The Forgotten: Magister

by Jatheus

Chapter VIII

Mestra Amymone sat for hours she had left off counting. The icy chill of winter had bitten her nose, making it feel as numb as her haunches which rested against the snow. The shadows had grown noticeably longer on the silky white terrain while she stared blankly ahead, the words engraved in stone having become a meaningless blur.

The memories from only a few weeks before haunted her mind. She had watched helplessly in those final days as her magister deteriorated. In spite of what he had told her and what she had seen, the mare hadn’t accepted what was coming. One morning, like the little bird they’d found in the summer, Magister Pyxidis was gone.

Mestra felt as though a piece of herself had gone with him. There was no joy in the world. How she managed to get through that day, the mare didn’t know. The sting of the loss had made each day after only sorrow and ashes, and so atop the big hill she sat.

A gust of wind penetrated her red sweater, causing the mare to shiver back into focus. Her eyes still resting on letters crudely carved in solid rock. She read them again, ‘Magister Pyxidis, Chief Unicorn of the Crystal Empire, loving husband and father. Mestra misses you forever.’

She’d felt the sentiment was appropriate, from things her magister had told her, but it didn’t make her feel any better. Nor had saying words over his lifeless body when she’d buried him. Food had lost flavor; learning new things came with no joy. Everything was emptiness.

The frigid breeze picked up again, compelling the mare to rise. She stood there a moment as some small measure of prickly feeling returned to her hindquarters. She cast a final glance at the grave, deciding to speak once more.

“I’m sad you had to go. You told me I can be sad. I came here and cried. It still hurts. This is the last day, just like you told me,” she sniffed, either from the cold or sorrow, she couldn’t tell. “I’ll come back when the seasons go. I miss you.”

Fresh tears welled up in Mestra’s eyes as she closed the distance and embraced the glacial stone. She let them freely fall, turning to walk back down the hill toward the cabin. The last thing the magister had requested was to be buried beside Eridani and Equulei. A difficult task, but the forgotten mare had felt compelled to honor it.

The frozen trudge back down the hill was its own misery. The naked branches of the trees felt as joyless as the pony that walked beneath them. The icy landscape, clothed in winter snow was quiet. The last time she’d seen it, there was a source of unspeakable joy for the wonders that she discovered around every corner. This day, everything seemed meaningless.

Mestra gained entrance to the cabin without difficulty, shedding her snow-covered boots and crochet layers as well. Though cold in the cabin, she would light a fire and soon be warmed.

The little glowing butterflies left their perch above the hearth and danced before the mare’s eyes like little flames in the air. The mare ignored them, tending to the wood in the fireplace and lighting it with flint the way her magister had taught her.

As the first sparks gave birth to tiny flames in the kindling beneath, the mare’s stomach growled loudly, causing her to wince from the pain. She had not taken provender with her up the hill, and she had stayed out most of the day. Eating without company caused the activity to lose much of its savor. It had become a strictly utilitarian function, a somber affair.

Mestra Amymone rummaged through the cupboards and found some oats, as well as dried apricots and figs. She ate them silently, remembering happier times with her magister.

The fire had grown by the time she finished, providing its warmth to the little cabin. The firelight was the only source of illumination as dusk faded from the windows.

The mare began to ponder what she might do next. Certainly there was much to learn, and with the icy weather outside, it wouldn’t be safe for her to stray too far from the cabin. She supposed she could stay there indefinitely, since she had already learned how to forage for food and tend the little house.

The mare shook her head, pushing the thought from her mind as she rose and walked to the shelf, finding the next book that she had not read. ‘Horseodotus, History of the Crystal Empire, Volume One’. She gently dusted the cover before she opened the ancient tome.

The contents were as dry and dusty as had been the outside. Names and dates of important events that held little meaning to Mestra, but she did find the mention of the Crystal Heart of interest.

A magical artifact that protected the empire since its foundation, driving away the frigid winds of the surrounding tundra, the Crystal Heart was powered by the love of the crystal ponies that lived within the fiefdom around the palace.

Her mind wandered a bit to something her magister had once told her. He’d said that ponies had two hearts. One was a part of their biology; it circulated blood through their bodies, taking fresh air from the lungs and expelling used air.

The second was a metaphor, which he’d described as a poetic picture that conveys an idea. The heart in that case being the center of emotions and feelings, love and hate.

