Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Nothing but you and the air. The city of Canterlot stretches before you, gleaming gold and white, towers and plazas basking in the glare of the sun. It’s ancient. It’s majestic.
It’s home.
You know this city. You know the ponies that live here, strutting about with their noses in the air, pretending to be better than the rest of the kingdom. You know that they have to convince themselves of that before they can convince anypony else, and even then it's hollow.
You also know that they are chained, and you are free.
Oh, how you know this city.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
They don't even notice you up here, poised on the edge of a rooftop. On the ground, they would look down on you, a simple earth pony. Scoff at your lack of what they call style, or class. On the ground, they see you as a commoner.
But up here?
Up here you’re untouchable.
You are the ruler, and this cityscape is your domain.
Far below you, Equestria’s elite carry on with their wealthy, lavish and utterly lonely lives.
Breathe in, breathe out.
With a smile on your face, you step off the edge.
Your hooves take the brunt of the fall as you land on the rooftop below. You sink down with the impact, going into a crouch, and then spring forward, using the jump to gain momentum in your run. As you reach the edge of the roof, you once again see the sprawling capital of Equestria, but no longer is it just a city. It is a path. Over smokestacks, across rooftops, running, jumping, climbing, laughing and living, all in a blur of motion and freedom.
It’s not a perfect run. You slip and you stumble and you knock your knees against the white stone of the buildings beneath you. You couldn’t care less. After all, nopony was watching you. Their heads were held too high to see you up here, too absorbed in the luxuries of life to remember to actually live.
The wonderful irony of this strikes you, and you burst out laughing, not caring who hears. Leaping off a chimney, you land on an elegant balcony, the corner of the next stretch of buildings just visible around the bend of this one.
Hopping forward, you turn the corner.
The laughter dies in your throat.
At the far end of the block, there lies a chasm. A jump farther than any of the others on your run.
A jump you know well.
Time and time again, you’ve attempted that jump, and time and time again, you fall. Bruises, cuts, the odd broken bone. It taunts you from a distance, daring you to try and fail again. You’re not even sure why you still try. There’s nothing particularly special about it. It’s merely a street where the distance between the buildings is wider than normal.
But that’s how life goes, isn’t it? The jump you don’t make, the test you don’t pass, the girl you don’t meet. There are some things in this world that just aren’t meant to be.
The question presents itself again. Why do you try? Why do you get up after every humiliating fall, brushing yourself off and wanting to jump once more?
What makes you think you’ll make it now, when you’ve failed every time before?
You don’t know.
You start running.
The white marble flies under your hooves as you pick up speed, barreling across the rooftops. Vaulting over a chimney, sliding under an overhang, you become one with the air. You don’t see the next jumps and ducks as much as you feel them. Your heart pounds in your chest, and the breath tears from your throat. You feel each ragged exhale being whipped from you, left behind in the wake of your speed.
You see the chasm yawning ahead, and a cold determination comes over you.
Determination...
...and fear.
Your mind is desperately warring with itself. You know that the jump is possible, but you also know that it isn’t. You can make it, and you can’t. You will and you won’t.
In the end, you come to the decision that you always do.
You can’t decide whether to jump or not, so you just concentrate on running. One hoof in front of the other, propelling you ever closer to your fate, whatever it may be.
The gap draws near.
Ten steps.
Six.
Three.
One.
You finally make up your mind, and decide to turn around and go home.
And then you jump.
You soar through the air, mind reeling, your heart in your throat and your mouth open in a silent shout.
At the apex of your leap, time slows to a crawl.
All your insecurities, all your failures come crashing down on you, pulling you toward the unforgiving street below.
Your brain tells you that you can’t.
You tell yourself that you can’t.
The world, harsh and unforgiving, tells you that you can’t.
Your heart tells you something different.
Legs outstretched, eyes closed, you plummet toward the ground...
...and land with a thud onto the opposite side of the chasm.
The pain is immediate; there’s a crunching sound as your face is slammed into the cold marble of the rooftop. Rolling and tumbling, you finally come to a stop, your broken snout staining the white stone a crimson red. You must have landed on your ankle wrong, a sharp pain is shooting up your leg. Gasping and panting, you silently try assess the damage to your body.
It hurts like hell.
But you’re alive.
Struggling to your hooves, you stumble to the edge of the roof to look at the building from which you leaped. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks.
You made it. You made the jump. The impossible jump, the jump that can’t be done, the one that’s seen you plummeting onto the hard pavement below time and time again. On this day, no different from any other, you suddenly do the impossible.
A broad smile grows across your face, and a sudden pain causes you to spit out a single tooth from your aching mouth.
You did the impossible, and nopony was around to see it.
At least, that’s what you thought.
A slight movement draws your gaze downward, towards the street beneath you. There, a lone figure stares up at you.
She couldn’t have been older than eight, maybe six or seven years old. She didn’t even have her cutie mark yet. It makes you wonder what the tiny lavender unicorn was doing out by herself, this close to dusk, with only a raggedy doll floating by her side. Her mane was a rich purple, with an adorable pinkish stripe running down it. Closer inspection revealed the same for her tail, and both were in the same clean, straight cut. Her eyes strike you the most, though. A deep, majestic indigo, they sparkled with a desire for...what? Knowledge? Power? You can’t be sure. They’re the eyes of a dreamer, the eyes of a student.
You wonder if she will be destined for great things one day.
Whatever the case, those twinkling eyes are still gazing up in awe at you. She must’ve seen the whole thing, from the jump to the fall.
She stares at you, and you stare right back.
Slowly, she lifts her right hoof.
Clip
Then the left one.
Clop
Again and again, she beats her hooves onto the ground, faster and faster, until you can recognize for what it is.
Applause.
In the age old pony tradition, this little filly is clapping for you. For what you’ve accomplished. She is alone in doing so. The sound of her hooves echo around the empty street, the sound of bones rattling against the rock.
You’ve never heard a more beautiful sound in your life.
Your eyes shimmering slightly, you turn your head, and you see the glorious sunset, painting the sky with vivid reds and oranges, setting the clouds aflame.
You may not have been blessed with the gift of wings.
But you’ll be damned if you won’t fly.