The swirling vortex of magenta fizzles out. Twilight stands alone, panting.
It's over.
Tendrils of shadow zig-zag before her eyes as she turns.
For sure, it's over.
All this war. All this destruction...
All because she stepped down centuries ago?
She sits on the ground, the grass brushing against her haunches as she watches what remains.
Just a few minutes prior, a second sun had formed on the horizon.
Only darkness lingers now.
They'd really done it.
In her absence, they harvested the very magic of the Tree of Harmony.
What's left of it, at least.
And turned it into a tool.
A beam of milky-black nothingness pierces her through the chest.
No.
A weapon.
To think she left Equestria in good hooves.
The ray of shadow fades, dissipating as if reality itself stitched itself whole again.
More wandering tendrils hang in the air.
It's over.
She closes her eyes.
Canterlot for sure is gone. Incinerated.
And subsequently enveloped in that same void that now spiderwebs through the air.
It's gone.
Another beam of darkness pierces her.
This time, she feels it.