She erupted from the temple, from the trees that shot forth from her body, and she exploded into an array of lights with her wings spreading fully.

Another tremendous roar joined her in her dance, Mothra twirling and severing the storm to bring forth the sparkling stars of the night. The glow of the moon made her appear like an arising angel, the burst of her wings cascading an array of heavenly hues across the Forbidden Jungle. Greens, blues, and now violets. Bright oranges and yellows. So bright she resembled the sun.

The masses gazed up at her, emerging from the tents and basking under her light. They saw as not even the storm could conceal her. Not even the darkness could keep her light at bay. With every flap of her wings, more and more light emerged onto a darkening world. Mothra turned to face the darkness fully, and could sense every vile, evil, damnable force growing in the heart of Equestria. The evil called to her, threatened her, offered her a freedom so many more had been deceived to believe.

A freedom she knew to be false. All falsehoods crying from the usurper.

And so, ignoring the false ruler, the arisen tyrant, Mothra took to the heavens and instead chose life over death. She chose instead to follow her true king.