From the very beginning, there was nothing. There was nothing because I was nothing, because if I didn’t exist, then the world didn’t exist. Cogito ergo sum. I think, therefore I am.

However by this logic, without thought there cannot be existence. If I decided not to think, then I decided not to exist. So whenever existence got too tedious for me, I just shut my mind off and ceased to exist. That way I could enjoy a peaceful slumber, one that would last for an eternity. Or maybe I could have been sleeping from the start, and everything else was naught but a dream for me.

But you can’t dream in death. That was how I knew that I still existed, because if I didn’t exist then I wasn’t thinking, and if I wasn’t thinking then I was nothing.

Cogito ergo sum after all.

That’d be the idea at least, if all of my thoughts were my own.  Instead, my thoughts were laid bare for all to see, to be picked apart and examined, torn through and dissected, as if I were a corpse freshly harvested by a sadistic maniac. A maniac who enjoyed ripping out one’s guts to expose everything that lay inside.

And once those private, most innermost thoughts were exposed, they’re just thrown off to the side to mix in with all the others. Once my guts were torn outside of my body, they were sent to join the endless heaps of organs, an entangled, fleshy mess where it became impossible to distinguish me.

Such is the way of the collective unconsciousness.

You’re thrown into that chaos without having a clue as to what’s going on. At first you still have a semblance of thought, and idea of who you are. But that individual identity of yours begins to tear apart at the seams. The swirling forces of the collective unconsciousness chip away at your individuality, tearing apart everything that makes you into what you are until you can scarcely recognize yourself, until your mind has been assimilated into the sea of thought.

It’s almost like your body is being mutilated to the point where you’re unidentifiable. As if a sledgehammer pounds into your face over and over and over again until your skull comes crashing in on itself, until the pink mush of your grey matter spills onto the floor. A corpse without a face cannot be recognized, so once you’re robbed of your face, you’ve become robbed of your identity.

That’s what the collective unconsciousness does to you. It takes your face away from you, strips everything that makes you you and assimilates what’s left into the greater whole. And no matter how much you struggle against that sledgehammer in that space, it will eventually come for you. You might as well be a grain of sand struggling against the towering waves of the ocean when it comes to retaining your sense of self in the collective unconsciousness. In fact, a grain of sand would probably have a greater probability of overcoming the towering waves as opposed to a single soul conquering the collective unconsciousness.

No matter how much you struggle against the torrential chaos, in the end the chaos will win. It was a quadrillion to one probability that you would somehow manage to maintain yourself in the midst of all that chaos.

A quadrillion to one probability.

But still a possibility.

No, not a possibility, a miracle.

It would take a miracle to overcome those odds.

I was that miracle.

I was that one.

“Hee hee… you shouldn’t be conceited you know.”

…

“Don’t be like that. It isn’t polite to ignore the one who preserved your identity.”

Preserved my identity.

Saved me from the sledgehammer of fate.

“A sledgehammer? Really, couldn’t you come up with a more… elegant metaphor? A sledgehammer just seems so barbaric.”

I finally spoke up. “You know, it’s not polite to listen in on one’s thoughts either. The mind is supposed to be considered one’s most sacred inner sanctum.”

The shadows swirled and twisted around me, building and rebuilding a series of shapes and structures. In an abstract fashion, the shadows sharpened and twisted to form a foundation of spiral structures stretching out towards the sky upon a bed of solid glass.

It was a world of impossibilities and illusion, the perfect physical manifestation of the collective unconsciousness.

“Come now,” the other voice said. “Sit and talk with me for a while. I’m a bit tired of watching over this story you’ve laid out.”

I sighed and lifted my head up. “You can’t at least grant me the pleasure of being left to myself when I don’t have a part to play?” I asked, trotting over towards her location. “You know it’s a huge pain to have to deal with you.”

The voice laughed. “Such a foul mouth you have when referring to your benefactor!” It was a female voice who spoke lightheartedly, yet beneath that joviality laid a thickly venomous edge.

I completely disregarded that hidden poison and continued to speak in an annoyed manner. “I’m just voicing my feelings is all. Just because you saved me doesn’t mean I have to kiss up to you all the time.”

“I suppose you’re right,” the voice said halfheartedly. “Besides, it’s more interesting to have a companion who bites back rather than one who keeps their head down. It staves off the boredom for a little while longer.”

“Do you want anything Noctis?” I said impatiently. “Or can I just go back to sleep now?”

