"He's breathing!"
...
…
…
"Nurse! …..Grab me two….. Oxygen!"
…
…
…
"Hurry, I need oxygen!"
…
…
…
Patrick's eyelids budged ever so slightly.
He drifted in and out of reality. One moment, he was in the future, surrounded by ridiculous talking ponies with flamboyant personalities.
The next moment, he was covered in white sheets, looking down at his boots, his jacket and pants, road-rashed and bloodstained, while his lungs forced air in and out of his chest. An IV tube was hooked into his arm, pumping a strangely colored substance into it.
It was a human hospital. With human doctors and human nurses. Several medical staff were crowded around Patrick, one of them giving Patrick oxygen out of a clear facemask while he slumped over in the hospital bed.
"Better?" the doctor asked.
"Uh-huh," Patrick managed to choke out anti-climatically.
"We thought you'd never wake up!" a nurse rambled on in disbelief.
Patrick could barely even keep himself from fainting.
"What… How…. What..." Patrick panted, before the doctor gave him more oxygen.
"You took a nasty spill on that motorcycle, young man," the nurse, sporting a heavy southern accent, informed him.
Patrick stared around in confusion, questioning the reality he was in. Was none of that real? Did none of it even happen?
This was logical, for him to go into a coma and create his own reality or some such, but why ponies? Why "Equestria?" He never even knew what that was to begin with, he never had a burning passion for ponies in his subconscious that would bring him to create that world in a coma. Something was off.
"Uh, d-doctor?" Patrick asked.
The doctor's back was turned, and he was busily typing down information onto a laptop nearby. Several heartbeat monitors beeped in rhythm from rooms adjacent to him.
"Yes, what can I do for you?"
"Um, what year is it?"
The doctor spun around, his face had changed from a generic, Caucasian male, to the gnarled, burnt face of his best friend.
On Jose's head was a standard-issue MICH combat helmet, with a burnt and torn desert-ACU sleeve. What frightened Patrick the most though was not his cracked, burned, and lifeless skin, but the fact he was missing an eye.
"No…" Patrick, still connected to the IV retreated out of the bed in fear.
"You…" Patrick pointed his finger at Jose's walking corpse. "You died! I saw you die!"
He backed himself against the wall, inching towards the door, but Jose blocked his path.
"Just let me go, man! I just want out of all this!" he pleaded.
"I wish it was that easy," Jose said, reaching behind his back. He extended his arm out, aiming a pistol directly at Patrick's head.
"I'm really sorry about this."
"NO!"
BANG
Black.
BANG!
Twilight shuddered after she released that ball of magic; a simple, yet effective self-defense spell. It hurled toward Patrick and struck, him, knocking him to the floor as he cried out in pain. Her eyes shot over to Celestia, fearing the worst. But she remained unscathed, still standing as her mane flowed back and forth.
She was alive.
A cold, hard marble floor pressed up against Patrick's face. He lay flat on the ground, his skin crawling in agony. He ached, he bled, and he burned. Oh, how he burned. He remembered pulling the trigger, and then everything cut to black. Twilight was definitely not bluffing earlier, he realized.
Before Patrick realized what he did, it was too late. A burning rage fueled by his desire for revenge had taken over him, and pulled the trigger. His next move would be to blow his own head off in front of dozens of innocent bystanders. That was how he was going to be remembered, that was his destiny.
The Glock 23 recoiled in his tight grip, smoke lazily drifted out of the muzzle of a handgun in desperate need of a good cleaning and oiling. Patrick's eyes remained forward, locked with the bitch that was responsible for who he was today. Patrick did not have the mindset of a murderer. He has never desired to end anyone's life… Until today. He was ready to see Celestia drop.
The bullet stopped in midair; smashing into a transparent, pink force field that suddenly encased the air around Celestia. It was then that he could see Celestia's horn glow very faintly, almost unnoticeably.
As soon as that round left the barrel, Twilight had attacked him. He could smell his flesh burn, the same smell when he first arrived here.
He looked up, seeing the white alicorn staring down at him. Twilight's horn had ceased glowing, and dozens of guards were surrounding him, getting ready to tackle him while still on the ground.
Patrick shot her. He knew he did. He aimed directly at her forehead and pulled the trigger. But there was no wound. He even picked out the shell on the floor nearby. The weapon DID fire, there was no denying that.
