Chapter Text
There wasn't much, not at first. A tumble of silence and sound, light and shadow, signifying nothing. So little that I remember... If I had an origin, I do not remember it. If there was any time before the tumbling void, I do not recall it. There was only myself, and the void, and the sussuration of voices all around.
Of the time that came before that time, I only learned later, secondhand, from those few remaining who'd bore witness. The shadowy little ones, the small and low and creeping things, talked to me of ages past in the dark forested land, and how it came to be.
As all ponies know, Equestria is a beautiful land, indeed, and rich with good things, blessed by the warming face of the sun. What most did not know, or could not understand, is that there were many things in the wheel of life that, through no fault of their own did not bear up well in the full light of the sun-- blossom and leaf that withered under its caress, creeping things that suffered and thirsted in its heat, poor creatures who, stripped of their sheltering night, could only tremble in fear or cringe in shame under the eye of Day. For the ponies, the light of Day was warmth and comfort; for other creatures, it was to be stripped of all cover and laid bare and helpless before claw and beak and talon and fang.... or too be betrayed to their own lesser quarry that then fled, mocking, as they went thirsty and hungry. No, Day was not a blessing for all, and many of the lowly who lived in Her kingdom were driven out....to find shelter here, in the eternal twilight of Hollow Shades.
They whispered of how the forest had lain in darkness and shadow since time immemorial; how as ages passed the forest had become vast and deep, a twilit sanctuary for countless creatures, great and low, who through no fault of their own could not bear the less than gentle caress of the light of day, and who came from all over Equestria to shelter among its night-laden boughs.
Centuries passed, unheeded. The dark and low and creeping things were joined in their solitude by others. Not all were small nor timorous; many were rightfully driven from the light into the shadow. The malajusted and malformed, hiding their shame; the savage and feral, who filled the night with fangs and eyes. And it did not remain void of the truly wicked, either. Wicked sorcerers, scheming tyrants, cults filled with strange ceremonies and mad intent, ponies of true wickedness found their way there as well.
Prey or predator, unjustly exiled, unjustly shamed or righteously exiled, innocent and fragile or feral and cunning or cerebral and filled with terrible purpose, they all had one thing in common: they were of the Night, and all things of the Night found their way to the darkling forest.
Misfit ponies came and built their little cottages. Vampire lords came and built their mansions and castles. Scholars and businessmen whose eyes burned with more than ambition found their way here and built their factories and their schools and their laboratories, only to find their Doom and leave behind the husks of their buildings and their ambitions, to be picked up someday by the feverish hooves (and hands, and paws, and tentacles) of others.
Many houses crumbled. One manor.... lingered.
An eccentric heiress built a getaway bungalow deep in the forest in her dotage, just her and her hundreds of exotic pets. She lived there alone, till the fateful day the housekeeper from the lakeside village came by one week and found her gnawed bones lying in her opulent bed and her hundreds of animal cages mysteriously empty....
A scientist, his eyes burning with a vision only he could see, took up residence... the manor grew... noone knew what sort of “research” he did, but it seemed to involve wandering the scattered graveyards of the hills with a hunchback and a shovel... for many years the only signs of life from the perpetually mouldering mansion were glimpses of him, or the hunchback, or his hulking brute of a butler caught through the cracked windows....
A doctor, oozing compassion from every pore and a steady parade of patients in through his front door, was the next to stake a claim. If people noticed that the number of patients coming OUT of his self-proclaimed Compassionate Clinic for the Grotesquely Deformed never seemed to tally with the count of those going IN, noone had the nerve to mention it. Not till after the fire. Eyewitnesses reported seeing him fleeing the flames into the forest, along with a score of his swollen-skulled, pretzel-jointed little patients. The last anyone saw the good Doctor the patients were gaining on him...
A dark wizard whose name none knew, who spoke of the mysteries of space and time with great intimacy. He strode into the burgeoning collection of rooms and halls and vaulted chambers one day, and more than half of the vast castle disappeared with him...
A brotherhood of scholars, ignoring all warnings, dared to open a new Great Librarium. One far away from the watchful eye of the Sun, one without all its petty restrictions, that gathered all the disparate volumes of quaint and long-forgotten lore under the same roof. They passed Starswirls Hypothetical Thaumatic Critical Mass within the year.... their only warning, when the books themselves rose up-- just as the countless shelves of tomes folded themselves widdershins around their own singularity and got sucked down a broom closet.
