Castle of the Two Sisters
September 2, 6:06 PM
It was dark.
Even in the Everfree Forest, there were places where the light of the sun and moon could penetrate. And perhaps the darkness would break before the night’s end.
Just not yet.
Even in the darkness, he could see the pool of water was nearly just as he remembered it: still and serene. Not so much as a ripple could be seen upon its surface. The Everfree Forest was a place full of an unnerving quiet where the slightest sound would trigger a panic reaction in nearly everypony who was unfamiliar with the nature of the forest. But while the silence pervaded even here, it was not a nervous silence. It was peaceful and calm. It was a sanctuary from the oppressive nature of the rest of the woods; a place one could come to just sit and think.
Which was exactly what he had come to do.
Nighthawk set his saddlebags upon the ground and pulled out a spherical object similar to (but larger than) one of the small spell orbs the Sentinels used in their launchers. His magic ignited for a moment, and the orb glowed with a gentle light, illuminating the surrounding area. He set it down and walked to the water’s edge. Peering out over the pond, he sighed.
Only one thing missing.
Last time he had been here, he had come within inches of his death, incredibly, by the hoof of Blitz. And he wouldn’t have argued the reason that Blitz had to perform such an action. However, by some kind of miracle, he had withheld his judgment upon Nighthawk, apparently based solely on a mysterious apparition that revealed itself in the form of a flower: the Everfree Lily.
He had often wondered how a flower, magical as it allegedly was, could have affected Blitz to the point that he showed mercy to one who so thoroughly deserved none. He had asked Blitz about it many times. Something had happened involving that flower, but each time he brought it up, Blitz merely looked at him with a face that was a distinct mix of pain and guilt, but he never gave a direct answer. Instead, he would always say, “It showed me two things that I hated and made me choose between the two.”
It wasn’t the most encouraging of answers.
Even so, nopony could deny the change that had come over Blitz following his encounter. He seemed more…solemn. He was still a jokester, but he was more prone to silence than he had been. He rarely spoke of himself, and when he did, it was generally in regards to what he could do for another. He had always spoken and acted with passion, but now there was a definite conviction that accompanied his every word. And deep within his eyes, a light pulsed faintly. But if you looked long enough, you could tell that it wasn’t something dim: it was as though it was veiled or hidden, like it was restrained or stored deep within himself. But it was there…and it was powerful.
Nighthawk envisioned Blitz sitting beside him on that night when they beheld the flower together following their battle. He remembered his student’s words perfectly: “I don’t remember how the legend actually goes, probably because it’s a rhyme and I’m not very good with those. But the story goes that it only blooms in ‘times of greatest need.’”
Well…I’ve certainly got a need. So, what else do I have to do?
The Sentinels of Harmony. The name still made him shiver. He had gone along with it when the Princesses had suggested it, but the connotation of a “sentinel” was that of a watchpony…one who was on the lookout, alert for all things. And yet, they took this name for themselves in the wake of a plot that had started with one of their own—one that nopony had imagined, much less seen coming. It almost felt like a slap of irony straight to his face.
What was worse was that he was expected to serve as a leader. Trucker (mercifully) had accepted the role of commander of the entire group, but Nighthawk had been appointed as the direct overseer of the nine-pony team known as the Wayfarers: a position he accepted only under the condition that Blitz would serve as his lieutenant. A condition that Blitz, from all appearances, had gladly accepted.
But the truth was that Nighthawk was no leader. More than anypony left from the Alicorn Guard, he identified himself as an unwitting traitor: one who had not been strong enough to prevent Ghost from using him against his friends, and as a result, he had nearly killed many innocent ponies, and two very important ones, to boot.
“How am I supposed to lead when I’m nothing more than a traitor with a second chance?” he wondered aloud. Maybe if he voiced his thoughts, the flower would appear. Maybe it couldn’t read his thoughts and had to be told what the problem was.
Or maybe he was just overthinking it.
“Blitz would never admit it, but I think he knows the truth: he’s destined to lead the Sentinels one day,” Nighthawk explained to the stillness. “But he’s just so apprehensive about taking a position of authority. It’s almost as if something about it scares him. And I’m willing to wait for him to come around to realize what he’s supposed to be. But while we wait, I really can’t help but believe that there has to be somepony better-suited to lead than myself. I’ve already demonstrated that I can’t be trusted.”
His words seemed to hang in the air for entire seconds, as though the trees and pond were taking their sweet time in accepting his monologue. As the sound of his voice finally gave way to the quiet again, he picked up where he had left off. “I usually say that it’s because of the whole thing in the battle with Blitz, and that’s kinda true, but I can tell that not everypony believes that—especially Razor. She fought with Blitz over Canterlot, so she has the same excuse as me. But she doesn’t use it. Probably because she knows that it’s not the real reason.”
