‘Luca’

       

        ▪     ▪     ▪

 

        The shadow in the crimson sand up ahead was an outing of many things to her.  

 

        As she sat, quietly looking at him, she heard her sister at her side, not there but her voice had now found its way here too, it seemed.  Drifting somewhere along a sea of static, a nagging whisper, relentless in its assault.  She forced it back, the tone just like it'd been back then, just as accusing — and perhaps just a little more disappointed.

 

        Unlike other times, she hadn't ran towards him.  Her laden mind'd turned her legs into puddles of lead and her head into something even denser.  Instead, she'd seated herself atop of a dune, a small distance away from the cylindrical sea.  He hadn't seen her, or if he did, he'd yet to show so.

 

        It was a display of arrogance, she knew.  Contrary to most she'd encountered in life, she couldn't seem to uphold the feigned disgust others masked themselves with when they spoke of arrogance.  Just how bad can it be, she thought, to value your own worth?  Who else could judge a life better than the one who lived it?

 

        She'd seen the darker end of it, as well — but only deemed herself more righteous by it, to remain true to her own perspective, exile and solitude further strengthening her resolve.

 

        She felt the cold gloom nip at her from behind and shivered.  

 

        It wouldn't harm her — couldn't harm her, not here, not anywhere — she knew, but that certainly didn't stop it from trying.  She shifted forwards, away from it and glared at the impatience with which it inched its way over the sand, oblong tentacles gleaming ebony slowly crawling towards the sea like a sickly animal.  Her stronghold grew smaller and smaller every passing day.

 

        It had all been grand, once, a long time ago.  The shadows were just that, portent of something looming a far distance away, something unreal, barely a hint of the thing that ought to be feared.  Now instead, inches away from her.

 

        From him.

 

        She'd started making assumptions.  About when she would no longer be able to hold the dark back from overtaking it all; lost, the entire world, the beach.  The Fear coiled itself around her heart like a snake, legs turning weak — heavy head and she fled to her room, to roam obscure tomes for magic that was meant to be lost in time.

 

        Hours upon hours were spent in solitude again, locked away from the world.  Neither the signs on the walls nor the whispered warnings made it.  Not to her readings, not to her.

 

        Books, scrolls and scriptures in various states of decay became devoured swiftly for weeks on end.  Only to find a single possible answer on parchments deemed forbidden long ago, her only remaining options.  She read underneath a full moon she hadn't raised, writings in language obscured through time.  Her eyes, involuntarily squinted into tiny slits, finally came to rest for the first time in what must've been days on a crude sketch of herself and her sister there.  She'd seen it before, in other books and scriptures; they always stood in their same positions, towering high above all else.  Though the precise words no longer existed, their meaning was as clear as the moon's reflection falling in through the window: the bastions of wisdom — paragons of peace.  ʻThe ever-shining lights of the world,ʼ the shaky lines underneath the image once read.  

 

        Eloquent, she thought, these ancients.

 

        She longed for that time where societies thought of them both as such, now so far gone they might not have even been real; but her thoughts strayed, falling apart raptly as she began to realize then, that she herself was the solution against the dark.  That for as long as she stayed, harm would not — could not — come, not here.  Can it even rightfully be called arrogance?  

 

        Tiny particles of sand struck her, adrift in a soft wind.  She neglected the voice it carried.

 

        It served as a never-ending memory, too.  Maybe not a memory — not a proper one.  Memories belonged to the past, and here, there was only a present.  A Now that'd begun in the dark, but would never go back there, or go there at all.  It would remain as it were Now, she'd see to that.  Her world would not shrink anymore — perfection in perpetual suspension.

 

        A world where the vast expenses of sand and pebbles were dyed crimson and vermilion, a red island amidst a sea in a dull silver, the up-and-down of the waves colliding with the surf spraying mist in his face.  He didn't move.  A sharp gust of wind struck his frame, pale and wirey, but he wouldn't move a tick.  The modest smile he bore never went away.

 

        Her sister had told her, begged her, then demanded her not to go and then, once again, grown angry.  Something desperate drove her.  This time was different, she reasoned.  She reasoned this time her sister was the lonely one, refusing to see the truth when it was presented so blasé in front of her.  The ever-shining lights of the world they were called — what proof was she looking for?  Maybe her sister was still afraid of the dark and after what she tried to do, she could hardly blame the poor mare for it.  

