Chapter Text
You are what you eat.
Deep night gently embraces the sky over Ponyville. In Canterlot, Princess Luna watches over the ponies' dreams from her throne, her azure eyes skimming over each dream bubble that floats before her. On this night, the inhabitants of Equestria have the most peaceful sleep ever, not a single nightmare to avert; even the foals sleep soundly and don't need Luna's guidance through their dreams. It would seem a good thing, Equestria sleeps soundly on this night, but still, it makes Luna a little wary. Indeed, it's strange that even the foals, impressionable and timid due to their inquisitive age, aren't dreaming about some campfire story. She ponders this thought for a moment, but then her thoughts blur and are replaced by another. What time is it, exactly? She looks up from her work and finds a large clock on the other side of the throne room. Almost 3:00 a.m.... Soon enough, Princess Luna would have to give way to her sister to raise the sun. While she was distracted, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a strange movement in one of the dream bubbles, too sudden for a peaceful, smooth slumber. As soon as she turned her head to see who it belonged to, it had already disappeared behind the others, flying upward and disappearing entirely from view. Sighing, her horn glinted with magic as the dreams that had flown from her sight began to descend, replacing a stream of new ones. She intended to find this dream and discover what was going on in the mind of a certain sleeping pony. But then her search was interrupted by the sound of the massive door to the throne room opening; she lowered her gaze towards the door. The darkness on the other side of the throne room made it difficult to tell who it was, as whoever had opened the door hadn't entered the room, and there was no sound of hooves on the polished floor. But Luna's eyes, now accustomed to the darkness, focused on the crack of the slightly open door. A pony stood there, hesitant to enter fully, only her head poking out. This unsettled Princess Luna; if it had been guards or servants, they would have long since moved on and explained the reason for her concern. And if it had been Celestia, she wouldn't have been staring at her in the doorway either. But Luna could make out a familiar outline: a long, majestic neck, white fur, a curly mane. No, it really was Celestia. Luna frowned slightly and called out, "Celestia, why in the world are you standing there? Don't scare me like that." Her horn faded, and the dream bubbles around her vanished. Drowsiness gradually crept into her eyes, her internal sleep clock beginning to tick, demanding she finish her work and retire to rest at dawn. "Now that you've come, nothing can delay me. I've finished my work and am heading to my chambers after I’ll lower the moon," she said, rising from her throne. But Celestia didn't move in the doorway, and didn't even say anything in response. She simply continued to stand, neck craned, by the massive, half-open door to the hall.
The deafening silence and lack of reaction worried Luna, uncharacteristic of her sister; even during heated arguments, her demeanor was never so distant. Luna's brows lowered warily, her gaze shifting toward the doors with distrust. She descended from the throne, and the sound of hooves on the floor echoed throughout the throne room. The sharp tip of the moon pony's horn gleamed, calling light into the cool room. The tense atmosphere and chilly night air made her shiver, but the gradually rising adrenaline kept her from shuddering in the embrace of the cool night air. The light from the horn spilled onto the walls of the hall before Luna, encompassing the door. With each cautious step, the light revealed the figure in the doorway more clearly. It was indeed Celestia. Luna called out to her again, her steps no less cautious. "Celestia, are you alright? Do you need something?" But after taking a couple of steps closer to the door, when her eyes could better see the pony standing in the doorway, she stopped moving, frozen a meter away. Now she understood what was wrong. Celestia was indeed standing in the doorway, but nothing remained of this Celestia except her body. She was empty inside, hastily stuffed with cotton wool; the stuffed fluff was visible in her ears and in her slightly open mouth, soaked with the blood that once ran through her veins. A lifeless gaze, imprinted with horror, stared through Luna with dry eyes. The corners of her mouth, sewn to her white cheeks, created a crooked semblance of a smile that was completely at odds with the grimace of horror that had been forced onto it. Her mouth began to open slightly, revealing an immobilized, once-dislocated jaw. Her jaw now hung awkwardly from her mouth, held on only by skin that was now devoid of flesh and filled only with fluff. Remnants of the fluff fell to the floor, some of it now clinging to her teeth, promising to follow the rest on the floor. Luna didn't dare move, didn't dare squeak, didn't even blink, leaving her staring blankly at her sister's effigy. A feeling of fear and loss began to gather in her azure eyes, blurring her vision. A lump in her throat formed in her graceful dark neck, she clenched her teeth, her jaw tensed. Whoever held Princess Celestia's effigy heard her attempts to suppress her sobs and remain silent, but it was futile. Nothing was inevitable anymore.