And his trusty, loyal Glock 23 remained in his loose grip, as dozens of unicorn and pegasi guards converged on him, leaving Patrick with only a split second to decide, and he may not get a second chance.
Commit suicide and spare himself the justice for his crime, or keep shooting?
Sometimes, you just have to keep it real.
Patrick squeezed the trigger again, another blast echoing around the throne room. His entire body seized up as unicorn magic began to take hold over him.
BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG
Patrick desperately tried to hit Princess Celestia with a round, as his body was succumbing to the grip of unicorn magic. Several spent shells clanged to the floor, rolling away.
A transparent, pink bubble rippled as each round hit it, stopping it in midair several feet from the princess. The rounds smashed into the force field, powered by alicorn magic, causing deep cracks to run down the points of impact. The result was similar to shooting a wall made of bulletproof glass.
He popped off rounds wildly, but it was clear that he was not going to be able to get his revenge. Time for Plan B.
As he hit the ground again, Patrick fought to angle the weapon so it pointed through his head. He shrank back in horror when none of his limbs were responding, it felt as if an invisible force was holding his arms and legs still.
His weapon was ripped from his hands and went sliding across the floor out of reach.
"Grab him!" a pair of Royal Guards tackled the human assassin, flipping him over onto his belly, taking no care to avoid making his injuries any worse than they already were.
Patrick's head was slammed to the ground, making him dizzy for a few moments. Celestia and Luna's forms were getting further and further away. He blinked, and found himself being dragged by several armor-clad pegasi.
It wasn't the fact that the ponies that saved his life just watched him try (And fail) to kill their beloved princess that really hit home, it was the expression on Celestia's face. It was unchanged since he pulled the weapon on her in the first place. Bland, emotionless, yet firm and in control, with a hint of sorrow. She stared into his eyes as he was dragged from the throne room.
Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy were huddling together, Pinkie's mane deflated and her eyes squeezed shut. It was the one time she didn't have a bubbly remark to try and lighten up the situation. Murder was almost unheard of in most ponies' lives. Applejack and Rarity simply stood in awe.
"Wait!" Rainbow Dash tried to get to Patrick, but several Pegasi Guards held her down.
"Let me go! Just wait a second!" Rainbow Dash growled, but her struggle was in vain.
Twilight Sparkle's horn gradually grew dimmer, her legs shaking in shock of what just happened. She had the potential to kill Patrick, but not the will. She had held back, and merely disabled him. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw Patrick drop to the ground after attacking him with a self-defense spell, one she had hoped she'd never need to use.
She couldn't help but feel partly responsible. She and her friends had saved his life, but it was she that brought Patrick to Canterlot. And the strange creature from the past that she had opened her home to could have killed any of them at any time. Spike was right, he was dangerous. Patrick was a soldier, trained in the art of human warfare, with an unstable mind.
Although she was relieved that no blood had been spilled, that still left her with the thought of what was to become of Patrick. Canterlot only executed those guilty of only the most serious of offences, and attempted assassination of the royalty was one of them.
But Patrick's situation was a bit different. He had a right to be mad at Celestia. She ruined his life, how could he not be angry?
But Celestia only did it for the greater good of the world. Patrick played a part in Celestia's plan to finally get rid of the Nightmare and protect Equestria. Maybe, if Patrick just showed a little remorse, everything would work-
"I'll fucking kill you, you bitch!"
-…Out.
"I swear!"Patrick screamed at the top of his lungs as the Royal Guard subdued and dragged him out of the throne room. "The first opportunity I get, you're gonna get to go tell my friends why you murdered them in person! I. WILL. FUCKING. KILL YOU!"
The Royal Guard threw Patrick in a cell, located at the far end of Canterlot Castle's dungeon. The cold, stone floor scraped his arms as he tried to catch himself.
The cell itself was barely ten feet wide. It featured a small, barred window, and a wooden mattress with a blanket and pillow for a bed. A foul-smelling hole in the corner was undoubtedly the restroom. The front wall consisted completely of iron bars. A gate, featuring a gigantic, intimidating lock, allowed for access in and out of his new prison.
Two unicorn guards stood over him, watching his every move. They appeared to be waiting for somepony.