 

        She shifted in the sand, watching the still figure up ahead with apprehension, his eyes always off at the horizon where the sun hung still, his lips always curled in a smile.  Her tail began drifting across the sand, a sense of dread sneaking up on her as it brushed across the spherical shadow behind her.  With each waft, the dark crawled back farther away from her, even slower than it had come.

        She smiled.  

 

        She'd always been more of an artist compared to her sister.  Any rule she came across, any border that wasn't to be crossed, any land not threaded upon, they all seemed like a waste in her eyes, an opportunity that could lead to… anything, really.  That was the beauty of it.  And now that she'd found her beauty, her muse as it were, they told her that she was wrong.  That she shouldn't have, that he didn't belong in their world.  Well, the world was wrong.  

 

        It had to be wrong.  That's what she'd always told him, not to listen to any of them.  She knew better — they knew better together.  In recent times however, she'd begun to reconsider.  Maybe they were right after all.  He deserved better.  

 

        There were times where it grew too hard on her, where the dark almost seemed all-encompassing and the sun above the horizon not there at all. She found that it grew easier to ignore if she pretended it were her sister who tried to scare her.  Her sister just didn't see things the right way.  She raised her ghastly white moon, drove off the dark, and everything was right again.

 

        When she and her still lived in their castle in the Everfree, there'd been a painting in her room.  Beautiful depiction of the night sky, no other like it she'd thought.

 

        She hadn't brought the painting with her to Canterlot and when she had finally realized she'd forgotten her precious ornament, so much time had already passed that nothing but a weed-encrusted and tarnished silver frame remained in her old room, fraying edges of dull-colored canvas curled in its corners.  Immortality, much like arrogance, always seemed to bounce back and forth between blessing and curse.  But she still knew exactly what it had looked like.

 

        Her own version of that painting now hung in Canterlot, in her room, above her bed.  It wasn't the real one, but it was just as beautiful to her (and more accurate, at that).  

 

        So what did it matter?

 

        Her sister's voice tried again, but she stood up straight and shook the sticky sand loose.  With it, her troubles seemed gone too and she stepped over towards him.  The sound of her hooves didn't rise above the sound of the waves, but even as she sat herself down at his side, he didn't move.

 

        ‘Hello, dearest.’

        ‘Hey.’

        She leaned in, finding it hard to stop her lips from forming a wry grimace as she pecked him on the cheek.  ‘Are you cold?’  She almost sounded as worried as her sister.

        ‘A little.’

 

        She shifted in the sand and wrapped her wing around him, her tail again wafting freely across the sand.  Here, holding him, it didn't seem to matter much anymore — the voices, the creeping shadow and the cold.  Her sister, the sun, and the moon.  It all paled here.

        He turned towards her. ‘I missed you.’  

        She had trouble finding that little nook she could rest her head on so comfortably.  Every time she thought she'd found it, it wasn't quite how it was supposed to be.  Some squirming later, she decided that it didn't matter much either.

        ‘I missed you too.’  They both stared at the dimly glowing sun, minutes above the waterline.  ‘But I'm staying this time, dear.’

        ‘Really?’  He stroked her leg when she nodded, his hand resting against her hoof.  

        ‘Are you still cold?’  She felt him shake his head and her mane tickled his chin.

        ‘No, not anymore.’  

 

        They both sighed in contentment, held each other close and watched the unmoving sun.  They had all the time of the world to spend together and that's precisely what she was going to do.  Her sibling came back but as she pecked his cheek a second time, his eyes turned to hers, shining, and he kissed her back.  It became quiet again, really quiet this time.

 

        When all she heard was her own breath, coming in tiny pants, amidst the lush swishing of the sea, relief began to come to her.  With each passing wave,  the water nipped at her hooves, dragging a tiny part of her into the depths.  Her fears, her worries, her sorrows…

 

        Another wave, towering above all others, struck the surf.  They both hid behind her wing as the silvery mist sprayed towards them and they laughed.

 

        They didn't exist here.  

