//------------------------------// // Alone // Story: Whispers // by Fire-Dash //------------------------------// Sometimes, when I sit still and gaze upon the world without blinking, I can watch it spin. It rotates slowly, cautiously. It creeps around to face the moon on one side, the sun on the other. It does not favour one over the other. It does not stay with the sun for longer than the moon. It is fair. Always fair. But planets are not ponies. Planets cannot love. Last rotation I had a dream. I had gone too long without sleep and collapsed in a crater just south of the dark. I dreamed my sister had come to visit. At first, I welcomed her. I raced towards her, ready for embrace. She gazed out at nothing with hollow eyes, cold and dim. Her mane laid flat, her wings drooped. She stared right past me. Through me. As though I didn't exist. When I finally reached her, I threw my forelegs around her shoulders, ready to hold on tight. I would hold on tighter than ever before and I would never, ever let go. Never let go. But I slipped through her intangible frame and hit the ground. I fell to the dust and it rose up all around, engulfing us in a shroud of pale white. Her eyes were glowing. "Sister," she said in an echoing tone. "Your moon is no longer needed, you are nothing. You borrow my light but you are not worthy of it. You are not worthy of you title. Sister, you are nothing." I am nothing. I woke with a start. I had to look around to make sure I was alone. Still alone. I've been exploring the craters for a while now, but I am doing so gradually. I don't want to become sick of my surroundings too soon. So long as there is still one spot left I haven't explored, I will be alright. The dips and dives and swirls of the landscape remind me of snowflakes in winter. None are identical. Some slope softly down towards a patch of smooth, downy dust. Some are jagged cliffs, reaching up to the sky, then plummeting past the ground, into the cold, close to the core. Others are nothing more than specks, rounded, still larger than I am but so, so insignificant compared to the great caverns that surround them, stretching on for miles. And dotting the area between them all are hoofprints. My hoofprints. Circling and twisting and entwining themselves with the slopes and dips and rises of the land. I trace a circle with my hoof, then another, and another. All varying sizes. All part of one giant mosaic of slate grey and faded white. The dots circle the craters to form a letter. An A. My hooves glide across the plains, dragging in the dust, forming an L, an O, and in one final stretch, an E. Alone. And seconds after I finish, a strong, impossible gust of wind wipes it clean. She's still there. Still watching. How long has it been now? More than a month, less than two. That would make it fall, then. all the leaves have begun to turn. Red and orange and yellow, as the trees yawn and stretch out their branches, preparing for sleep. After many tireless months of heat, they are ready for their sleep. Winter, I realize, is a lot like the night. It is colder and quieter and much more mysterious. It is more feared and hated and hidden from. It is barren and dark. It is long and harsh. But it is amazing. Breathtaking. Winter is something of wonder. Something of beauty. Dreamlike and unknown. Misunderstood. Different. And things that are different are so often, so terribly often feared. But for now, it is fall. And the ponies will be harvesting and throwing festivals and having fun. They will enjoy the scenery, the colours. They will sing and they will dance and they will live. Life goes on. Without sleep, without love, without colour. I wonder if the trees have dreams. Days and days and days turn around. They spin and whirl and flip so fast, I don't know what to do. I'm having trouble standing. The moon spins so much faster than I'm used to. It's maddening. I wonder if I could die. Not that I plan on killing myself. Just a thought. Something I've been wondering for a while. I am immortal, but am I indestructible? Is there a way to end it? If there was, would Celestia have killed me? Or did she simply send me here out of pity? If my body is destroyed, can it be resurrected? I do not know. I never asked. I wonder if Celestia still raises the moon. I wonder if the ponies of Equestria still shy from the night. There's nothing left for them to fear. The moon is dead. I narrow my eyes, staring down at the world. Celestia does not miss me. Why should she care about a sister who turned and grew colder than ice? I am nothing. I feel so empty. It is a disturbing feeling. I feel as though the world has turned to ice. Everypony frozen over. I am all that is left. Only me. Alone. It is a cold feeling. All I knew, all I left behind could be gone forever. And I do not care. Hollow. Deep. The craters stretch on. The sky goes forever. But who mourns for Luna? I have to shake my head. Have to clear it out. These thoughts disturb me. They are too close to how I felt when I rose against my sister. But I will stay strong. I will not break again. I will not. Life goes on. I will rise again, Celestia. I will return. I have to. I will fly again, I'll be free again. I will live again. I will go on. And on. And on... And on. I wonder why the skies are so dark up here? Perhaps that is just the way they formed. Perhaps they are dead. There is no air to breathe. All I have is the illusion of breath. But there is magic. Even here. Even so far away from all that is, all I know. Even here, I can feel it. But I have none of my own. It is locked away somewhere deep inside. Somewhere I cannot reach. I wonder if such a lock could be broken.