Inside the castle bedchamber.
Time flowed ceaselessly.
No telling how long had passed—perhaps a fleeting moment, perhaps several hours, or perhaps an entire day.
She did not know, nor did it matter.
For time held no meaning in an eternal night.
In the deepest shadows of the bedchamber, Nightmare Moon’s slit pupils, a brilliant teal-green, slowly opened.
With her awakening, the dark magic that had wrapped her in a slow, living shroud seemed to sense its master’s will.
It silently dispersed in all directions, like the most loyal of sentinels, clearing an area of absolute security for the queen.
Yet that very loyalty only deepened the solitude within the chamber.
She did not rise at once.
She simply lay still, feeling the hard, icy stone floor beneath her.
She felt that familiar, marrow-deep chill creeping through her body.
For a moment, a dazed look crossed her face, soon replaced by an unspeakable sense of sorrow and resignation.
This place…
seemed no different in essence from that cold slab of rock on the moon, where she had slept for a thousand years.
Out of sheer habit, she still wrapped herself in layers of dark magic to fend off the silence and chill of the moon, as well as the boundless darkness and emptiness, slowly forcing herself into slumber beneath that heavy cocoon.
And for a thousand years, every time she woke from her brief rests, the same sensation greeted her.
The same hardness, the same frost, the same dead silence that seemed capable of swallowing all hope.
It was the eternal loneliness of being forsaken by the world and exiled by time—an everlasting madness, an existence lived without a shred of hope.
She slowly sat up, her nebula-like mane trailing a soundless wake through the gloom.
Looking around, what met her eyes was still that familiar, impenetrable darkness.
The bedchamber was utterly vacant, barren of all decoration and color, left only with dust and the scars of time.
The air hung heavy with the smell of decay and grime; everything seemed so devoid of life.
In an instant, a terrifying thought coiled around her heart like a venomous serpent.
Had she truly escaped from the moon?
The scene before her began to overlap uncontrollably with her memories of the barren, frozen lunar surface.
The same darkness.
The same cold.
The same solitude.
Her breathing turned ragged.
Even her formidable power, an imposing majesty great enough to strip the heavens and earth of their splendor, could not bring her the slightest sense of security in this moment.
Was that thousand-year imprisonment really…
over?
Or was everything that had just happened—returning to Equestria, imprisoning her sister, proclaiming the arrival of the eternal night, and even…
accepting that peculiar subject…
Had it all been nothing more than a grand, vivid hallucination born of her desperate yearning for freedom?
A dream woven in boundless isolation, constructed merely to keep herself from going completely mad?
“Am I truly free?”
A shiver ran through her at the thought.
Subconsciously, she stirred her magic, longing to feel her own existence, to feel the vast reservoir of energy within her body, to feel the power of the nightmare—to reassure herself that she was still mighty, that darkness still bowed before her.
Even if it proved nothing.
Yet on the moon…
These were all she had ever possessed.
Just then, the magical brand upon her forehead pulsed with a faint, yet undeniably real connection.
It was the mark she had left on Ye Ziji.
Through this brand, she could clearly sense that somewhere in the castle, a vibrant lifeform was moving about.
That life did not belong to her, nor did it belong to this lifeless dark.
He was nearby.
He truly existed.
Like a beacon spotted across a boundless, abyssal sea, this revelation instantly dispersed the suffocating mist in her heart.
So it was not a dream.
He was real.
And she had truly returned.
Only after realizing this did the panic and self-doubt in her heart slowly recede.
But in their wake came an even stronger urge—she needed to see it with her own eyes. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
She could no longer bear the stifling, deathly silence of this bedchamber, which differed not a whit from that wretched lunar rock.
She rose slowly, her tall, imposing frame radiating innate majesty.
Without needing to issue a single command, the dark magic swirling around her sensed her intent and silently glided toward the bedchamber doors.
With a low grind of stone, the heavy doors parted to either side.
Yet the profound darkness of the corridor she had expected did not appear.