 

        And in their place came a giddiness, a playfulness she barely remembered from her youth, now begging to come out again.  What a waste it had been, raising the moon, shaping the night sky, listening to the commoners squabble over inanities; the eyes of the world constantly on her, ready to jump at her smallest flaw again and again.

 

        All the things magic could do for her instead — for them.  And now, it could — just like that.

 

        ‘Do you want to go somewhere?’  

        She felt him pull his head away from hers.  He blinked rapidly as she turned to look at him and his mouth hung open, eyes on the horizon like always.  ‘It's… amazing…’  

        ‘I—’  She'd always been somewhat of an artist; now, here, the limitations of her night sky seemed overwhelming like never before.  The endless canvas she'd put on display was little more than a footnote on a page of a book in a library.  There were so many things she'd dreamt of, so many wonders she'd wanted to create.  Once, she'd acted out on her desires and it'd gotten her as far away from her goal as she could've been.

        But now, they could go wherever they wanted.  Whatever their minds could come up with would be theirs.

 

        And apparently, that's all they needed to do as well.  She hadn't needed magic at all.  Though she wasn't quite certain what to make of it, either.

 

        He got up and started walking — no mist sprayed his face.  She scrambled upright, hasted herself to his side and they both stopped at the crossroad where crimson turned silver.

        Without the sea's rhythmic rising and falling there wasn't a single sound.  In silence, she stared at the glass display shimmering in a low-hung sun in front of her.

        ʻ…It looks just like home.ʼ  He turned, grinning at her.  ʻI'd almost forgotten what it looked like.  How did you know?ʼ

        She still wasn't quite certain what to make of it.  ʻI-I didn't.ʼ  But he hadn't ears for her, his foot tentatively hanging over the crystallized water.

        Before she could call out his name, he already stood firm on what once had been his home.  He beamed his grin at her, beautiful and wide and arrogant, before he started jumping up and down, stomping his feet.  His paleness'd been replaced with a rosy tint burning on his cheekbones.  ʻCome on, what're you standing around for‽ʼ  He ran off into the streets, towering structures flanking his sides swallowing him whole.

        She shook her head and started running after him.  ‘Hey!  Wait for me!’  Her hooves didn't make a sound, beating down on his lucid past.

 

        Ebony crawled, shadowing over crimson and somewhere a moon was raised — with it, the wordlessly plea for forgiveness yet again.

 

        He'd only gotten a few seconds to get ahead of her, but she found herself having an exceedingly hard time trying to catch up with him.  What she covered in three strides, he crossed in one and then there still was the fact that he actually knew where he was going.  Every time she thought she finally was gaining a bit of ground, he disappeared behind another corner and she was back to zero.  

 

        Despite that, she couldn't stop herself from smiling.  Then giggling.  And eventually, laughing.  The glass city reflected rainbows on her; the entire situation grew too surreal, too beautiful for her not to.

        All the sacrifices she'd made were gone — not just forgotten, but entirely gone — only her childish innocence and giddiness she'd deemed gone a long time ago remaining.  

        What history was there without a past? she thought and she ran faster, lighter on her hooves than she could remember.

 

        She called out his name.  It almost sounded like a song, echoing throughout prisms in a vast array of hues.  He didn't stop running, instead slowing down just enough so that, three turns farther, she was finally at his side.

 

        ‘I can't believe I forgot about this place!’  He finally stopped running, exhausted, his chest rising and falling in grand strokes.  A sheen of sweat coated his face, bloated and red, and in between labored breaths he bellowed a laugh.  ‘This is amazing’ — He squeezed her against him (his scent was of wildflowers and rain, she noted, shivering) and turned around to look at where they'd gotten — ‘I had no idea you could do this.’

 

        At his words, her legs once again threatened to become putty, although that might just be the running.  

        ‘How come you never told me about this place?’

        He shrugged aimlessly, not looking at her.  ‘Had enough to deal with as it was, I guess.  Earth's not that special.’  He cut in as she raised her brow, ‘It doesn't really look like this.’

        ‘But here it does.’  She sought his eyes.  ‘And that's all that matters.’