A figure appeared from the shadows. It was a mare in a long, elegant gown whose colors held shades of black and violet. She had a sort of gothic beauty to her, a beauty befitting of one who was named after the night. The lower half of her body was obscured by the tablecloth she stood behind, as if she was masking something she didn’t want seen.

Noctis giggled. “Come now, my maiden, calm your temper and have a bit of tea with me.” She gestured towards the table. On it was an assortment of cookies and a pair of teacups that exuded a sweet and tantalizing aroma.

I grudgingly took a seat and a teacup. As much as I disliked Noctis, it’d be unwise of me to turn down her good graces. Without her guardianship, I would’ve been erased from existence a long time ago…

“That’s better,” Noctis smiled, seeing me take a sip of the tea. Bitter, as expected. “Now my maiden, tell me how you have been. It’s been a while since we’ve last chatted. A couple thousand years I presume?”

I shrugged. “Something like that. Time in this space doesn’t work the same way as it does in reality.”

“Hahaha!!” Noctis cackled. “Reality she says! That’s a good one!” She stifled down her laughter and took a sip from her teacup. Without any noticeable aura or energy, the teacup levitated from the table to her lips and back again. “Riddle me this, what stops this abstract space from being a reality in and of itself?”

“The fact that reality is relative, and in my eyes reality is what lies on the physical plane,” I answered.

“The physical plane?” Noctis parroted. “This plane is much more physical to me than the one where you come from is. You can see it yourself, can’t you? How your so called reality is nothing more than a gameboard to be toyed around with in this higher space of ours.”

“I’d prefer to call it a story,” I refuted nonchalantly. “A gameboard is meant to be a challenge between two parties—without that challenge it’s impossible for one to exist. A story can exist independently, without ever having to be imparted to anypony other than its Creator.”

“But we two exist together, don’t we?” Noctis smirked. “Together as opponents in this game?”

I shook my head. “We aren’t opposing parties. I just don’t like you.”

Noctis clopped her hooves together in amusement. “I knew I made the right choice when I saved you from the depths of oblivion!”

I shrugged off her comment and took another sip of my tea. It was still bitter, as if nothing had ever changed from the beginning. “I’m grateful for the miracle you’ve provided me,” I said nonchalantly as I placed my teacup down. “But the many sins you’ve committed far outweighs any gratitude I have for you.”

“Sin is relative,” Noctis laughed. “What appears as a sin to you is nothing more than speck of dust beneath my fingernails to me.” I frowned. Fingernails? I didn’t really understand the analogy. As if she could read my thoughts from my expression (and chances are she could’ve read my thoughts anyways) she addressed my confusion. “I forget the anatomy of you equine species every so often. I spent so much more time in another form that I often forget that I myself take an equine shape in this Fragment!” She chuckled and took another sip of her tea, as if an invisible force lifted the cup to her lips.

There she goes again, talking about things I don’t understand. I allowed my displeasure to show on my face as I spoke to her. “Fingernails, Fragments, whatever those are don’t really concern me. My only wish is for the well-being of those ponies who are struggling to live with everything they have.”

Noctis chortled. “And just those ponies? What about the wolves? Will you just leave them all to rot in oblivion while only your precious kin bask in the light of salvation?”

“Salvation only comes to those with hearts of kindness,” I muttered. “Those with tainted souls can never be saved.”

“Never?” Noctis repeated. Her eyes narrowed provokingly. “Speaking in absolutes, are you? Do you think you’re some kind of Goddess then, able to pass judgment on who can and cannot live?”

I shrugged. “You tell me.”

My detached response sent Noctis into hysterics. She started laughing like mad, filling the air with nothing but her cackles. She carried on like this for a few minutes before she finally settled down enough to speak again. “Hahaha… oh my, you’re so entertaining, my dearest maiden. I wouldn’t know what I’d do if you weren’t around, even before your Ascension you were a great source of entertainment to me!”

I cringed a little from hearing the word ‘Ascension,’ but I somehow managed to conceal my displeasure from Noctis. Or at least, she didn’t make it apparent that she noticed my reaction. I carried on the conversation, keeping myself as casual as possible. “If I wasn’t around, I imagine that you’d be dead right about now.”

Noctis smiled. “You know how it is with Witches; boredom is the only poison that can kill us after all those centuries of living. And once we find something that interests us again, we’ll be resurrected as if nothing has ever happened.”

“And I’m a Witch, just like you huh…?” I muttered, remembering a conversation the two of us had long ago.