Mestra felt a shiver work up her spine. The similarity for how the Crystal Heart worked and the emotional heart were simultaneously beautiful and sad to her. If the Crystal Empire hadn’t been lost, she might have liked to see the Crystal Heart someday.

Thought of her own future continued to plague her mind. In spite of her melancholy, she felt her magister wouldn’t like it if she stayed in this place. That still left the unanswered question. Where would she go?

The mare let out a sigh as she marked her place in the history lesson and returned it to the shelf. Wanting something else, she scanned around until a little pink ribbon caught her eye. It was sticking out of one of the smaller books, obscured because it was wedged between its owner and the volume beside it.

The book in question had no visible markings on the spine to identify what it might be, and so the mare pulled it from the shelf. There was no dust accumulated on it, though the binding did look rather well used. Mestra read a single word from the cover, ‘Journal’.

Following the pink silk ribbon, Mestra found it marking a page near the back of the journal. The words scrawled within looked familiar to the mare. Her heart fluttered. The writing was instantly recognizable as that of Magister Pyxidis.

She read, “Mestra, it is my hope that you will find this after I am gone. The things I have been teaching you were to prepare you for the greatest adventure that could lie ahead: your life.”

The surprise that Mestra felt from the discovery of the message left her feeling overwhelmed as emotions churned within. Fresh tears welled up, springing forth and running down the mare’s face. She was careful to not let them drip on the journal, the message from her magister.

“Ultimately, it will be up to you what path you choose to walk. I wish I’d had more time to train you up, to equip you for the challenges you will face, but wishing for a thing does not make it so. I don’t know your path forward. But consider one thing. Before you became forgotten, you were somepony else. You had family, friends, an entire other life before you met me. Clearly it was a life that had some great sorrows, but perhaps there was love there as well. You may have family that misses you as you now miss me.”

The heaving emotions were nearly too much, and Mestra’s vision blurred, preventing her from continuing for a moment as she wiped her eyes clear.

“In any case, if you choose to leave the cabin, to seek out other ponies, the nearest town is due south. There is a book on cartography and navigation on the shelf that you should read. It would also serve you well to be wary of strangers. Not everypony is kind and helpful.”

She turned the page, dismayed to discover she was nearing the end of the message.

“Whatever you choose, do an old stallion proud, and remember the things that I taught you. Remember the good times. Remember the sad times. Unpleasant though they are, you can learn so much from them that they are an invaluable source of wisdom. You can overcome because you are strong. Farewell, Mestra Amymone, in all your journeys. Magister Pyxidis.”

A fresh wave of sorrow overcame the mare’s defenses. Dropping the journal, she sank to the floor as great heaving breaths were not enough to sustain her through the sadness. She cried until her tears were spent. She wailed until her voice left her.

She laid there for a time, just watching the fire as it consumed the logs she had put in the hearth, flames licking up toward the chimney, dancing about gleefully. She hated them for that. The fire should have been sad with her.

Eventually, thirst drove her to stand and tend her need. After adding another log to hot coals and waning flame, Mestra sat in her magister’s favorite chair and tried to work through her thoughts to a decision.

She liked the cabin, but what did she really know of the world? She’d seen enough to believe she had seen far too little of it to know if she should stay in such a tiny corner to herself. She also considered her magister’s words. He believed she might have family and friends out there, somewhere. Missing her so terribly as she missed him.

Her little golden butterflies flitted about her until the mare waved them away.

“I can not go with you. Not now, not ever. I made a promise to my magister.”

Sitting there in her magister’s rocking chair by the fire, things seemed to suddenly make sense. She didn’t want to be the cause of such heartache for anypony else. She was definitely going to leave the cabin when spring came to Equestria. That meant she had precious few weeks to learn everything that the books could teach her.

She’d also need to take stock of what provisions she would need for the journey. Though a heaviness still laid on her, there was something else born within. Mestra almost felt as though a flame had kindled in her heart. It began to fill her with a warmth of hope that it wouldn’t be just darkness and sorrow ahead.

Mestra Amymone felt herself smile, perhaps for the first time in weeks. There was a path before her. She knew what to do. The little butterflies found purchase in her mane, tickling the mare’s scalp just a little as they did. She allowed herself a giggle. Come spring, Mestra Amymone would be ready to get moving.

Comments

[PaintedPony]

It's only these onions, really!

[Jatheus]

9175140
I shall be more thoughtful to not cut onions toward the end next time.

Thank you so much for reading/commenting!