Instead, a faint, flickering amber glow filtered in through the opening, casting a rim of warm light across the floor before her.
The light was not piercing.
Nor was it the glare of her sister’s daylight—a light she so thoroughly hated and despised.
It was warm, gentle, carrying the breath of life.
Sensing this, Nightmare Moon’s brow furrowed slightly, her teal slit pupils filled with bewilderment.
Light?
In this forgotten ruin of an abandoned castle, shrouded by her eternal night, how could there be light?
Carrying this confusion, she stepped forward and slowly walked out of the bedchamber.
The moment her full figure emerged into the corridor, she froze completely.
For the first time, those eyes that had gazed through a thousand years of solitude showed genuine, deep-seated astonishment and emotion.
What met her sight was no longer the dilapidated corridor of her memory, strewn with rubble, choked with cobwebs, and caked in dust.
The scene before her was entirely different.
The ancient sconces lining the walls had been wiped spotless, each bearing a bright flame that illuminated the entire hallway.
The firelight flickered gently in the breeze, casting dancing shadows on the walls and infusing the space with vibrant life.
When her hooves met the floor, there was no muffled crunch of dust, only a crisp, rhythmic clatter that echoed through the open corridor.
The floor was immaculate.
The fractured fissures had been flawlessly repaired, polished so smooth that they reflected the soft glimmer of the candlelight.
Subconsciously, she raised a hoof and gently touched the wall beside her.
She felt no cold, rough, grime-encrusted stone as expected.
Instead, the surface was smooth, firm, and carried a faint, soothing warmth baked into it by the flames.
What…
what was going on here?
A massive shock rippled through her mind.
She remembered clearly that before she went to sleep yesterday, this place was nothing more than an abandoned castle lost to time.
Yet now, it resembled a proper, meticulously tended fortress.
The transformation was so abrupt, so total, that even her heart—hardened by a millennium of isolation—felt a momentary tremor of disbelief.
She did not linger, driven by instinct to take step after step toward the throne room.
Along the way, the sights she encountered continuously challenged her senses.
Every corridor, every turn, was worlds apart from what she remembered.
Broken stone pillars had been mended, collapsed archways rebuilt, and even the musty stench of decay in the air had been replaced by a warm, dry freshness.
The farther she walked, the greater her astonishment grew.
The more she saw, the deeper the perplexity in her eyes became.
The culprit behind all this was obvious.
Aside from her newly accepted subject, Ye Ziji—the one who wielded the power of elements—no other pony could have accomplished this.
Yet…
Why?
Why would he do this?
Her heart swirling with doubt and shock, Nightmare Moon traversed the corridor that felt both familiar and alien.
At last, she came to a halt before the grand archway leading to the throne room, an entrance etched deeply into her memory.
She did not enter right away.
Instead, she paused, casting her gaze into the space bathed in warm radiance beyond.
When she finally set foot into this core domain of hers, her heart could not help but quiver.
The throne room had changed.
The towering vaulted ceiling had been cleared, revealing the ancient, faded star chart painted beneath it.
The colossal stone pillars flanking the hall had been righted and restored.
Though the ancient runes carved upon them were still incomplete, they had been wiped clean of every speck of dust.
Most striking of all were the massive fireplaces on both sides, roaring with crackling blazes that breathed boundless warmth and vitality into the cavernous hall.
The floor gleamed like a mirror, clearly reflecting the firelight from the hearths and her own tall silhouette.
Step by step, she walked toward the center of the hall.
Her gaze finally came to rest upon the throne atop the dais at the far end.
Though it still bore many marks left by the passage of time—no longer as magnificent and solemn as when she and her sister had built the castle together a thousand years ago—it now exuded a distinct aura, no longer as cold and ruined as before.
Everything here, while far from the flawless perfection of her memories, had been restored just right.
It was no longer a forgotten ruin; it was once again a castle worthy of the name.
Just then, her attention was drawn to a figure in the corner.
There stood her new subject, Ye Ziji, his back turned to her, floating beside a stone pillar.