The mare's laughter outside the door, which had begun as a rumble of thunder, began to escalate into a psychotic storm, laughing at the insignificance of the princess, who had once inspired fear with her power but now helplessly wept over her fate and her sister's mutilated body. Her brain screamed for action, for her to fight and struggle, but her body was paralyzed by fear, and she dared not move. The door swung open wider, crashing against the wall of the hall. The rag-like body of the former ruler fell directly onto Luna, who stood nearby. She screamed, accompanied by the deranged and unnatural neighing of the pony at the door. Her scream was complemented by the wild laughter of the maddened pony. This twisted melody of two voices echoed through the walls of the throne room, creating a symphony of horror, promising something inevitable, terrible, and filled with bestial cruelty.
Atop Luna lay her sister's effigy, now reeking of rot and blood, stuffed with feathers like a plush toy and crookedly sewn on at the spine. In response to the whitest grimace of horror, her pity for her sister's fate gave way to self-pity. She began to suspect that if Celestia, a powerful ruler, had ended up a rag doll, disposed of like a perverted trophy, then Luna would be lucky to end up like Celestia, and not worse. Her vision began to darken, and she felt something begin to rise from her stomach and up her esophagus. Perhaps her body was reacting to the situation she found herself in, or to the stinking stench of Celestia's mutilated body, still in the arms of the still-living princess. She threw her body aside, trying to shake off the nausea, and rolled onto her side, her front hooves bracing against the floor. But the nausea only grew; the pony at the door approached her leisurely, because whoever it was knew they were in no hurry and had plenty of time to tend to Luna. Luna vomited onto the floor with a sickening gagging sound, trying to catch her breath. The vomit was a strange shade, mostly dark, but also tinged with red; it was unclear whether it was her blood or something else of unknown origin. Bubbles began to rise from it, as if from some kind of corrosive acid. And with each burst, small childish voices rose to the princess's ears, growing more adult and mature with each repetition, culminating in an angry voice. "You are what you eat," they repeated in a crooked unison. The standing pony drew closer to the princess with every step, walking behind her, looking at her once-majestic form, where now nothing remained but helplessness, fear, and despair, reveling in how easily it was broken. The princess was yanked sharply by her curly mane, her chin covered in her own vomit. Her vision grew even more clouded, the images on the walls of the hall losing their image, turning into solid blots. She tried to take a deep breath but couldn't, forcing her to take anxious short breaths to somehow stabilize herself. But everything seemed to only get worse. Her eyes swam and then gradually darkened. Feelings churned like the contents of a floor. Sweat beaded on her forehead from heat and panic, and she squeezed her eyes shut as hard as she could, trying to push away this nightmare. Then, in the excruciating silence, a ringing sound rang out. The alarm clock. Twilight's eyes immediately snapped open, realizing where she was, gradually distinguishing dream from reality. She rose effortlessly from the bed, thanks to the adrenaline rush of the nightmare, and turned off the alarm with a single tap of her hoof. Then she lay back down on the pillow, recovering from the events of the dream, which felt all too real. She felt her heart pounding, as if she'd just run a marathon through Ponyville. To calm herself, she began doing breathing exercises, like her friend Fluttershy had taught her when she was nervous about an exam. Her eyes began to scan the room, convincing herself that it was just a nightmare, and now she was home and safe. But the air in the room was too stuffy from the summer heat; she and Spike must have forgotten to open the windows last night, after their trip to Canterlot. She got out of bed and, using magic, effortlessly opened the window, swinging it wider. But instead of a refreshing breeze, a sharp, rotten smell hits her nose. She immediately closes the window again, covering her nose with a hoof. "What in Celestia's name is that smell?" Twilight peers out the window. Maybe the raccoons had just come running in during the night and knocked over the trash, which is now rotting in the sun. But no, she noticed that every pony outside had a sick look on their face from the smell. Almost every passerby was wearing a splinter on their nose or a surgical mask, but apparently they weren't doing much to combat the stench. "What's going on?"