He sighed and began to pace along the water’s edge. “I couldn’t handle the possibility of somepony being better than me. I got defensive when my status was threatened. I was immature—and that’s something we can’t have in a leader. But,” he continued, barely aware of his surroundings, “here I am again, trying to be a leader. Needing to be a leader. I can’t turn back, but I don’t trust myself to go forward. So, since Blitz got the help he needed here,” he concluded, “I thought maybe I could do the same. I’m in desperate need of some sage advice.”
He sat down, satisfied with his argument, and stared out over the water, eagerly anticipating the coming of the Everfree Lily. He really had no idea what to expect: would it simply rise out of the water? Would it appear in a flash of light? Or would it fall like a star from the heavens? Blitz had never told him how the flower had first appeared. The anticipation nearly made him forget the reason he had come in the first place.
Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Thirty.
No flower.
He rose to his hooves and began to pace again. OK, now what?
The sound of hoofsteps behind him grabbed his attention. He instinctively went into survival mode, perfectly aware of the nature of the creatures of the Everfree Forest. He forced himself to continue his pacing, trying to convince his visitor that he was still unaware of its approach.
The creature continued to close in. He could hear each step: thirty feet…twenty…fifteen...
As soon as it reached ten, he heard a rustle in the bushes behind him. In a flash, he triggered his magic and spun on the spot, sending embers of magic swirling around him as he came face to face with his uninvited guest.
But no sooner did he see its face than he was forced to silence his magic. “Hey, I remember you,” he said, feeling somewhat embarrassed by his outburst. “Zecora, right?”
The zebra smiled and acknowledged him with a nod of her head. “I did not expect to find anypony here, truth be told,” she began. “To come here alone, you must be quite bold.”
Nighthawk shrugged. “I don’t know about that. Desperate feels more like the right word,” he explained.
Zecora strolled over and sat down on the shore of the pond. For the first time, Nighthawk noticed a gentle lapping of the water against the lip of the pond, though he still didn’t see any ripples on the surface. “You have come here to find something, have you not?” she asked, though he didn’t respond. “Tell me, dear Firebolt, have you found what you sought?”
Firebolt. He had forgotten that was how he had been introduced to Zecora. It was his real name; not the codename the Sentinels used. It was his identity to those who were related to him or didn’t know him as well as they thought they did. Since the dissolution of the Alicorn Guard, the codenames of its members carried little meaning, though they continued to use them—either out of habit or out of fondness. Nighthawk didn’t mind.
“I’m afraid not,” he answered at last. “Last time I was here, a friend of mine had an encounter that changed his life, I think. I was hoping I could find the same kind of epiphany here, too. Guess I’m not doing it right,” he shrugged.
“With veiled words and vague terms you speak,” Zecora answered, and her eyes twinkled. “Do you not refer to our mutual friend Sky Streak?”
He winced. He had no need for secrecy anymore—the entire point of the Sentinels was to be the face of harmony and compassion to Equestria. He was just so used to masking the truth in his speech that it was second nature. “Sorry,” he apologized, taking a seat next to his visitor. “Yes, I’m talking about Bli—Sky. He and I had a bit of a—heated exchange out here, but he was the better pony in the end. In almost every way. He found something out here when he needed it most. And I really feel like I need what it has to offer, too.”
His striped companion gave him a curious look. “Forgive me, but at the risk of sounding silly…was this ‘thing’ he found an Everfree Lily?”
Nighthawk couldn’t hide his surprise. How could she possibly have known about that? “Well…yeah, it was. How’d you figure that out?”
Zecora merely chuckled and stared out over the pond. “My reputation as a soothsayer would indeed be quite poor, if I could not speak of that which exists just outside my own door!”
“Ah,” Nighthawk replied, “of course. So, does that mean that you were the one that told him about it in the first place? He certainly seemed to know you quite well.”
“Of our friendship, indeed, there is a great deal to tell. But as for the Lily…yes, I told him of that, as well,” Zecora confirmed. She looked at him appraisingly. “He has excelled in formidable tasks, to be sure, but I see in your eye you know he is destined for more.”
“Of course he is,” Nighthawk admitted. “That’s obvious. Bl—”
He quickly caught himself. He had known Sky as “Blitz” for so long (and still did, for that matter), it was hard to call him anything else. “Sky has become quite a unique character. Not that he ever wasn’t, of course. But he’s grown beyond anything I ever thought I’d see. He’s powerful, courageous, loyal, clever…just what everypony wants in a leader.”
