plain that extended in all directions without end. Standing a short distance away, a young human child who barely would reach Celestia’s knee regarded Samael with undisguised disgust. His large eyes were pits of pure darkness, ebon as night with tiny flickers of light far, far deeper inside than they should, and that fierce gaze never faltered despite his lesser size.

“Begone!” snarled Samael. “She is mine.”

“She is who she wishes to be,” said the child in a very small voice that nonetheless cut through the air like a blade. “You have no power here, no more than you are given. Or that you take.”

“Slave.” Samael curled her lip and glared down at the child. “You are a powerless fragment of a worthless creature, barely able to control your domain before you were rent asunder. You refuse to use your power as it deserves, much like this one. What fealty do they deserve? We bend our knee when we should be dominating their lives.”

“We,” said the child. “That implies you also bow to a power beneath you, which is a lie. You keep your position by force and guile, and can only see others through that lens. A tool which you seek to use on a ruler who displays a brief weakness so that you can bend her to your domain, rule over her, and use her like the other tools you command.”

“I seek to free her!”

“If you speak the truth, allow her the choice. Let her determine her fate.” The child turned to face Celestia, but only far enough that he still could watch Samael to one side. “Your Highness. I shall not force you to a decision, but I shall support you however you decide.”

“I have made my decision,” said Celestia. She had not yet grasped the nearby sword, but the appearance of the child had thrown her already confused thoughts into chaos, and she could not complete the action until she knew more. “What power do you have here, and how do you seek to use it against my will?”

“I too am a ruler,” said the child. “I also bear no power other than what is given to me, but this is my domain.”

A chill swept up Celestia’s back. “The Dreamer,” she whispered.

“Once, perhaps. Maybe again, should some small portion of what my opponent said is correct. I have been torn into pieces and thrown to the far ends of my domain, which weakened me immensely.” The child stepped forward until he was as close to Celestia as the other. “There is one thing I must tell you before you decide. I bear some portion of responsibility for the actions of your sister.”

“But… How?” Celestia took a step forward to nearly within touching range of both of them despite her best efforts. “The Nightmare—”

“Is mine,” said the child. “My weakness scattered all of me, including the aspects of which I am least proud. One of them found themself here, and the loosening of my control allowed it the freedom to capture a like-minded soul.”

“Luna,” gasped Celestia before taking another step forward and towering over the child. “Give her BACK!”

“I cannot.” This close, Celestia could see every detail of the unusual child, the way his hair flowed in a constant motion of darkness, the paleness of his otherwise normal skin, and an odd backpack of sorts with “PS238” scribed onto it. He showed no fear as he looked up, only sorrow at her pain and the terrifying expression she could see reflected in his eyes, of a madmare on the edge of irrecoverable insanity.

“His actions led to your sister’s corruption,” hissed Samael in her ear. “Slay him, take your vengeance upon his body. You know not of the evils which he has done.”

“Truth, for a change,” said the child. “Many are the actions I have taken that rended worlds, struck down others in numbers beyond reckoning. I make no excuse for those. Sometimes, even the best of intentions can turn the blade in a direction no creature wishes. Still, I did not destroy for the pleasure of the destruction, or torture the innocent into confessions of crimes which they did not commit.”

“Lies,” hissed Samael.

The denial struck like ice in Celestia’s veins, cutting through the raw fury, tossing her chaotic thoughts into a froth. Luna had been overcome by her rage also, destroying with no regard to the lives of others. If she had not been stopped…

“Dreams are lies,” said Celestia quietly. “How can I believe you speak the truth if your entire world is made of falsehoods?”

“That is a lie also. Truth is so precious in my domain that it is treasured above all else. Aspects of truth live in lies, hiding in the crevices and shadows, but only emerge when not watched. I contain the collective consciousness of the universe, their desires, what they could be and fear becoming. Not all could be true, or it would obliterate itself. So we live in a world of lies, seeking truth where we can find it, and clinging to every scrap. Unlike Samael, who cares not for the truth when lies suit her more.”

“I speak the truth that she cannot see. She is blind to her place, like her sister!” snarled Samael, who turned to Celestia and extended the flaming sword for her to grasp. “You can not serve them as a slave and pretend to rule. Rise up above them and show the true glory of your form, your power, your—”

“Begone,” whispered Celestia.

And then there were only two.

