//------------------------------// // Epilogue // Story: Remember the Moon // by Leviathan //------------------------------// I lifted myself to stand above the grave. Loose soil fell over my hooves as I did so, staining my coat. “I suppose that concludes our business, young Rainfall. My story ends there and starts again with you.” My voice was quiet, void of passion. I couldn’t stay, sadly. I turned to leave the graveyard, trotting slowly and without purpose. “You abandon her just like that?” The voice was piercingly sharp and punctured the air like a needle. I turned my head to the look at the source of the discretion. A dozen feet away stood a white mare. The one from the woodlands. A mare with a coat so blazingly white that it was a wonder I had not seen her earlier. It was quite a surprise to see her there at that exact moment. From what I had heard previously the mare had awoken from her comatose state and fled from the hospital. She had feared interrogation. Presumably she had left Canterlot. I suppose the pony who filed that report did not take a mothers love into account. Nor that she might not have the actual means to leave Canterlot. From what I knew she and Rainfall had lived in poverty, only able to find the bare essentials while moving from one cheap building to the next. “Miss~” “Rainfall’s mother.” Said the unicorn dryly. Apparently she doesn’t like her name very much... “Yes, well then I must inform you that there is currently an investigation revolving around the events that transpired. And you are needed for questioning.” The unicorn looked towards me angrily. Quite angrily. “I don’t care about that! But you cannot abandon my little girl just like that! She adored you. She absolutely adored you! Everyday after she saw you she would come back to me cheerful and happy, raving to me about the stories you told her. You will not just walk away from her like she didn’t matter!” I could hear the pain in her voice. Grief was a powerful poison. “How do you feel right now? Angry, sad, anguished, pained? Do you feel as if a torrent of emotional torment is raging inside you?” The look on the mare’s face was more than enough to reveal the truth. “What you feel now is grief. A poison more powerful and venomous than anything physical. You grieve for one death.” I said. “I am, however, immortal.” “So what?” Asked the sullen mare. “But you see, grief is also an antidote. It works at us over time, helping us cope with our loved one’s death until, one day, we just forget them. I do not want to forget those I have lost. Because if I do, then I’ll slowly become hollow, my soul fading away as those closest to me perish. And I would forget each one through that horrid poison you are contaminated with. Until one, fateful day, where I lose myself completely and turn on my own ideals. And that is why I cannot grieve your daughter. That is why I cannot feel that hollow pain. Instead I have to live as is.” It was the truth. I could not allow myself to cope. I could not allow the pain to heal. “But you can’t just walk away from her! You can’t just say goodbye!” Screamed the mare, voice broken and shattered. “You can’t just leave her...I-I- can’t just say goodbye...” I looked at the mare and gave her a sad smile. A sad, but hopeful one. “A very wise friend once told me something. Goodbyes are hardly permanent.” “Who exactly was this friend?” Flowing Wind drooped to the ground, tears flowing down her cheeks and staining the earth. “A recently deceased one.” I turned my head forward. “Your daughter shall always remain in my memory, as will you.” With that I walked away, leaving the crying mare to her own faculties. She would have to sort herself out. I could see the form of the castle on the horizon, outlined against the pale twilight. I looked to the general direction of my room, thinking of those whom I had known. Thinking of what had been lost. And whether anything worth gaining had come from it. Friendship is such a lonely word. Such a solitary thought. In its truest sense it provides us with a lasting bond, something enjoyable to live with. Yet, one would have to be a fool to not realize the risks of such a hazardous bond: The grief that comes when that bond is broken. Because, in the end, all friendships are broken. Whether it be by the forces of time, betrayal, or the world, it will always die away. Not to say you will forget about it, though. No, quite the opposite. It will become a part of you, for better or for worse. It will influence you, drive you towards who and what you are. All it is, all it comes down to when regarding friendship, is the challenge. Can you, or can you not, survive it? Whatever your answer is it will be life-changing, I assure you. Friendship is such a wonderful, horrible thing. I scraped up a bit of dirt with my hoof as I walked. That was all I ever seemed to be left with in the end. Dirt and wit. A lonely pony’s companion. The days that followed were plain and easy. The attempt on my life was not repeated(immediately), though Celestia and I still remained cautious. I managed to visit a few of Equestria’s towns and villages, even paying a visit to the Elements of Harmony on Nightmare Night. It went about as one would expect, chaotic and strange, but ultimately an uplifting experience that made for some entertainment. Though, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at chickens the same way. By far the my greatest discovery was bubble wrap. That stuff is quite incredible. After a time I was accepted rather than tolerated. I even managed to make a few friends within the nobility. Though this didn’t change ponies view on sun versus Moon. I was still Celestia’s inferior in the eyes of the nobility and my subjects. This time around I did not let that poison me, though. As I said before, friendship affects us. It changes us, molds us into what we are. It takes our pathetic psyche and causes it to evolve into something...more. Whether it ends well or not, nopony could know. The reason I bother to mention friendship is because I think the reason that I have grown past such venom is because of that young filly I met. That one small filly who reached out, becoming my friend, even giving up her life in my defense. She defended me, not my image, or my royal blood, but me. She chose to be loyal to me. That meant something in the end. So what if I was considered Celestia’s inferior now? With time opinions change, ponies grow, and new ideas come. If one young, fearful filly was willing to lay down her life for me, then shouldn’t I, at the very least, honor her commitment? I will stand in my position, whatever it is, and watch over Equestria. Not for myself, not for Celestia, not even for duty, but to protect spirits and values like that. That is a promise I can keep. In the recent events I had tried to quantify life, trying to divulge what it meant. Was it simply a matter of living as Paradise thought? Surviving and rebelling? Or was there perhaps some deeper purpose to it? Were meaningful relationships the reason we all existed, why we were able to observe and investigate? That is where my mistake lied. I was trying to understand what life meant as a whole, not as a concept unique to each individual. What we get out of this life, how we interpret what it throws at us, the structure of how we perceive are surroundings: these things are life. There is no glue holding life together, no concrete reason behind it. We are forced, or at the very least, we think we are, to make our own rationale. That is where our mistake lies as a race. When we define something, it becomes devoid of meaning. When we solve a mystery it becomes common, unimportant. We simply don’t have the capacity to care and nurture something that doesn’t provide a mystery of some sort. If we were to discover a locked door leading to the of nature of existence, then we would care for it, oil the hinges, varnish the wood, polish the brass handle, all the while trying to find the key to that door. However, once we discovered that key the door itself would become irrelevant to us, a passing fad as it were. We would leave the door, allowing it to rot away, hinges becoming stale and rusted, the shining wood fading and splintering, allowing the brass to dull and become compressed. We would allow it to die away, thus killing the pathway. And in the end it isn’t really about what lies on the other end, it is about how you got there and if you can get back. It is my personal belief that in quantifying the mystery of life we would be depriving ourselves of the journey to the meaning, which, in my opinion, is a travesty in of itself! We have to allow some mysteries to unravel themselves, to reveal their secrets in their own time. Otherwise we might find that we are not mature enough to handle the truth hiding behind the frame. Only then will are studies lead to actual validity and majesty. We have to have grown to the point where we don’t just pass through the door, we remember the door. A day that is still a long time coming in my case. But for now I will content myself with the mysteries that I have resolved. Everything else will come in due time. Everything.