"Aren't you going to read me my rights?" Patrick exhaled weakly.
"Shut up!" One of the guards kicked him in the ribs. Patrick laughed the pain out, succeeding in pissing off the guards even more. Cops never liked him in the past, and they sure as hell didn't like him in the future.
Before the guards could deliver another blow, an important-looking pegasi guard strolled into the cell. His golden armor was different than that of the other guards'. His headdress featured a red thistle, similar to Roman soldier's helmet, along with more elegant patterns engraved into his helmet and chest plates.
"Well, well, well," the guard spat. "Son, you just buried yourself."
"Good," Patrick coughed. "I was going to kill myself, but you guys were too fast."
"Oh, we wouldn't want to send you off without a little of our hospitality, eh boys?" the guard chuckled to his comrades.
"Oh, you know it, lieutenant," the unicorn that kicked Patrick replied. "After you."
"So, I don't get the right to a fair trial?"
Patrick's response was a hoof to the side of his head.
They took turns beating him, his hands tied behind his back. Normally, Patrick would be crying out in pain and trying to squirm away. But he had lost the will. They were going to beat him to death for their own amusement, and he was just going to let them.
Patrick felt like a bag of meat. Ever since he got here, he's been a punching bag for Mother Nature, a manticore, and a smug colt whose name was currently second on his "shoot to kill" list, all at the expense of Celestia herself. Twilight's self-defense spell didn't help, either. How could he go through so much physical trauma and still be alive?
Although, he was rather used to having the crap beaten out of him by now. With everything that had happened, his will was completely and utterly broken. Patrick was ready to die.
"Not even going up a fight?" the lieutenant pulled Patrick to his feet as a crowd of guards began cheering him on. "Come on then, you still got two legs!"
Patrick deliriously swayed back in forth, blood dribbling from his nose and pooling on his chin. The wound kept closed by the stitches in his chest was beginning to trickle a warm fluid, while fresh wounds and burns prevented him from striking out.
"Sorry, Nurse Redheart," Patrick thought.
The guard reeled back, ready to buck Patrick square in the jaw. Patrick closed his eyes, waiting for the impact.
"Say good-bye to your teeth!"the guard shouted. Patrick held his breath and braced himself.
The guards crowding inside and outside the cell were cheering loudly as ever, when a powerful, all encompassing voice interrupted them.
"ENOUGH!"
Everypony spun around. A white alicorn stood just outside the cell, watching the scene her guards put on. The guard currently beating Patrick froze, his hind legs in mid-air barely a foot from Patrick's face.
"I wouldn't expect this from one of my lieutenants," Celestia glared at the important-looking Pegasus.
"Your highness!" he stammered. "This… This isn't what it looks like. We were merely-"
"I'd like to speak with the prisoner alone," Celestia interrupted.
A few moments went by, and the guards simply stared at each other.
"That means now."
"But, your highness," the lieutenant argued. "Did he not just attempt to assassinate you?"
"I wish to speak with the prisoner alone. Please exit the dungeon. Now," Celestia's tone became firm.
"Of course, my apologies, uh, your royal, um…" The lieutenant quickly made his way out of the cell as the other guards scurried away behind him, leaving only Celestia and Patrick present.
Celestia watched as the human she was so familiar with could barely keep his balance. If she hadn't intervened, they surely would have beaten him to death. And there was still hope yet, even if he did know the truth. He just needed to trust her.
"Patrick, I'm so sorry," she spoke gently. "I never meant for any of this to happen."
Patrick said nothing, his hands still tied. He awkwardly braced his back against the wall and eased himself down, looking at the shoes Rarity had painstakingly made for him.
"I don't blame you for wanting to kill me," Celestia said. "I just wish you could understand. I wish I could tell you."
Patrick still remained silent, determined not to say a single word to her. The only revenge he could get at the moment was making her feel terrible about what she did. And it seemed the more she talked, the worse she felt.
"I just want you to know how truly sorry I am," Celestia broke eye contact. She frowned, still unable to get a reaction out of Patrick.
"Do you know why my student, Twilight Sparkle, has been studying friendship since the Nightmare Moon incident?"
Patrick made no attempt to acknowledge her.
"Because, even after it took a thousand years to find you, and cast the spells necessary to change your life, I still tried to find a way to use the Elements at their full capacity, without needing you and allowing you to live your life."