“Yes, just like me.” Noctis confirmed. “A Witch’s maiden is but a Witch herself, albeit a much weaker one since your status depends on my guardianship.” She waved a hoof past the broken sky, past the haze of the collective unconsciousness, up towards the unknown heavens of worlds beyond. “And one day when this story is over, my interest will die down and boredom will overtake me. And I will succumb to the depths of oblivion until another story comes along to stir me from my slumber.” She gazed absentmindedly at the edges of her hoof. “And maybe when I wake up I’ll have fingers again. Not that I’m at a disadvantage without it, but just because I once enjoyed leisurely activities such as painting my nails. Painting a hoof is just not the same you understand.”

“No, I don’t understand.” I answered. “But then again, I don’t particularly care to understand either.”

“Whatever suits you best.” Noctis shrugged and took one last sip of tea, her teacup dissolving into nothingness once she replaced it onto the table. “Now, I believe, you wished for me to get to the point earlier?”

“I’d like that very much,” I replied, following suit and setting my cup down into the same nothingness.

“Very well then,” Noctis stretched out her hooves and with a flourish, suddenly blasted the table away from her. The various sweets and silverware were sent flying through the air, the shattering of glass resounding as the teapot smashed against the luminescent ground. Each time an object smashed against the ground, the world vibrated around me, as if the very foundations of the reality on which we stood on trembled from Noctis’s actions. But still, I stood unfazed, this destruction blowing above me, beside me, around me, but not through me.

The gothic pony laid back into her chair, revealing what had stood under the tablecloth. Her body was covered in chains, restricting her from leaving the chair. Each of these chains held a strange, otherworldly sheen to it, as if they were made of something more than mere metals.

I raised an eyebrow, unperturbed. “I see that you’re as comfortable as ever.”

“Of course I am,” Noctis replied, a smile on her face. “Why wouldn’t a Witch like me be comfortable confined to this seat, unable to travel about as I wish and tamper with the fabrics of reality? I’m absolutely ecstatic to be able to laze around like this, sipping tea and nibbling on crumpets, absolutely ecstatic!!”

“Glad to hear it,” I shrugged.

“I’m glad you’re glad,” Noctis said, the smile fading from her expression. “My previous maiden was also glad when she set me up in such a lavish position.”

My eyes narrowed. “I’m glad she was glad,” I responded carefully. “It’s thanks to her that I don’t have to worry about your whims interfering with my story.”

Noctis chuckled. “Hmhmhm… you’re so much more interesting than she was, you know that?” she asked rhetorically. “And to think you used to be such an idealist before you became a Witch… always blindly believing in what others told you until it was too late… even to the point of forsaking your—”

“Your point being?” I interrupted icily. “I believe I more than made up for that particular misdeed, so I see no point in you bringing it up.”

“Is that so?” Noctis taunted in a poisonous manner. “Did you make up for it when you led your kingdom to ruin? Or maybe when you imposed that so-called salvation upon those who you deemed fit?”

“I gave them a chance to be saved,” I defended, trying not to let my emotions get the better of me. “I gave them a chance, and they spurned it. No matter what kind of empty promises they spewed at me, in the end they proved that they are rotten to their very core.”

“Is it sinful to want to survive?” Noctis asked.

“If others have to be pointlessly condemned to death, then yeah.”

Noctis smirked. “Then by your very definition… are you not a sinner?”

I pondered over that for a moment. “If it means I can break the cycle of tragedy, then I don’t mind being a sinner.”

“Break the cycle of tragedy?” Noctis tried to stifle her mocking laughter, but she couldn’t help letting tinges of it escape. “Excuse me, but for whom? What you did wasn’t to break the cycle of tragedy, you just pushed it onto someone else while the transcendent sun shone upon your own personal world!”

“Isn’t that fine?” I said coldly. “I’m definitely no saint, so if I want to be selfish and condemn those I deem sinners into eternal oblivion, isn’t that just fine?”

My words sent Noctis into yet another long fit of laughter. It was annoying, having that whole situation brought up, and having that Witch laugh at it. My decisions are my own, and yeah maybe those decisions were selfish. I used to have hope that they could be saved, but that hope was dashed into the ground a thousand times over. I can’t forgive them for what they did, so in a sense, maybe my salvation was nothing but cheap revenge. Revenge meant to satisfy nopony but myself.

But isn’t that okay? Because my own personal revenge brought smiles to the faces of those who would never otherwise be able to truly smile. My revenge brought happiness to those I cared about.