And the forest of the Night grew, and spread, and swelled its ranks, growing deeper with every passing year. And the endless centuries of Night rolled by. Barely noticing a hiccup when twice, in a thousand years, the sun vanished and the Night threatened all. But the crisis passed, the dawn returned to the world-- and the eternal, storm-lashed night of the forest went on, as ever before....
And then they came. Another band of ponies in hoods and robes, these preaching loudly of a new Princess of the Night as they laid hoof on the abandoned ruins and slowly, patiently built them up anew.
Monsters were purged from the greater halls. These ponies were no fools. Whether mineral, vegetable, animal or other, the many children of the night lurking in the forest or haunting the Manor's many impossible halls found themselves tamed and brought to heel by these new Pony masters--- even the shambling Butler, who had lorded it over the cobwebbed halls in memory of his late “father” bowed and scraped to these new masters of the Hall of Night.
For they came bearing the tattered remnants--- scraps of wing, mane and tail, battered scraps of moon-metal armor crumpled beyond recognition, still-writhing wisps of magic--- of a Darkness greater than all of them.
The fateful moonrise came. The cowled minions of the Cult of Nightmare Moon gathered in the great chamber. Glyphs were drawn, candles lit, and to heavy faux latin chanting the remains of the Queen of the Night were laid out beneath the focusing crystal of the great Orrery. The chanting rose to a crescendo, and a single drop of blood, retrieved at great difficulty and cost from the Sun Princess' own acolyte, was allowed to fall on the pyre.
Things promptly got very loud and very, very bright.
This much I too remember. My first memory was my only memory, the Awareness, sudden and unheralded. Like waking from a too-deep slumber into a day so bright it hurt. All I remember is a blazing light of indigo and octarine, so intense it hurt--- yet at the same time so brief it was gone almost before I could respond.
Then I was plunged back into the cool of the darkness. Confusion, disorientation. I was wet, and cold, and lying huddled on a cold hard stone surface. lay on a stone laboratory table, in the middle of a huge circular room, like a vast operating theatre. Strange machinery, vast hulking things, alien and ominous to my newly crystallized mind, hung down from the roof over me, still sparking and smoking.....
Cold water trickled down on me from above-- rain, that was the word-- from a gaping hole high overhead that rumbled and flashed from time to time with light-- roof, there was a hole in the roof, and the rain and the lightning was getting in....
The cult was gone. All its faithful followers, fanatical in their devotion to the One True Princess, were gone. In their place All around were robes, scorched black with lightning and strewn over crumbled bones.
Words, more and more words. Rain and Lightning and Cold, I knew. But names? What was my name? Who was I? What was I?
Memories surfaced... or tried to. I cannot describe it any better. The Rainbow had purged Princess Luna of everything Nightmare Moon, restoring her, leaving a husk behind. The cult had sought to resurrect Nightmare Moon from the husk--- but that was all I was. Childhood? Family? Friends and loved ones? Her memories and feelings? None of those were mine; they were Luna's, and went with her when she shed the few bits that were me like a snake skin. I had nothing but holes where those things should have been. Miserable and alone, I wept.
Faces appeared above me and looked down upon me. Lumpen pony heads with swollen brows and curious eyes gazed into my own. Other faces, lean and wolfen and festooned with bark and leaves, joined them, sniffling and whuffling. Still more, countless shapes, elfin and equine and alien and monstrous and shrouded in moonlight and shadow. I sobbed in fear, then in sorrow, they approached... and comforted me, nuzzling me in compassion, blocking out the thunder and sheltering me from the rain with hulking forms and leathern wings. Massive knuckled hands picking me up and gently cradling me, wrapping me in sheets from the laboratory table for swaddling clothes. A beetle-browed, rubbery face framed in brass rivets and tangled hair looking down on me with kind, if mismatched eyes.
“Ook.” it said. <Mistress.>
Other voices... some guttural, some sibilant.... took up the refrain. <Mistress. Mistress.>
*****
“And so my life began,” the regal figure said. “ I was Nightmare Moon, reborn! I was nursed by bowtruckles, wrapped in swaddling clothes salvaged from hospital blankets and mansion linens, watched over by will o wisps and bogies. My playmates were the long abandoned monsters of the menagirie. I learned my letters and numbers from the roving packs of magic tomes; all else I was taught at the knee of faithful Hobbes...” A graceful silver-shod hoof gestured to a large simian form. Hobbes, it woudd knuckling its way around the room with a tea set.