"What was my life like if you hadn't intervened?" Patrick suddenly spoke up.
This was a question she fully well knew the answer to, but would probably regret answering.
"Well," Celestia bit her lip. "You grew up. You had two, loving parents. You graduated at the top of your class. You studied law, and became quite wealthy. You married, you had a beautiful, baby girl. And all the while, you had a motorcycle in your garage since you could hold a driver's license."
Patrick continued to look at the floor.
"You and your family moved to California. San Diego, to be exact. You bought your parents a house on the beach, like they'd always dreamed of. You meant the world to so many people, Patrick."
"That hardly makes me feel any better," Patrick grumbled.
Celestia's mane rippled as she stepped closer to Patrick.
"I'm assuming you read the articles in the Artifact Room, from the New York Times?"
Patrick's silence could only mean, "yes."
"You died of direct exposure to nuclear radiation, among millions of others. You were forty-eight years old."
"And how do you expect me to kill the 'Nightmare' when I don't even know what it really is? If you can change the past, then why don't you save my people? Why don't you just change the past so that this 'Nightmare' doesn't even exist?"
"Because," Celestia sighed. "I have taken a thousand years to explore every option, you were the only one that wouldn't prevent Equestria from existing. If I saved humanity, then Equestria would not exist."
"Oh, I get it," Patrick said belittlingly, realizing Celestia had succeeded in getting him to talk. "You won't save my people, but you want me to save yours."
He just needed to remain quiet, and then hang himself with his shoelaces as soon as she left. The guards may have searched him for any other concealed weapons, but they left all his clothing on. Patrick imagined the Royal Guard when they found him hanging from the ceiling. They'd probably try to bust him open like a Piñata.
"It's… The truth," Celestia actually felt herself intimidated by the human for a moment. Only for a moment.
"I don't really give a fuck," Patrick growled, tending his bloody nose. He just wasn't able to stay silent.
"You ruined my life. You made my father beat me. You made him beat my mom for so long, she ended up in the mental hospital, and he ended up in jail for domestic violence. You made me kill people. And you killed my best friends, so you could save your world and still let mine die, all at my expense."
"I can't save humanity, Patrick," Celestia said.
"Only you can," she wanted to say. If only it were that easy.
"The Nightmare has prevented me from doing so. While I was able to manipulate certain events in the past, in your past, without it noticing, it could have stopped me at any time."
"Fuck you," Patrick turned his back to Celestia. "Just leave me alone."
Celestia sat down next to him. She was so close, her flowing mane brushed up against him several times.
Patrick wouldn't even look at her. If his hands weren't tied, and if he weren't beaten to a bloody pulp for the fifth time this week, he'd get up and strangle the fuck out of her, knowing full well she would just stop him with another magic force field or some other spell.
She bent her head down, her horn just barely poking Patrick in the chest. A green light emanated from her horn, and Patrick's body relaxed.
It felt like he was sleeping, while wide-awake. There were no words Patrick could describe for the feeling that came over him. It was… Health.
Celestia cast a simple healing spell. While Twilight and several other unicorns had tried, healing spells did not seem to work on humans. Some spells simply had no effect on them. It was as if they had their own sense of magic that blocked certain sources. Celestia spent centuries trying to study human magic, but there were no artifacts that held the answers. Humanity had long forgotten its own sense of magic by the time Patrick existed, as well. Whatever magic a select few still knew how to use at that time was referred to as "voodoo" or "Satan worship."
Like human magic, alicorn magic was different, as well. It was all encompassing, and able to rise against any other source, except that of another alicorn, or human. Celestia drew the health back into Patrick's battered human body as he watched himself heal in disbelief.
The stitches in Patrick's chest undid themselves, as the wound closed and new skin materialized before his very eyes. His burns turned from wilted, red skin, to his healthy skin tone.
Each and every scrape, burn, wound, even the tapeworm Patrick didn't even know he had, was cleansed from his system. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, he was healthy. He was able bodied. He could walk. He could run. He could jump. He could fight.
Celestia used her magic to undo the rope tying his hands behind his back. Patrick ran a hand down his arm, feeling silky smooth skin, instead of rough, dead skin tissue.
"I'm," Celestia stuttered. "I'm sorry."
