LEGEND OF THE GODDESSES
Crystal Mountains, 700 years ago
Celestia flew over a mountain trail, only a few feet off the ground to make sure she didn't lose the path, but flying anyway to keep her speed up, struggling against the whipping winds and snow.
Soon, she found what she was looking for: the trail ended in a huge gate two stories high, leading directly into the mountain. It was a pair of massive double doors made of emerald and jade, like a sideways, gaping maw—the doors were carved to look like blunt teeth, while long and hooked teeth protruded from the top and bottom.
"At last," she said, setting on the ground in front of the doors. "I've found them at last."
Guess how long I've known the exact location of this entrance, Discord said inside her head. Go on, guess.
"Shut up, Discord," she grumbled. She stepped forward and prepared to open the gates.
He laughed. Hohoho, really? No carefully-outlined battled strategy? No tortured ponderings about whether this is the right thing to do?
"No. I'm just going in."
Her magic aura ripped the doors open and she stepped into the underground lair. The inhabitants froze in shock, staring up at her. All of them were ponies wrapped in pale blue cloaks that concealed every detail of their bodies; their hooves were hidden below the robes, and they wore tightly-sewn masks with bulging semi-transparent eye holes.
They and Celestia stared each other down for a few seconds, before one managed a reaction.
"Ta Tasc Iore!" the pony barked to the others.
"A Laz Ra Qui!" another agreed.
Several of them ran away, including the first one who had spoken, while five others stayed to fight. It was clear from their skintight hoods that none of them were unicorns, but little orbs of colored light started swirling around their heads.
Celestia sent out small electric shocks meant to painlessly disable them, but the little bolts bounced off the cloth as if it was armor.
Frowning deeply, Celestia concentrated harder. Numerous pulses of light shot forth from her horn, targeting each cultist over and over, but these too were deflected by their robes, even as she strained to make them more and more powerful.
This barrage lasted only a few short seconds before the cultists pooled their power and created a vaguely anchor-shaped mass of energy and swung it in an arc at Celestia's head; she deflected it with a sparking flourish of her horn, and immediately retaliated with a dozen swirling blades of golden fire.
A huge white hand materialized in front of the enemies, raising its palm to protect them. Contact with the blades made the hand shimmer and become partially transparent, but it was clear to Celestia that she would not break it in time, for she could already sense their odd magic building up for a counterattack. Fluidly, each fiery blade turned into a dome-shaped shield, and they formed a phalanx around her just in time to block a barrage of barbed hooks made of pink flame.
Celestia peered out from behind the shields, only to quickly duck behind them again when she saw another onslaught, this one of silvery hammers, materializing and being fired at her from each individual cultist, dissipating when they hit her shields.
This failed tactic didn't last very long; with a few wordless nods, the group once again combined their magic to create another silver hammer, this one the size of a building. As it shot toward Celestia, she frantically hurled an entire wall of white light back at it, losing her shields as she did so. The wall disintegrated the hammer and passed harmlessly through the robed figured.
Increasingly frustrated, Celestia threw out everything she could think of: a massive spear that shot forward at an impossible speed, a stone-shattering thunderclap, a swirl of pure-white chains, but none of them touched her foes.
In her intense concentration, it took her a moment to realize that the cultists too were throwing everything they had at her: a pulse rippled along the ground, passing over her; ribbons of light that should have been shredding her very flesh were similarly going right through her to no effect. She could detect one cultists attempting to telekinetically lift her off the ground, but she prevented herself from being moved without any effort. Two of them working together were attempting to grasp at her with ethereal red claws, and when that didn't work their frustration transformed the claws into huge crushing squares of force which attempted to crush Celestia's head between them, but evaporated as soon as they made contact with her.
For the third time, the five of them cast a spell as one, creating a whirlwind of grasping flames. Celestia ignored it, confident at this point that any spell this group could cast would be harmlessly deflected, and focused on building up energy at the tip of her horn, enough to unleash a scythe blade of pure light that could hack through all five necks at once—and so she did, only for it to pass through them without doing any harm.
Is it just me, or is this taking forever and nothing actually happening? Discord remarked.
You're right, Celestia replied mentally, straining with concentration. This is taking much longer than it should. It should have been effortless. What is happening?
Belief, Discord said brightly. These lunatics clearly believe in their cause with all their hearts.