“I wonder if Sky Streak would see it that way, if he could hear what you have to say.”
Nighthawk couldn’t help but smile. “You really do know him well, don’t you? Sky doesn’t want to be a leader, I think. There’s something about it that…I don’t know. I think he’s scared of failing as a leader. He seems…unsure about it. Like he questions his own ability to a degree. I know he can do it—he’s shown that much himself. He just needs to see that for himself.”
Zecora gave him a scrutinizing gaze, and while it was not cold, it made him feel uncomfortable—as though she pulled back the veil of his mind and saw every truth hidden there. “Sky has his struggles and burdens, but you speak as though he endured those thoughts alone,” she explained. “But I see before me another pony who views his past as something for which he must atone.”
Nighthawk held up a hoof in protest. “Whoa, now, let’s not go jumping to conclu—”
“Sky Streak is apprehensive as a leader, perhaps from fear or from shame,” Zecora cut him off sharply. “But while that may be the case, can you deny that you are precisely the same?”
Nighthawk blinked. He hadn’t really put it together, but…he and Blitz were struggling with the same thing, in a manner of speaking. Something had happened that had caused Blitz to resist whenever offered a position of authority. And even though he didn’t necessarily know exactly what was on his mind, he was still familiar with the feeling of inadequacy: feeling less than equal to the task you were presented with.
“Huh,” Nighthawk muttered. “I guess we are.”
Zecora seemed to smile, but he wasn’t finished. “However, that doesn’t really help me.” He hesitated, then decided to throw caution to the wind and reveal his mind to the zebra mare. “Sky isn’t in a position of leadership like I am. He still hasn’t come to terms with that. I have all these ponies looking up to me, and I don’t know if I can handle that. That’s why I’m here. I came to find the Everfree Lily because I’m scared to let everypony down. And what could be more important than that?”
The striped pony rose again to her hooves and approached where Nighthawk stood. “At last you speak the full truth with your own voice,” she said. “Tell me: did you come to your position through appointment or by choice?”
“Er…” Nighthawk stammered. Even when he was expecting it, Zecora had a certain...peculiarity around her that was often unsettling. The rhyming was part of it, to be sure, but there was more to it than that. It was as though she was constantly one step ahead of everypony else…and no one knew how she did it. Some called it mysterious. Others called it curious. Even more said it was unexplainable.
But most just called it weird.
He shook his head free of the tangent and returned to Zecora’s question. “Well…I guess I sort of had a choice in the matter, but it was mostly by appointment. The ponies I’m supposed to lead suggested names of those they thought would be good leaders, and Princess Celestia approached us about taking up those positions. I was one of them. Sky and another pony were the other two.”
Zecora came to a stop in front of him and shook her head. “The evidence is before you, yet you choose to be naïve,” she said softly. “All those ponies express their faith in you, and yet it is you who does not believe.”
“Naive?” Nighthawk asked, caught off-guard. “Naïve about what?”
“The leadership is yours, so fulfill that you must, but you doubt your fellow ponies…and the object of their trust,” Zecora explained in her uniquely confounding manner.
Nighthawk remained silent, slowly trying to untie the knot Zecora’s words had left in his brain. “The…object of their trust…wait. You mean me?”
The zebra finally smiled in full, and he could see the sympathy etched across her face. “Perhaps you need to understand what Sky came to realize: that you are criticized most severely when you look with your own eyes.” She gently began to run her hoof through the dirt, slowly drawing or writing something. “Truth be told, Sky told me what happened here on that fateful night, but speaking with you has brought even more to light. Your faults and failures may seem like disqualifications at first glance, but you are likely a better pony for needing that second chance.”
“How can you say that? If Sky really did tell you everything that happened, then you have to know that I probably deserved to die!” he blurted angrily. He slammed his hoof into the ground, throwing a thin veil of dust and bright magic embers into the air. “I attacked innocent ponies and nearly killed several of them! All because I couldn’t see the danger right under my nose! And I despised Sky! He was a threat to my prestigious legacy! I was blind and petty! How can they look at me, knowing all of that, and still want me as a leader?”
Zecora continued to draw in the dirt, undeterred by Nighthawk’s self-loathsome outburst. “Perhaps it is because, on that night, Sky gave you a second chance when he chose to forgive. And now your team, needing their own second chance, looks to you to show them how to live.”
“Them? They don’t need second chances. They didn’t do anything wrong,” Nighthawk countered.