 

        He raised his arm, pointing behind her.  ‘Come on, there's something I want to show you.’  He swiveled on his heels, laying his arm over her withers as they walked side by side.  She could hardly decide between bouncing, skipping, or being as close to him as she could.

       

        ‘I'm really glad you're staying with me.’

        She felt his hand brush over her wing and shivered again.  ‘Me too.’

 

        They walked through the crystalline construct, not a breeze rolling through the empty streets.  The waves had washed her anew entirely.  She felt younger in this display of perfection, each second at his side serving as her new memories.  She tilted her head, leaning against him and sighed as his hand coarsely began traveling up and down her neck.

        In the corner of her eyes, she saw his, sparkling as they kept shooting left and right.  His panting had ceased, but the rosy tint on his face remained.  She liked how it made him look.

 

        He led her along, taking turns seemingly at random, until they walked underneath a segmented arch — each division shimmering its own color but fading into the next at the edges.  The small road they walked on was a perfectly even silver, but the trees surrounding them left and right, intertwining above their heads all shared the same oily sheen, droplets of water atop a pigeon's wing expanded as far as she could see.

        ‘I came here a long time ago.’  There was a tremble in his voice.

 

        The path widened, leading into a playground like any other — save for the crystalline toys and benches.

 

        ‘Have you ever been on one of these before?’

        She almost couldn't remember.  ‘Of course,’ — She softly breathed a sigh — ‘though it's been some time.’

        Again, that mesmerizing grin of his.  ‘Well…’  The chains didn't rattle in his grip.

        She sat herself down and began to swing, the movements brushing across her features as a cool breeze.  

 

        The voice was her own this time.

        ‘You never told me much about your home.’

        ‘I tried not to think about it too much.’

        ‘Were you ever mad at me?’

        ‘I…  I don't know.’  He pushed her higher.  ‘Did you ever regret it?’

        She'd thought about that a lot.  ‘I know I should and I'm so sorry…’  She tried to look back at him over her shoulder, trying to show her remorse was more than just a word.  ‘But I'm not.  I wouldn't have ever met you otherwise, so no.  You were my perfect mistake, no matter what anypony else says.’

        ‘I might've been mad, I guess.  But I never hated you.  Heck…’  His grip on the chains tightened and he struggled to push her higher, as if no longer wanting to part from her for so much as a second.  She thought she could envision his grin perfectly, enjoying the wind in her face.  ‘Never thought things'd work out the way it did, but I can't be mad at you.’

        She saw the sun, far off in the distance, its light spreading throughout the network of intertwined crystal — a current of color moving across ground and air in jagged patterns.

 

        ‘I just…  would've wanted to let them know, somehow, that they shouldn't worry about me.’

        ‘I'm sorry.’  It was the first thing that came to her, and as she swung up again in silence, she realized she couldn't think of anything better to say as well.

        ‘You don't have to be.’

        Neither of them were convinced by it.

 

        ‘What was it like?  Here, before you—  Before I—’  The words once again conspired against her.

        ‘I forgot most of it…  It's been so long.  Nothing like Equestria anyway.’

        ‘Were you happy?’  He pushed her harder.  

        ‘Happy?  I guess, yeah, for the most part.’

        As beautiful as the construct was, she found the lack of sound unsettling — their conversation interdicted by lulls of clear-ringing nothingness.  ‘The most part…’

        ‘I'd just thought — hoped, I guess — that there'd be something I could've left behind, something that mattered.  And I never got around to that.’  Try as he might, he couldn't find the strength to push her up again.  She heard him sigh as her descent begun.  

        ‘But you mattered elsewhere.’  

        ‘To you I did.’  She thought she would smile as she fell backwards into him, chains still dead silent.  But instead she only shivered as she realized her sister had seemingly given up.  ‘Maybe that's not so bad.’

        ‘I don't know why it was so hard on them.’  She got off the swing, turned around and nuzzled his side.  She hadn't risen high enough to see the sun anymore.

 

        He smiled down on her and started walking farther down the park, the path sloping upward.  ‘They don't see you as a person.  Never saw me as one, either.’  She turned her head up at his — met her own reflection staring in his eyes.  ‘You were their princess, most of all.  I don't know if I was half as much an influence on you as your sister liked to pretend, but you've said so yourself things changed a lot since… me.’