“Ook.”
“Quite welcome. ….”
I grew swiftly. more and more of the denizens of this dark forest came to this, my castle out of time. Some seeking shelter from predators. Some in search of prey. I brought succor to the needy; found ways for those with dark appetites to sate themselves without harming others. For my sake the creatures of the night leave the village ponies in peace so long as they respect our boundaries. I declared this place neutral territory, a sanctuary for all so long as they dwelled within its crumbling walls. All, in the end, swore fealty to me, as the true Princess of the Dark and Shadowed Places and Things.
“And thus, my kingdom of Shadows was born.” The couchant alicorn finished her story, crossing her silver-shod forehooves and folding her leathern wings tidily to her sides. All around the circular theatre echoed with smattered applause; clapping hands, clopping hooves, skittering carapaces. The four guests of honor seated front and center, Spike, Peewee, Flash Sentry and Princess Twilight, sat enthralled with Princess Nyx's tale, teacups halfway to their open mouths and forgotten. They applauded enthusiastically when the story was done.
“Oh, that was so fascinating!” Twilight said, her forehooves clopping together.
“Amazing,” Flash sentry agreed, once he'd retracted his dangling jaw.
“....And sad,” Spike added, holding his cup out for Hobbes to refill. The steampunk orangutan graciously refreshed his cup and added three lumps of sugar.
Peewee withheld comment. It was understandable he was a bit miffed; he'd been made to perch inside a smoked-glass lantern to spare the more photosensitive members of the Night Princess' court. But he was graced with a cup of water and dish of crumbs, as an honored guest.
“To think that all this time Luna's twin sister was stranded in Hollow Shades,” Twilight marveled. “Well.Kind of...”
Flash Sentry leaned in to speak to Twilight. “Isn't she... well isn't she really a sort of copy of Luna? Or even Luna herself, in a way?”
The alicorn in question was, in face, form and stature, a fair “ringer” for the original Princess of the Moon.... up to a point. Beyond that point her appearance diverged dramatically. Rather than the rich purple coat and starlit mane of the original, she bore a coat of deepest indigo, almost black, and a mane and tail of silvery moonlight. Her turquoise eyes were cat-pupiled, and delicate fangs graced the corners of her mouth. Instead of plumage, her wings were ribbed and webbed like those of a bat. Luna was a princess of the Night; the alicorn before them was an alicorn of the Dark, in all its breadth and depth and paradoxical fragility. She was as different from Luna as Luna was from Celestia.
And yet....
Twilight chewed her lip. “Forgive us for asking, Nyx.... but considering your origins, how--- that is to say, what is your... stance on Princess Celestia and Luna? That is to say....”
Spike held up a claw. “I'll say it,” he said to Twilight. He turned on his cushion and faced Princess Nyx. “Are you gonna go Nightmare Moon on us?”
“SPIKE!” Twilight yelped. “Forgive him, Princess,” she said to Nyx. “He can be a little brusque when agitated...”
“It's a fair question,” Spike protested. “I mean.... she's HER, isn't she?” He gestured at the Alicorn. “She just admitted it. She's Nightmare Moon, brought back to life!”
To their surprise, a chuckle came from the nightshade alicorn. “You need not fear that, young dragon. I have observed the Princesses from afar. I admire them and look up to them. Why would I wish any ill pon them or wage strife upon them?
“Forgive me,” she said. “But you misunderstand. I am not Nightmare Moon.”
This brought Spike up short. “But you just said...”
“I know, and I am sorry I did not make myself clear. I can understand your error. For the longest time I thought the same thing myself. The Nightmare cultists who created me... I studied their notes and their journals, and the tomes of magic they themselves worked from. They made the same error...
“Nightmare Moon was Luna. Luna was Nightmare Moon. Nightmare Moon was no spirit or fiend or entity that had possessed your Moon Princess; she was Luna herself. Corrupted, and fallen, and broken in heart and spirit and mind--- but still completely Luna. The memories were hers. The grievances, hers. The sins, hers.