Patrick squeezed his hands open and shut in shock, feeling able-bodied strength (That he would never take for granted ever again.) return to him so quickly. Nothing ached, nothing was sore. It was an odd feeling to be so healthy after becoming so used to being injured.
Celestia exited the cell, the gate closing behind her.
"I will… Be back to check on you."
Patrick looked away. Healing the wounds she caused in the first place was not going to make him turn into Pinkie Pie for her.
"We need you, Patrick. Equestria needs you."
Patrick rolled his eyes and brushed her off. As soon as he heard the main gate to the dungeon close, he rose to his feet, stretching his limbs and pacing around the small cell.
There was one urge in his mind that rang louder than his desire for revenge or suicide: He wanted to run. He wanted to run as fast as he could, for as long as he could. Patrick loved to run, he loved speed, which is what drew him to motorcycles in the first place.
But he was cramped into a cell where he could simply stand up and touch the ceiling. Thankfully, he had some privacy at the moment, since Celestia obviously didn't trust her guards around him after they displayed such hostility.
Patrick looked down at his shoes, the laces tied in neat bows. They had gone from a clean black to a dark, earthy tan from running around in the Everfree Forest the other night. He slowly untied the laces, and began stripping them off his shoes.
"Patrick!"
Rainbow Dash's face popped up from behind the bars of the small window.
"Oh… It's you," Patrick couldn't even look her in the eye, feeling too ashamed. "Just leave me alone."
"No, listen to me!" Rainbow Dash beat her wings to keep herself level with the cell's window.
"You have every right to be mad, I wouldn't have stood for that either after what she did to your friends, your parents and your life! I don't care what they're saying about the Nightmare, that wasn't right and she knows it!"
Now that Patrick had calmed down, and Celestia had healed him, he found it easier to think clearly.
"She had her reasons, she just wants to save the world. Your world, anyway."
"I know, Twilight told me about the newspaper article she read in that room you guys found," Rainbow Dash replied. "She's a wreck right now, by the way."
"Aren't you the element of loyalty or something? Why would you go against your princess for me?"
"I may be the element of loyalty," she crossed her arms in mid air. "But I'm not going to be loyal to a princess that totally ruined my friend's life!"
"So, what are you gonna' do about it?" Patrick challenged her.
"I-" Rainbow Dash stammered. "I'm bustin' you out, that's what I'm gonna' do about it!"
"Thanks," Patrick shook his head, and sat down on the hard, wooden mattress that was to be his bed. "But I don't really think I have it in me go through all the effort to escape. Where am I supposed to go? If the princess can find me in the past, she can surely find me here."
"I bet Twilight knows how to block a locater spell," she said.
"I seriously doubt she's going to want to help me after I just tried to kill her mentor," Patrick replied.
"Just forget about me, unless you want to watch me hang myself," Patrick finished undoing his shoelaces, doubling them up to improve their strength.
"You might want to leave."
"WHAT?" Rainbow Dash gasped. "No, don't do that. Please, I can bust you out. I'll get you out of here in ten seconds flat, honest!"
"I'm sorry," Patrick sighed. "This is all just too much for me."
"Wait!" Rainbow Dash frantically tried to fight her way into the cell. She had to talk him out of it. Otherwise he was going to commit suicide right in front of her.
"What would your friends think about this?"
Patrick froze.
He immediately dropped his crude means of self-inflicted death and sat criss-cross on the floor.
"What are you doing?" Rainbow Dash asked.
"I'm going to ask them."
"Are you going to meditate?" Rainbow Dash turned her head.
Patrick closed his eyes and remained silent, trying to remember what Zecora taught him about meditation.
"Uh, cool, you do that," she said, just glad he wasn't about to wring his own neck. "I'll be back soon. I'm getting you out of here!"
Patrick nodded to acknowledge her, his eyes still shut. Rainbow Dash took off. She had much to do, and very little time.
It wasn't easy, but Patrick pushed the anger out of his mind, allowing him to think unbiased thoughts about his situation. For the first time since hearing what Celestia was responsible for, he actually considered helping her.
Quickly, though, he repressed that thought. She wouldn't save his people, why should he save hers?