        ‘With what or who I spend my time outside of my duties oughtn't be—’

        ‘But it is.  Either that, or I haven't got the faintest either.’  He slowed down.  ‘I'm not that ugly, am I?’

        She rested her head against his side again.  ‘My beautiful tall, bald monkey.’  Her sincerity didn't halt the two from laughing halfway — their voices combined a whole.

        ‘I guess beautiful and tall balance out bald and monkey.’  He let his hand go through her mane, past her ear and down her neck.  ‘My pretty little princess.’

       

        It stung her, being reminded of what she once was, or had been.  She'd not wanted to consider it herself, but his words made more sense to her than anything had in a long time.  She'd been their princess, most of all.  In older times, somepony to look up to.  Recent days, she was being watched by the masses below her castle, judgment behind a thin veil, or none at all, in their eyes.  One mistake had been enough to make them all turn on her again.  One perfect mistake.

        But in here, it didn't matter if she was a bad princess, or even a bad pony.  He could always teach her how to be a person instead.

 

        He'd taken notice of her silence, trailing her side with the tips of her fingers.  Her reveries took flight as she shivered under his touch.  With a vacant shake of her head, she tried to clear her mind and smiled at him.  

        ‘You ever thought what it'd be like if I'd never showed up?’

        She shook her head, her silence blending into the park's.  ‘Never.’

 

        He came to halt a little before they'd made it to the top of the hill — if it could even be called that — and winced lightly as he slid to the ground against a tree, bark clawing at his skin.  She lied herself down right next to him, tried to curl herself up as tightly as she could, draping her lithe neck over his body and rested her head against his chest.  His arm soon found its way around her, hand resting on her shoulder.

        She slowed her breathing down to match his and fell into the rhythm quickly.  Her head began to weigh heavy again, albeit for entirely different reasons this time.  Eyes closed, the city's silence unbroken as ever, she felt the beat of his heart dully thudding in the distance.  She could barely remember the last time she'd dreamt unbothered — though doubted if she even needed to anymore now that she would no longer go back.  Still, the comfortably annoying pull of sleep on her mind's edges was a welcome one, much like the waves at the beach had been.  At the edge of sleep she was at her most brilliant, she'd found.  It was what had brought her here and that, undoubtedly, was the most brilliant she'd ever been.

        Warmth, silence, and a soothing dark played in on her in equal parts — mind wavering until she heard him, quietly, say her name.  When they'd first met, he'd been soft spoken, almost demure, overwhelmed by it all.  She heard that lack of understanding mirrored here.

        Something cold and distant gripped his voice.  ‘The sun is setting.’

        She opened her eyes and searched the horizon for remnants of her sister's sun where it ought to be, minutes away from the water that'd turned crystal, finding no more than a sliver of orange light ready to meld into the glass display.

        Drowsiness delayed her for a second before all she could do was shake her head.  ‘Why?’  She continued shaking her head, muttering to herself, though he'd no trouble hearing it all.  ‘I won't change my mind.  Just leave us be.’

 

        She stood up straight, watched the last of the day's light slowly sink into nothing.  Her horn shimmered untainted white in her surroundings, darker than she remembered them.  Reaching out with her magic, she walked the path she'd walked a million times and more.  Whether it were the drowsiness again, or the day's events weighing down on her, she didn't know but something tried to hold her back.  Her steps were slow, lethargic as the shadows shot out at her as she walked towards the light of her moon.  Deeper into her reserves, her arcane aura almost becoming its own sun, and she tried to run again, like she had before.  The shadows broke, but shot out at her again, clawing and lashing.  She tried to open her wings so she could fly but had to squeeze them against her sides again as tendrils of cold dark found a new target in them.  Her legs ached and the horizon was still forsaken of color.  The Fear that'd left her since the beach began to whisper again.

        ‘No! Stop! Stop!’  She pulled, like she'd done a million times and more, and drove her moon up high — watched it fade into silver dust as soon as it rose above the glass line.  She stopped running.