“No? Or do you need me to remind, that you were not the only one in that room to leave your guilt behind?” Zecora answered in a hushed voice.
Nighthawk’s head jerked up, staring with wide eyes at the zebra. “You…how…did Sky tell you about that, too?”
He thought he saw her smirk, but in the dim light, it was hard to tell. But he had to give her words serious consideration. He had never really thought about it that way, but they all really did have things they regretted. It probably wasn’t a stretch to believe that they all felt a certain measure of shame for being a part of Ghost’s scheme, willingly or no. He had just been too busy thinking about his own issues to think about anypony else.
“You…you think they’re dealing with the same things I’m feeling right now?” he asked, feeling a new pang of guilt at his self-centeredness.
“I believe that they look to you because you can be the perfect contrast: the redeemed one who lives free from the shadow of his past,” Zecora said, setting her hoof flat on the ground again, having finished her art in the dirt. Nighthawk looked down and found that it was not a picture at all, but three simple words. Three words that carried the weight of the world for him.
“Long live forgiveness,” he read softly.
The images flooded back to him in a vivid picture show of flashes from that day. The remaining seventeen members of the Alicorn Guard, along with Solace and Mystic, had taken a solemn vow all together, leaving their cutie marks etched into the stone floor around a circular seal. And within the circle were seven words that still gave him chills.
Here lies our guilt. Long live forgiveness.
“You may not believe you are qualified, but you have much in common with Sky Streak: you both struggle with your place in the world, when you are both incredibly unique,” Zecora explained. “And you both have struggled with your failures, thinking they have made you weak. But the opposite is true: they have prepared you for the future…and that is what your friends truly seek.”
“So…” he began, rising to his hooves.
“To focus upon your mistakes is to invite depression and sorrow,” the mare continued. “So do not dwell upon them: strive for tomorrow.”
He contemplated in silence. He wasn’t perfect; that much was obvious. But if what Zecora was saying was true, that was exactly what he needed to be: imperfect. Flawed. Because whenever somepony made a mistake or messed up, he would already have the knowledge that came from having been there…and knowing the way back to redemption.
He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Alright,” he said. “I think I get it. Thanks for helping, Zecora.” He smiled sheepishly. “I think I probably should have known most of that, but it’s hard to see from the inside. You know, I think you probably give better advice than some crazy flower, anyway.”
She laughed aloud—a sound that made Nighthawk’s muscles relax, which was odd, considering he hadn’t realized how tense he had been. “You are certainly welcome, my good Firebolt. It is my pleasure to offer advice to any filly or colt.”
“I hardly qualify as a colt,” he quipped, stretching his wings, “though I may have to take you up on your offer. Who knows what other problems I’ll conjure up in the coming weeks and months?”
“Problems for another day,” Zecora answered. “But for now, you should be on your way.”
“Agreed,” he nodded, stuffing his light orb back into his saddlebags before slinging them across his back. “I think one pony is enough for the Everfree Forest. I’d hate to cramp your style.” He looked up to the dark boughs of the trees above him, and he found that a tiny glimmer of starlight twinkled back at him. A smile crept to his lips as he looked down again to Zecora and bowed respectfully. “Take care, Zecora.”
She inclined her head towards him in response, and with that, he rocketed through the canopy of the forest, racing into the sky above the forest. The sun’s last few rays painted the horizon in a mellow orange color as Luna’s moon rose from the opposite side of the sky to greet the stars. Blitz, myself…Mystic. The more I think about it, the more I realize…our failures help make us better. They show us ways that we can grow. There’s probably no denying that Mystic is a better princess now than she was before the whole Nightmare Moon thing. And Blitz…well, there’s no question there.
He looked ahead. Canterlot glistened like a jewel against the mountainside in the distance. You’ve both given me fine examples to follow. Here’s hoping I’m a good learner. Everypony’s looking to me to be the leader.
Far behind him, on a small cloud barely visible above the treetops in the evening sky, another figure watched as the fiery orange pegasus sped back to Canterlot. He was nearly completely invisible, thanks to the cloak he wore, which blended perfectly with the cloud beneath his hooves.
He had been listening to the conversation below. He hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but when Zecora had informed him that there was somepony else there, he had taken cover to intercept any potentially dangerous opponents. Thankfully, the intruder had been none other than Nighthawk, and his speech had initially been innocent. But as the conversation continued, he found himself unable to tear himself away from listening. It was heartbreaking to listen to, but at the same time…refreshing. Whether he knew it or not, Nighthawk had come so far already. And he was on the right track.
The pony smiled beneath the hood of his cloak. “You’ll do just fine,” Sky said, turning and vanishing into the night.