She claims that she can't save humanity, but that Patrick can save ponykind. There was still so much that was unclear, and she still hid so much from him, he could tell. If she would just give it to him straight, then maybe it he would feel more inclined to put aside his differences and help her.
As clear thoughts, completely void of anger finally circulated in his mind, he felt at peace. And a familiar presence entered his mind, just what he was hoping for.
A conscious thought that was definitely not Patrick sat in the middle of his mind, eagerly waiting for him.
Instead of taking the time to examine the thought and try to find out what it was, he welcomed it. Patrick didn't hesitate this time to try to communicate with the thought, in the form of a familiar voice, that was not his own.
"Okay," Patrick called out to the thought. "I know I fucked up."
"Yeah," a familiar voice agreed with him. "Of all the stupid things I've seen you do, that was the icing on the cake."
"How can you say that?" Patrick asked. "She murdered you! Wouldn't you be the least bit angry, too?"
"We've had thousands of years to get over it, Pat," the voice answered.
"So, you haven't ever felt like haunting her, or throwing pots and pans at her head, or… Something?" Patrick asked.
"Okay," the voice sighed, sounding a bit irritated with him now. "Forget everything you know about ghosts, heaven, hell, the devil, and the afterlife in general. It doesn't work like that."
"So, how does it work?" Patrick said. "How am I even able to talk to you?"
"There isn't enough time in the world for me to explain it to you. You'll find out, eventually. Everyone does. It's just something you have to experience for yourself."
"Let's just leave it at that, then," Patrick replied.
"I couldn't agree more."
"Well, I tried to kill their princess. After what she did to me, to you…"
"She has good intentions," the voice said.
"I know. But I just don't have the will. I can't help her. I just can't."
"Listen," the voice paused dramatically. "If you knew what was at stake, you would understand each and every move that Celestia made."
The familiar voice calling Celestia by name sounded a little peculiar.
"How much do you know?" Patrick asked.
"Enough to know that you should stop being such an asshole, and help them. Regardless of what Celestia did to you, your life, and us. There are some things you're better off just not knowing."
"Like what?"
"I can't tell you."
"You'll be telling me anyway in a few minutes when I hang myself."
"If you do that, then every human being that ever existed is going to kick your ass when you get here. And mine, because I didn't do my job."
"What?"
"Think about it. You're the last surviving human being. You're talking to someone who died thousands of years ago. Where do you think the rest went?"
"…Right," Patrick did the math. "Okay, I get it. But, what's your job?"
"To guide you," the voice spoke softly.
Patrick fell silent at this.
"Basically," the voice said. "You have to have the right motives for everything to work. You have to make this decision completely on your own, and it has to be a selfless, unbiased one."
"… Please, just tell me straight-up."
"Nope. I can't influence any choice you're supposed to make."
"Of course," Patrick muttered.
"Remember, no matter where you go or what happens, we're right behind you. Whenever you need me, you know how to reach me."
"Is it going to be a good day?" Patrick asked.
"Oh yeah," the voice answered.
"It's gonna be a good fucking day."
A chaotic situation was beginning to unfold in Canterlot Castle, the very one Celestia had tried to prevent. Someone who had lost it all had given up, and didn't even care to live anymore. Much to the delight of an ominous presence, watching from a safe distance.
The Nightmare, as it was known, was given only one purpose. It was those who came before that gave it that purpose, and that was to balance the power of two other alicorns it "supposedly" shared Equestria's reign with.
After those who came before did their job, they abandoned this Earth. They made one, colossal mistake, however.
They gave "The Nightmare" freewill.
Just as they did to the royal sisters responsible for taking care of the damaged sun and moon, the altered orbit, all caused by a race that destroyed their own world.
True, the Nightmare had once been an Alicorn, but it had abandoned that inferior race long ago. It could still be considered one, it could be considered anything, for that matter. The Nightmare could be whatever it wanted, whenever it wanted. It is for that reason the relationship between the two royal sisters and the Nightmare had always been tense.
Almost a millennia ago, a certain alicorn was moping about the Everfree forest, one of the only places the Nightmare could move undetected by that blasted Celestia, the only pony that could pose a threat.
"I can give you what it is that you desire," the Nightmare whispered in Luna's ear. "She will never respect you, she will always treat you like a child. Equestria will never love the night like they love the day. You will always be second to her. But I can change that."