        And tried to raise her moon again, oblong tentacles wrapping around her legs.  The pain of her undying light against its all-consuming dark was mutual and neither of them would stop.  She raised dust.  Now, she wanted nothing more than to hear the voice she'd been ignoring.  ‘Stop! Please, please stop!’  No answer came.

        She tried to raise her light in the sky again and again, until she couldn't hold herself up any longer.  Her bindings tugged her to the ground and somewhere far away, she heard a demure, lonely voice.

 

        ‘I'm really cold, Luna.’

 

        The aura fizzled out into the dark, a candlelight amidst a storm as she hasted her way towards him.  The aching in her legs had yet to stop, but she took no notice as she crouched right beside him.  His rosy blush was nowhere to be found.

        ‘I'd’ — He raised his hand to touch her cheek — ‘almost forgotten what it looked like.’  The glass display stained with black all around them.

        She shook her head, tried to blink the tears out of her eyes.  ‘She won't — she can't — not when I'm here.  Nothing can happen to you when I'm here.’  

        He closed his eyes, his hand still firm against her cheek as he smiled.  ‘I wish you were here with me.’

        ‘I am! I'm here!  I'm right here next to you.’

        And she watched him slowly open his eyes again, watched the lights in them slowly fade away all around them.  ‘Are you going to miss me?’  

        She smiled and nodded, bowing down to kiss him, laying simmering silver speckles atop his pale skin.  

        ‘I'm going to miss you too.  For a very long time.’

        ‘I'm not going to—’  She choked on the word, the horrible gross taboo the entire world had to endure but her.  Her mane flinging back and forth, her voice a sobbing mess.  ‘Never.’

        ‘It's so strange.’  His voice was little more than a whisper.  ‘I'd forgotten all about it.  The only thing that was really clear to me was when you were here.’

        ‘I'm—’  Shame weighed down on her like a millstone as she watched the shadows grow all around them.  ‘I'm s-sorry.’

        His hand almost felt like it could go straight through her as he caressed her cheek.  ‘That's okay, I'm not that cold anymore.’  The shadows'd overtaken all but his eyes.  ‘I love you, Luna.’  

        ‘I love you too.’  She was alone now.  ‘I love you too.’  Truly alone.

       

        The shadows coiled around her, a spiteful revenge for what had happened on the beach and she saw then, in an entirely different light — no light at all — that most of all, the shadow in the crimson sand with the silver sea and the glass city had outed her guilt.

        They slithered, covering her whole and then bound her tight.  Breathless, she screamed in the dark of night.  Glass shattered all around her and she fell into the sea, drowning in fear and anxiety and expectations, flailing for the surface turning crystal, where a thousand onlooking eyes watched her fail a first, a second, and a third time.

 

        The beach was silent and dark again.

 

        ⁞

 

        And found herself awake atop sheets in silks and linen to screaming.  It took her far too long to realize that it was her own voice, shrieking desperately in panic.  And her sister holding her close, wings wrapped around her like she'd done thousands and thousands of years ago — her gentle, motherly voice shushing her with whispered reassurances.

        It was too late now.

 

        “It's okay, Luna.  I'm here for you.”

        The aching in her legs came back tenfold, spread throughout her body like a parasite and she felt like throwing up.  She squirmed in her sister's grip, desperately trying to break free.  The more she struggled, the more pain she was in.  With every breath she took, her chest ached more.

        “Sshhh, Luna.”  Celestia pressed her cheek against hers, tried to hold her still.

        She swung her neck and heard the sickly breaking of bones.  She could move again.

 

        “You…” she choked out, a metallic rattle in her throat with every cough.  She didn't feel as if she could leave the bed, but watching her sister gingerly touching the side of her face, lying on the floor made the pain a little duller, more distant.  

        Celestia looked up towards the bed, wincing as she spoke, “I'm so sorry, Luna.”  

        The taste of bile and blood fought for dominance in her mouth.  How she dared to show herself here, she couldn't understand.  “You,” she said.  “It should've been you.”

        “I know you're hurting but—”

        “How‽  How would you know?  You don't care about anything other than yourself!”  The rising anger muted her pain.

        She scrambled back upright, cheek burning hot pink.  “Please, you have to understand.  I couldn't lose you again, Luna.”