And the only price I paid was to rob that happiness from those who didn’t deserve it. Isn’t that a fair trade?

“Your hypocrisy knows no bounds,” Noctis said through her laughter. “First you believed in a staunch hope, and then at the very last minute you dashed it all away for another! Then you betrayed that new hope just to revert back to what you believed in all that time ago! It’s ridiculous!!”

“Maybe I am a hypocrite,” I spat. “But at least I continued to fight for those I cared about.”

“Precisely,” Noctis smirked. “Despite all that bright-eyed idealism you once had, despite that belief that anyone and everyone could get along, at the very end you threw away those ideals and succumbed to your own selfishness.”

I glared at Noctis, and she glared back at me. We held this deadlocked stance for a good couple moments, neither of us flinching from the other’s gaze.

“It doesn’t matter who they are,” Noctis spoke. “At the very core all hearts are made out of the same substance.”

“…”

There was no need to respond.

It was a truth I already knew.

But out of my own stubbornness, I refuse to acknowledge that truth.

“And that’s precisely why I find you so interesting.”

I grimaced at hearing this Witch call me ‘interesting.’ “I doubt that psychoanalyzing my decisions is the point of this little visit, so could you just get to it and tell me what you want from me already?”

Noctis laughed. “There’s absolutely nothing in particular that I want from you, I was just beginning to grow bored with the story that’s been playing out so far. You must remember that it’s the second time through for me, so if I could I’d just like to fast-forward through all the boring parts and just skip to the most interesting ones.”

“You’re not the one controlling the story though, not this time,” I muttered. “For the moment, you and I are nothing but silent observers waiting for our roles to come to light.”

Noctis smiled. “You must understand, my dearest maiden, that my role doesn’t come until the very end of this story. So it’s understandable to be bored when it’s not even halfway through.”

“I can’t make it go any faster,” I scoff.

“Which is exactly why I wished to hold this conversation with you.” Noctis replied. “A mysterious intermission between the players who hide backstage, discussing matters so far removed from the moments at hand! Isn’t it exactly the type of interesting thing that provides a nice break from everything thus far?”

I shrugged. What this Witch finds interesting is something that I scarcely care about. “I think it’d just be annoying to have a character who was never mentioned nor introduced before suddenly appear out of the blue to discuss these matters. If something’s already complicated then there’s no need to add in even more characters to make things even more complicated.”

“But I’ve been in this story since the very beginning,” Noctis smiled. “Besides, complications are fascinating, are they not?”

“Only if those complications are easy enough to follow.”

“Isn’t that a paradox?” Noctis smirked. “Easy complications.”

“Better than complicated complications,” I counter.

“Touché.” Noctis stretched out her hooves and relaxed in her chair. “But I suppose you’re right, in a sense. Too many complicated asides will just make things annoying to the point where the story no longer progresses.” The shadows began to overtake her, bringing her back into the depths from whence she came. “Perhaps I’ll just take a nice little nap for now, since this little exchange of ours was enough to keep me alive until I’m needed once again.”

I sighed. Maybe this could mean I could watch over the story in peace.

“Oh yeah, one last thing before you go off into your slumber.”

…

Noctis’s leering grin lurched from the shadows. “A miracle isn’t a miracle if it happens more than once.”

A miracle isn’t a miracle if it happens more than once.

Noctis’s presence completely disappeared, and I was all alone once again.

Even though she was always watching.

The maiden must always be with her mistress, after all.

“This whole thing was pointless,” I muttered to nobody.

But still, I’ll be around to watch until the end of this story. This tragic story full of sin and despair. Hopefully the experience won’t be wasted on them… hopefully they’ll learn from my mistakes and give this story a happy ending.

A miracle isn’t a miracle if it happens more than once.

Noctis’s last words echoed within my mind.

The first miracle was the first maiden and her seal on Noctis. The second miracle was my preservation.

Therefore, the two of us were not miracles, but probable circumstances.

However, the two of us also succumbed to the same fates. We both became the maidens—no, servants of that accursed Witch.

But… maybe you’ll be different. Maybe you’ll be the miracle that will achieve what we couldn’t. Maybe the third cycle will never come to pass.

I glanced outside of the space I stood in, into the vast reaches of the collective unconsciousness. Somewhere out there stood a certain group of ponies, a group led by a unicorn who had been set to pursue a journey of truth.

It was a journey that had started a long time ago, before we had even been born. Maybe it’ll come to an end with you all.

Or maybe it’ll cycle on to the next, or even into eternity. Who can really say?