I look at the letter on my table. Around it are dozens more, brought to me on my request. Doctors, professionals, and unicorns, all responding to my inquiry, as they always have. It’s one of the few perks to royalty, that you don’t have to wait. I force myself to glance at the sink in my private chambers, but cannot bring myself to smile, even at the jokes running through my head. My chest is tight, and I am too sad to laugh.
I let my eyes run over the page again, breathing in a deep breath. The news is bad, but it says it will be so far away, and there may even still be a chance! But how is one supposed to react in such a case? How can one, willing to admit that seven years is not only a long time, but also a blink of an eye, help the one who is hurting? I hate the thought, but I need to do something. My chest is tight, and ignoring this only makes it tighter.
I look to the side, considering a call to my sister. While she does not know the particulars, and I must stay quiet about them anyways, she could help me figure out what it is I need to know. This is not her burden though. She was not reached out to, and thus, it is not my privilege to do so for her. My chest is tight, and the walls draw in closer.
I trot over to my bookcase, and smile at the letters that are crammed onto so many shelves. It’s the life of the one who now cries in her home, horrified by the future, while I can only think of the past, and try to retreat to it, where times were happier, maybe even simpler. When these scrolls brought me more joy than any other in the world. My chest is tight as I think about them all simply fading away.
I walk to my bed, considering some sleep. In the morning, I may have clarity, and a solution to her problem. Maybe I’ll somehow figure out how to solve every problem in the universe while I’m at it. The silk sheets remind me of her talks of children, and her wish to pass on her knowledge. My chest is tight, unable to articulate my sorrow for the child she dreamed of.
I step to the window, and spread my wings. Night is approaching, but there is still time for me to fly, if I had to. The wind may clear my head, and I know of some nice food stands that usually will let lost travelers save a coin at this time, even if I did not need to. Would I just be trying to run from my problems that way, akin to what I used to use cake for before I met Twilight Sparkle? My chest is tight, because I know the problem won’t go away that easily.
I turn back to the desk as another letter falls onto it. It’s her new student, somepony who has been getting close to her, named Starlight Glimmer. She is talking about how wonderful her teacher is, and thanking me for letting us talk. It breaks my heart though, as all I want to do is tell her to go to her teacher, and to wrap her up in the biggest hug she can. Make sure the purple mare I know isn’t left to sob in the dark any longer. My chest is tight, because I must still respect the one I care for.
I look into the sky, admiring the fields of stars that dot the orange sky. My light is faded just enough for them to come out, and soon, her time will be here. Will it be during this time that her time is up? Will her name be a premonition as well, and will she go out with a bust of pain like a supernova, or simply go out because her body had nothing left to burn? My chest is tight, because I hope so badly for the second, despite hating both.
I watch as the last rays of the sun go behind the mountains in the distance. I’m supposed to go to bed now, continue with my day as if nothing has happened. I can’t though. Not now. Not when the one I treasure is being destroyed. My chest is tight, for the magic I need is strong, but my emotions stronger.
I blink as I look past the sparkles in my eyes, and instead, look at the Sparkle of my eye. She is staring at me with the same, purple eyes that she always had. To think they could suddenly go out, be blown away so many years before her time, almost destroys me, but instead, I put my hoof out. My chest is tight, for she is still her, but may soon never be the same anyways.
She begins to cry, pulling at my heartstrings more and more as her hoof wraps around mine. She isn’t simply scared, she is terrified. Terrified of the unknown, of the uncertainty, and of the pain. My chest is tight, because I am too.
I pull her in, my breaths shaking as I try to collect what things to say. She begins to tell me how she doesn’t know what to say, or how to tell the ones she holds closer than even her own life that she may only have so much time to give them that one life she so gladly would. My chest is tight, because I know of the good she has caused.
I lean down, and whisper to her that I’ll be there, and that I’ll always be there. That even if she does fade away before her time, that we will remember and cherish her, as we have done with friends of hers in the past. Even my hug only slows the tears, and does not stop them. My chest is tight, because I know, no matter what I say, no matter what I do, I cannot stop those terrible tears, or the twisted nightmare that causes them. I can only close my wings around her, and tell her sweet nothings to make her feel better.