He seemed entirely unaware of her arrival, staring with utter concentration at the seams of the pillar.
The horn on his forehead glowed with a soft shimmer, precisely guiding a wisp of teal wind element thinner than a strand of hair to delicately brush away the most stubborn dust clinging to the crevices of an ancient relief.
His movements were exceptionally focused, meticulous, as though he were tending to a finely sculpted work of art.
Nightmare Moon watched him in silence for a long time.
Watching his unguarded back as he immersed himself in his labor, watching how he devoted his formidable elemental power entirely to her service…
The confusion in her heart peaked.
At last, she spoke slowly.
Her voice was not loud, yet it carried an undeniable majesty that rang clearly through the hall filled with the crackle of the hearth, instantly shattering the peaceful focus.
“Didst thou do all of this?”
The question, laden with majesty and bewilderment, fell like a stone cast into a tranquil pool, instantly breaking Ye Ziji’s focused concentration.
The wisp of wind element in his grasp quietly dissipated, and the glow on his horn dimmed along with it.
He turned around smoothly and unhurriedly, devoid of any fluster.
When he saw Nightmare Moon standing tall in the center of the hall, no fear surfaced on his face.
Instead, a well-measured smile touched with pride appeared on his lips.
He did not kneel in homage.
Instead, he straightened his posture and answered in a clear, resonant voice:
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
He inclined his head slightly, his gaze meeting those teal slit pupils without evasion.
“Last night, I took the liberty of cleaning and restoring this ancient castle, offering it as my very first act of service to you—the most beautiful, noble, and elegant Queen of Eternal Night in my heart.”
“Beautiful, noble, elegant…”
Those three words struck the softest, most vulnerable part of Nightmare Moon’s heart like three invisible spells.
In a thousand years, not a single living soul, not a single pony, had ever used such words to describe her.
Her sister, on the other hand, had received countless praises of that kind.
While she could only stand behind her sister, feeling the brilliance of the sun.
And after becoming Nightmare Moon…
All she had grown accustomed to was fear, hatred, disgust, and estrangement.
This sudden praise caused the interrogation she had prepared to stall for an instant.
A faint ripple, subtle enough that even she did not notice, flickered across her sharp green eyes.
She was just about to speak—instinctively and defensively seeking to press him on his true motives, to probe the sincerity behind these words.
Yet, just as she parted her lips…
As if seeing right through her intentions, Ye Ziji preempted her, speaking again in a tone even more earnest, passionate, and sincere, completely cutting off her words.
“After all,” he paused, his voice tinged with natural conviction as he spread his forehooves to gesture at the newly restored hall, “how could I allow you—the most beautiful, noble, and elegant pony in my heart—to condescend to dwell in such a dilapidated, desolate ruin?”
His gaze returned to Nightmare Moon.
His eyes were filled with unvarnished sincerity and resolve.
“You deserve better.”
“A cleaner floor, a brighter hall, and everything that is truly worthy of you.”
He took two steps forward and bowed his head slightly.
His posture was humble, yet his words carried even deeper earnestness.
“This is merely a modest token of my sincerity. I hope you—my Queen—find it pleasing.”
This time, Nightmare Moon fell completely silent.
If his first words had been flattery, then these subsequent words struck straight at the core of “acknowledgment” and “worth.” He had not bothered to justify his actions; he simply told her outright that she deserved better, that she was worthy of everything superior.
She stood there, frozen.
The firelight from the hearth cast her towering silhouette onto the wall behind her, flickering gently.
She looked at the “subject” before her, looking into those candid, pitch-black eyes that held not the slightest hint of deceit.
She listened as the lingering resonance of his words drifted through the spacious hall.
She felt as though she were enveloped in a warm, yet unimaginably powerful force.
That force brought an unfamiliar, tingling ache to the heart she had kept frozen for a thousand years.
All the questions she had prepared, all her sovereign majesty, seemed utterly pale and powerless in this instant.
As it turned out…
she deserved better.