As you say. No more magic, then.
Celestia abruptly broke off the fighting and ran deeper into the enclave, completely ignoring every surprised cultist that crossed her path.
Deeper into the catacombs, she was struck by the bright colors, the thoughtfully-decorated walls and floors, all of it well-lit by multicolored floating orbs.
So, she thought, what exactly do these cultists believe, o omniscient one?
Oh, the usual culty stuff, you know, Discord replied casually. They're displeased with the way the world is run, and they want to bring it into a different order. Put the world under new management, as it were.
Celestia traversed a stairwell, passing a huge purple statue of a pony in the cultists' garb, and a massive golden chandelier with only a single, pitch-black candle.
It's the whole "order versus chaos" discussion—which benefits society more, Discord continued. They're not terribly original, this bunch. It's just the usual anarchistic schtick, really.
I see, Celestia hissed. They're no different from a goon who shoots a king in the back with a crossbow.
Yes, except the world is run by some pretty powerful goddesses these days, so that shot in the back is going to take a very big crossbow, Discord said enthusiastically. Metaphorically speaking. A crossbow made of faith!
Celestia slipped on a slick, sloped floor that was practically a chute. Falling down to one knee, she spread her wings to steady herself, skidding to a stop, and looking up to find herself inches away from a masked face.
The cultist's eyes glowed behind the mask, and Celestia was assaulted by visions.
From a third-person perspective, Celestia saw herself, in flashes, none longer than a single second, committing every ill deed she had ever done. The insignificant deeds, the truly evil deeds, those of her young self, her elderly self, everything she had done right up until the moment she imprisoned her sister in the moon.
Ignoring the visions entirely, she punched the cultist in the face.
The robed figure flew across the corridor and slammed into the door at the end. "How?" the figure demanded; it was the same one who had given orders and run away when Celestia had first arrived. "That vision should have been enough to overpower any goddess!"
"You chose the wrong vision, I'm afraid," Celestia snipped. "I have those visions every second of every day. Honestly, I didn't even realize at first that they had an external source."
Oh, don't be so blasted melodramatic, Discord grumbled.
"So," said Celestia, stepping over the cultist and opening the final door, "what are you hiding in here?"
In a simple stone room, there was an altar. On a raised pillar in its center, four pedestals pointed in four different directions, each with a statue standing at its edge and looking outward. Celestia was face-to-face with a carving of an armored alicorn.
"Nightmare Moon," she whispered. She glanced at the idols to the left and right size of the shrine. "Discord…" she muttered, as she walked around to the other side. "Sørmur dï Mitgaeard… and… the Beast…"
On the opposite side of the altar from Nightmare Moon was a hunched, cowled figure with legs like crooked archways. Celestia looked deeply into the pentagram shape carved into its eye.
In all directions, cultists gathered around, most of them nervous and listless, while a few were continuing to fire spells at Celestia to no effect. She ignored them and walked back to the front of the altar, raising her hooves over her head and smashing the Nightmare Moon statue to rubble with five quick, frantic strikes.
She turned to address the assembled cultists. "Worship these three all you like, but my sister is not affiliated with them," she snapped.
With that, she left the enclave without another word.
As she flew out over the Crystal Mountains, Discord manifested himself visually for the first time, floating in front of her with a raised eyebrow. What just happened?
"I'm cutting Nightmare Moon out of their religion and leaving them to their own devices," she replied curtly.
Oh. Well, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed. I thought you'd be delivering more of a beatdown. You know, when Kolassa and Annihilara found their local branch of the cult, they slaughtered them all.
"Well, that's their style. I only wanted to find out what was going on, and get out."
You couldn't have cut me out too? he said irritably. You think I'm affiliated with my mother and whatever that other thing was?
"Use of my sister's image matters to me," she said with a smirk. "I couldn't care less what ponies think about you."
He clutched his heart and rocked back on his heels mockingly. Thou hast wounded me to my very core. In all seriousness, though, don't you think you're going to regret letting them all live?
"Surely," she agreed. "But I could not do otherwise."
You certainly are something, he marveled. I don't know what, but something.
"A mess," she said sadly. "The word you're looking for is a mess."
The apparition of Discord pinched her cheek; their mental connection allowed her to feel as if he was actually doing so. That's what I love about you.
She swatted him away furiously. "Leave me."
Oh, you know I won't do that.