“ When Luna left the Castle of the Sisters that day, she left nothing behind but a few tatters of magic, some broken bits of armor, and an empty outline... one which the cultists filled in with a their own gabbled teachings and wafty theories. Not enough to make even a fully formed dream of Nightmare Moon, much less a reborn version of her. In the end they even had to use three drops of blood, stolen from the Princess' own protege, to grow a living body...” She looked meaningfully at Twilight.
Twilight Sparkle's wings flared. “I-- I remember the day we beat Nightmare Moon,” she said faintly, eyes wide. “The royal guard made such a fuss over us. Their nurse even drew a blood sample to test for.. to test for...” Her eyes met Nyx's. “Oh my stars and garters.”
Princess Nyx nodded. “As you have surmised, Twilight,” she said. “The cultists absconded with the sample, and used it in the ceremony to create... me.” She fanned her wings. “A clone, or the beginning of one....” she sounded wistful. “We are sisters, in a way, you and I.”
Twilight looked haunted. “No. More like a daughter....” she said.
“No way,” Spike objected. “That was just a couple of years ago.” He pointed an accusing claw at Nyx. “She'd be just a baby. But here she is, a full grown pony!”
Nyx looked slightly sad. “But I did not have time to grow up,” she said to Spike. “There were many creatures and entities in these woods, far grimmer and crueler, who had not yet bent the knee. Many hidden lairs, forgotten castles, mad laboratories, and haunted, crumbling manors among the dark trees; many a hazard to life, hoof and limb to subdue-- I could not tarry for childhood. I used my magic to force the matter, and so raced to the marehood you see now--” she stood and flared her wings demonstratively--”within the course of a single winter and summer.
“Alas, I know enough now to regret it. But in the end it was for the best.. My subjects are loyal, but they are poorly suited for raising a foal in the wilderness.”
Twilight felt her heart lurch in sympathy. She realized the mare before her had sacrificed a lonely childhood for the sake of a lonely throne. “You don't have to live alone like this,” she blurted out. “Celestia and Luna-- all of us would welcome you to join us--”
“In Canterlot?” Nyx said. She smiled wistfully. “Would that it could be. But I suspect the ponies of Equestria are not... not quite ready for such a Court as I might hold.” She swept a wing, indicating the whole of the theatre-sized room, now packed with creepy-crawlies, bugaboos and goblinesque things. “Nor would my people be ready for such as them.”
“And what of my duties to this place? Tis a full task indeed to keep the peace between monsters and mortals, and to do such from the shadows so neither one loses peace of mind.” She ruefully hoofed at the cage-topped fruit basket beside her, inside which a certain vampire watermelon sat and sulked. “Trust my word, keeping Count Melon and his minions reined in is a full time task, all on its own! No, no, I shant be leaving my home.
“Their Highnesses are welcome in my little kingdom, and I wish you luck in your Quest for more of our clan... but I shall be staying here.”
The double doors behind them creaked open, in the best tradtition of haunted houses everywhere. “The storms have ceased for the moment, and dawn is approaching,” Nyx said. “The melonheads will give you safe passage through he forest and back to town.” Several pony-like creatures with glowing eyes and swollen, distorted heads like misshapen gourds tottered out of the crowd and took up a ragged escort around Twilight and her friends. “Godspeed, and safe journey, my strange new friends...”
If there was anything the three Equestrians had learned from living in Canterlot Castle, it was how it sounded when one was being dismissed from the royal presence. They got to their feet and after many profuse thanks for the tea, wasted no time departing. They were outside in short order, standing in the tall grass. Of the timberwolves and Whomping Willows the night before, no sign remained. As promised, the rains had stopped save for the pattering of the leaves as they shed the lingering rainwater, and the light of morning, much dimmed, was filtering down in meager streaks through the boughs. The melonheads began their shambling, wobble-headed march forward; the forest seemed to open before them in a wide open path.
As they walked off, Twilight cast a look back over her shoulder. The vast shambling Castle of the Dark was, once again, nothing more than an old broken-down manor, long abandoned to the forest.
Flash Sentry caught a glimpse of the wistful expression on her face. “Penny for your thoughts, Princess?” he murmured.
. “I don't know,” she admitted. “But... that poor thing...cult or no cult, she was made in part from my blood, my magic! If I had known, if anyone had... I can't help wondering what might have been....?”
Twilight turned her attention back to the path ahead. “Never mind. We've got a long way to go, and a long report to file with the Princesses. No time to waste on what never was.” She stepped up her pace to a canter. “Come on, let's get back to the village while the weather holds!”