        “Then even a foal could see that taking away the only one to make me happy in a long time was…”  A lifetime of reading and she couldn't think of a word atrocious enough to come close to what her sister did.  She slid out of the bed, gritting her teeth as her hooves touched the floor and she walked over to her — even if her sister stood half a head taller, she felt as if Celestia shrank under her gaze.  “Y-you took him…”

        “No!”  She shook her head as desperately as she sounded.  “Luna, please.  He's been gone a long time.  It wasn't right.  We aren't meant to—”

        “We are not meant to what‽  Be happy‽”

        Celestia hasted a small step back.  “You are tempering with things that were locked away for a good reason, little sister.  Entire societies fell into decay by the means you surround yourself with.”

        “And that gives you the right to take him away from me.”

        “Do you have the right to deny him peace?  After all he's been put through” — The accusation went unspoken — “does he not deserve to pass on?”  Celestia sat herself down on the floor, tiny twitches from her bruised cheek.  “What good has this magic ever brought you?”

        “So I should be like you and trap myself in the same vices as you.”  The pain began to ebb away, clearing her mind.

        Celestia tilted her head.  “Which vices would that be?”

        “What good,” she mimicked, “has this world ever done for you?  This kingdom?  These ponies?”  The air became laden with a palpable tension, crackling magic.  “You ask what good my studies have done me?  I can say, if nothing else, that it weren't my studies that exiled me for—”

        “Luna!”  She stood up straight again.  Tears alleviated the burning sensation of her wound.  “Can't you see anything?  That it's exactly the same as before?  We care about you, we love you!  Everypony in Equestria looks up to you, why can't that be good enough?”  

        She only noted now, the moonlight steadily falling in her room.

        “I did what I had to do because you weren't my sister anymore.  What I did that night is still a scar on my heart, but what else was I to do?  What would've come of our kingdom if you had—”

        “Your.  This is your kingdom.  It stopped being ours a long time ago.”

        Celestia shook her head.  “Please, Luna…  Little sister…”

        “There were times, yes,” she continued, unfazed, “where I might have cared for these subjects of yours.  All you have is them and you want for me the same.  But why ought I care for them?  What can they grant me?”  Her eyes rested on her sister's and the nausea returned.  “They grant me no respect.”  

        Celestia sniffled, still shaking her head.

        “They ceased admiring us in times far gone.  Their worship is now only a thing of past.”

        “We are not meant to be wo—”

        “Death shies away from our touch, sister.  Why deny what you are?  Why these charades?  What good have these ponies ever done for you?  What good will they ever do for you?”

        “Luna, dear Luna,” her sister pleaded, “I know what it is like to have your heart scarred, but this is not…  You can not hide away from it.  We all have to cope with our losses, eventually.  We need you, Luna.  You can not lock yourself away.  I need you.”

        She shifted around, looking at the moonlight filtered through stained glass.  “Is it that unfathomable,” she asked, “that I want my past to be more than just memory?  Despite what you say about my exploits in the arcane, I've not felt happiness like that in a long time.”  She turned back to her sister.  “And you took it away from me.  Forever.”

        Her sister was shivering, whimpering.  She couldn't remember seeing her like this before.  Not even on the now second-darkest night of her life.

        “Luna, you have to understand.”   She took a step towards her, but found she dared not come closer than that.  Those ice-blue eyes pierced straight through her.  “I had to—”

        “Destroy everything I hold dear to me,” she said.  “Well, congratulations, sister.  You did.  Now I want you to leave me alone.”

        “Lu—”

        “Leave.  Now.”

        “Pl—”

 

        Horn ablaze with arcane sinew, every forbidden scripture ever read channeled by seething fury.  The sight only brought pain, reminding her of how alone he must be now.  She knew not how but focused the aching in her legs, the nausea, and every other pain she had ever felt through her magic.  She saw the first time they'd met; the mess her room had turned into after the ritual; his laughter; the arrogant, teasing grin; his beautiful eyes; and the shadows that had claimed him, leaving only memories.  Memories and more memories.

        Celestia just barely disappeared out of sight as she let her anger consume all she could see.  She fell to the ground, charred by her own prowess, lying amidst the ashes of her belongings.  The mirror on the wall stained matte black.