"And what is it that you request of me?" Luna, neck bent, stared into her eyes in the reflection of a pond.
"Why, I would like nothing more than to see you get the respect and adoration your night deserves. All I ask… Is that we become a bit… Closer."
Chills ran down Luna's spine, as a dark, foreboding presence entered her mind. Still staring into her own eyes as the water danced back and forth, they changed from a royal blue, to a bright, glowing turquoise, the irises reminding her of a dragon's pupils. If Luna's own jealousy wouldn't have gotten to her, she could have destroyed the Nightmare right then and right there. She would not remember this, as the nightmare slowly took over, inheriting Luna's desires and manipulating them to its own.
And, as Nightmare Moon, she almost took over Equestria. Luna and the Nightmare were one and the same, with the Nightmare in control. And there was no magic powerful enough to separate them.
Except, of course, the Elements of Harmony.
Those who came before may have made the Nightmare more powerful, but they gave the royal sisters a refuge that would allow them to banish the Nightmare in the event it did turn evil, almost like a time-out. But that's all it was: Temporary.
And while the Elements of Harmony could, when used by Celestia or Luna, banish the Nightmare with relative ease, neither of them had authoritative magic strong enough to "kill" the Nightmare.
And this time was different. The Nightmare had Luna, and Celestia surely wouldn't banish her own sister. She would save her sister and allow the Nightmare to go free, end their lives, and take over.
But she did. And the Nightmare spent a thousand years, still controlling its royal host, full of jealousy, contempt, and everlasting sorrow. The stars would aid in her escape soon enough, and give the Nightmare plenty of time to plan.
Celestia obviously did that out of desperation. Without the Nightmare's presence to interfere, she was free to look anywhere for a solution, even a different time, even without her sister.
The Nightmare had planned for this, sacrificing a bit of its magic that would linger behind. It prolonged its escape, but it undoubtedly prevented its certain demise upon return.
By theoretically "blurring" the timeline; an act of desperation just before banishment; the Nightmare was able to eliminate the possibility that Celestia would reach those who came before. It would take Celestia more than a thousand years to cast the spell to even contact them, and the Nightmare would surely be back by then. Therefore, she needed to look elsewhere.
After being "defeated" by the Elements of Harmony for second time, in this instance powered by the magic of friendship, the Nightmare fled.
It fled Celestia's wrath, knowing very well it could be banished again at any moment, no matter how powerful the Nightmare was made out to be.
After spending months in hiding, lying dormant, yet ever present, the Nightmare happened upon something that would have made it grin ear to ear, had it had a face at the time. A very peculiar human had found its way to Equestria; injured, broken, and hopelessly lost.
The Nightmare was suspicious that Celestia had something to do with this. There had to be a divine reason behind it. But if it revealed itself again, only to find Celestia was not intervening, and destroyed this human, it risked banishment.
However, maybe it wouldn't need him, after all. Whilst lurking in the Everfree forest, it happened upon something much more useful: A long-forgotten testament of human warfare.
It was not uncommon to find these ancient, "human" ruins all about Equestria. But this one was different. Quite different.
It was unmistakably a military complex.
After thousands of years, this incredibly fortified structure was entombed by the Earth's surface. It was an architectural masterpiece of stone, concrete, and steel. Almost everything had been destroyed since humanity's end, but this structure was designed to last. Designed to withstand time, it protected the world from its dangerous contents: Weaponry leftover from a devastating war.
Dozens of dead rats, insects, and other creatures struggling for life that had been so unfortunate as to stumble upon this complex littered the floors, rooms, and corridors. Not even moss, nor ivy, nor roots, nor vines could grow in this dark labyrinth of crumbling tunnels and long, open spaces.
There was a certain poison in the air here, which did not affect the Nightmare in its current form. But there was a symbol that the Nightmare had grown to like very much, when discovering dozens of rooms with these symbols plastered everywhere. Hundreds of containers, shaped in long, metal rods, some even glowing, had been preserved by those who designed them, in desperation that they would not cause harm for any future life that managed to survive the aftermath of their war when they were unable to dispose of them.
Warnings, posted in more than one language, were plastered all across this structure, indicating what these substances were, what they did, and what they were intended for. All featured three triangles, arranged in a peculiar fashion around a single, round dot, and a common word.
RADIATION