“We lie to ourselves,” said Celestia, “saying how brave and honest we are. There are days when lies are all we have. During those times, my sister was a gift beyond measure. Now, those times are all I have left, and the absence leaves me in agony.”

She swayed on her hooves, but the child moved to hold her up with a strength far beyond his appearance, and a voice nearly as much in pain.

“Loss strikes us all in different ways. I have lost all that I once was, all of the aspects under my domain, and yet I feel… nothing. At least until I found myself in a distant place, surrounded by others of many kinds. There, I became a friend where I had never known friendship, took a name which they offered me, and saw miraculous things from a new and unique perspective. Perhaps, we cannot know how to deal with strength until we have experienced weakness, how to appreciate what we have until we have lost it all.”

“I cannot help you,” said Celestia. “I cannot even help myself.”

“That is not true. Every part of myself, every fraction of myself that I recover brings me closer to what I was. Friendship is… a strange thing for the ruler of a domain. Have you friends of your own?”

The denial was on Celestia’s lips, but she could not say it. It was difficult to make friends when you knew they would wither and fade away with the years. Still, there were quite a number of ponies near to her who could be considered friends. Particularly her physician, who had attended to her needs from the moment she collapsed. And Starswirl, perhaps, if one could tolerate his abrasive tongue. For the Dreamer to admit friends…

“Yes. Several. What name do your friends call you?” she asked out of an impulse.

“I have countless names among the cosmos, but I must admit I appreciate the name they gave me. Murphy,” he added with no small amount of pride. “So, perhaps when I am once again whole, we shall both be greater than before.”

The child moved his hand with a haze of white sand seeping through his fingers, sweeping away across the ground and into the sky. Far above, glimmers of light began to appear, alien stars that had never been seen in Equestria since the beginning of time, and shifting as Celestia watched.

“My Nightmare,” said the child. “One of many, but the greatest and most powerful of them all. It has your sister firmly in its grasp, but I can give her respite from the song it sings. Many years must pass before it can be coaxed away from her and back into my service. Many, many years, until your stars align.”

There was a feeling swelling up in Celestia’s breast that she had thought lost forever, a lightness that drove away the darkness and enveloped the pain.

Hope.

“We are immortals,” she said, feeling the meaning of the word for the first time since she had grown into her wings. “If Luna can be freed from the Nightmare and returned, I would give you anything.”

“I ask for nothing in return, nor can I offer you certainty. For your sister, I will sing the songs of N’Goth and Slatharianesh to fill her slumbering hours, so my Nightmare will loosen its grip, and for you, I shall ease your slumbers and take your pain as my own, until she returns.”

“And she will return?” asked Celestia. “If you cannot tell me for certain, lie to me. Give me hope when I have none!”

“I cannot,” said the child. “You ask for hope. That comes from within. The most I can promise is a chance in a thousand years. An opportunity. If successful, you will have your sister back, and I shall reclaim that which is mine so it can no longer cause harm to the innocent.”

“A thousand years,” breathed Celestia. She stood on her own hooves, folding her wings and looking up into the alien stars. “That, I can do, Dreamer.”

“Then it is time for you to awaken, and I shall return to the place where I reside.” The child looked wistful for a moment and added, “They are having something called hash browns for breakfast this morning. I shall speak of you while I dine with my friends.”

---

The physician wanted to wake up Starswirl, but the old stallion had a reputation far beyond his will to risk being turned into a newt or other creature. So he remained, silent and nervous for what seemed like hours until there was something happening beyond the room.

And the sun burst in through the window like it had never left.

“Good morn,” said Celestia as she cautiously opened the door and regarded her physician, curled and uncomfortable on the floor and blinking furiously in the sunlight. “I regret that I caused you distress, but I am feeling better now. Would you like me to fetch some toast and perhaps a glass of juice from the kitchens?”

“No, I can—” The physician regarded the bulk of Starswirl, who was using most of him as a pillow. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he continued after some thought. “And some more for when he awakens.”

“I understand.” Celestia turned her head slightly sideways and regarded the nervous physician with a practiced eye. “And to answer your question, Nightmare Moon is still imprisoned, and shall be for the next thousand years. After which… Well, we will see. There is much to be done before then. Starting with breakfast. With hash browns, if they are available.”

And the Princess of the Sun departed, braced for the upcoming years with a sense of hope that never failed her.