        Now, her sister truly could say she had destroyed everything she had ever cared for.

       

        She couldn't be bothered to move as she heard the serpentine voice whispering away her loneliness.  The Fear coiled around her legs, her body, held her to the ground.  

 

        ‘Oh, now what a sight for sore eyes this is.’

 

        “Leave.”  Her voice hadn't even stirred the ashes lying in front of her on the floor.  She felt pathetic.  

 

        ‘I did not come here to mock you.’

 

        “Then why only come when I am at my lowest?”

 

        It tightened its grip, flashing memories of a city under the sea.

 

        ‘I know it haunts you.  It haunts me too small one.  We mourn as one.’

 

        “You don't care about anything other than yourself.  You're just like her.”

 

        ‘If that were true small one I wouldn't be here.  We made a promise to one another.’

 

        She pretended to be alone, which she had little trouble with — tried to recall what his eyes had looked like before it all turned black.  Her sights shattered as it spoke again.

 

        ‘Are you fulfilled then?’

 

        She nodded, holding her tears to herself.

 

        ‘Fulfilled with loss and sorrow and regret, yes.  Our promise halts when you are fulfilled, no sooner.  Hate me if you must but my word cannot be broken small one.’

 

        She shook her head.  “I don't hate” — She couldn't remember anything but black — “I don't hate you.”

 

        It was almost as if it laughed.  

 

        ‘Your soul's reflection, it isn't what it used to be.’  

 

        The Fear slithered over her, but she didn't shiver.  She felt it leave her as it crawled over her legs.  Opening her eyes, she saw it pooling together in front of her.  

 

        ‘Hate, how it must weigh on you.  For all the pain you've caused and endured.’

 

        Again, she shook her head.

 

        ‘Then it seems you are not as small as you once were.’

 

        “There is nothing that will drive me there again,” she said.  “So you can go.  Go away and leave me—”

 

        ‘Such narrow lines separate us.  Why are we fighting when I'm just like you?’

 

        It reached out and coiled around her horn.

 

        ⁞

 

        He'd turned ashen, his skin of paper and his glass bones shimmering in the spray of silver mist.

        Despite that, she told herself he was fine and she smiled back at him, hoping he didn't see how her tail had begun drifting back and forth over the sand of the dreamscape.  “Why are you smiling?” she asked him.

        She knew the answer already.  Even after so many times, it was still as pleasant to hear as it was the first time.  “Because you are here now,” he said, the same initial enthusiasm in his voice.  Her tail drifted across the beach, drawing patterns.  “And everything is always alright when you are here.”  

        It didn't matter what had struck that first spark.  Even now, she could see that brilliant shine in his eyes when he looked at her.  She'd been arrogant enough to think that she could claim him for herself.  And it'd been the greatest moment of her life when she turned out to be right.

        Her tail lied still, surrounded by tiny trails of concentric ellipses.

 

        ⁞

 

        Hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

 

        ‘You've sacrificed so much now.’

 

        Just like her sister, she shook her head, flinging tears and mane.  “Nothing you offer me will bring him back so just go away.  Go away.”

 

        She felt its grotesque touch and the pain in her cheek vanished.

 

        ‘The words I've spoken have always been true and my aid sincere.  I am not the one to blame for your recklessness.  You've grown wiser in my absence.’

 

        “Then why should I need your help?”

 

        Now, it undoubtedly was laughing.  Finally she understood what others found so repulsive about arrogance.

       

        ‘If you need me, I can always be found.’  

 

        It slithered up the wall, vanishing into the mirror.

 

 

        Once the shivering its touch had caused seized to be, she stood straight, realizing only now she'd stayed on the floor even after it'd released its bindings.  Ash, tiny clumps of grey dust held together by regret, mottled her coat and mane.  Her entire room lay in ruins, save for the mirror on the wall that had somehow survived her anger.  She looked around and sighed as she watched flakes of charred canvas chipping loose, floating down to the ground, from a distorted silver frame.  She stepped closer to the mirror and wiped the black stains off with her hoof.  The reflected eyes stared back at her with a foreign edge in them.  

 

        She thought of herself, she thought of God the moon.

 

        ▪     ▪     ▪