The Long Year

by The Red Parade

April

---

Second division. A place.

---

April.

‘Iðunn.’

Cheerilee hadn’t slept since that night. Visions of the glowing sigil would haunt her whenever she closed her eyes, the echoing chants lingering in the silence between spaces. She had yelled at Apple Bloom until her face turned red, but even then her former student was unable to offer much.

“I dunno!” she insisted, even when pressured by Macintosh. “I was just goin’ off of AJ’s notes!”

AJ’s notes. She stared down at the thickly bound notebook that Apple Bloom had surrendered. It felt wrong, clashing with the laughing foals at recess just outside her window.

None of it made sense.

There were half-finished thoughts, crossed out lines, and sketches of unfamiliar things dotting the pages. Nothing about it made sense. So why did it make her feel that way every time she stared at these symbols?

It was hard to describe but it felt like… warmth. Like a puzzle piece that completed her. The same way those berries would make her feel every time she ate them. That was why every day she stared at it, flipping through the pages, feeling something tingle at the tips of her ears.

She had been avoiding the barn with the sigil ever since that night. But she couldn’t deny that something was drawing her closer to it. Calling out to her. Promising to make her whole again.

What was Applejack doing with this stuff? And why did some of this feel so… familiar?

She stared at the bag of berries resting next to the book: roughly a quarter of them were gone now.

“These are delicious!”

“Don’t go takin’ too much of ‘em now, y’hear?” Applejack laughed.

“Where’d you even get these from?”

“...Don’t you worry ‘bout that. Just know there’s a lot more where those came from.”

Cheerilee shoved the bag away in disgust even as she felt her mouth water. Her class filed into the room, chattering happily amongst themselves with talk of the imminent spring break. Cheerilee sighed and tried to recompose herself, shutting the notebook.

Still, one image lingered in her mind: that of the arrow pointing into the forest. She hadn’t yet ventured back into the Everfree to find where it was pointing, her fear still overruling her curiosity.

“Okay! What do we do after lunch?” she asked.

“Math!” her class replied, some with more enthusiasm than others. The students began to rummage in their bags for their books, finishing up their conversations as Cheerilee turned to the board.

“Who remembers what we were talking about yesterday?” she asked as she grabbed a piece of chalk.

“Shapes!” said half her class (with the other half saying “the alphabet”).

Cheerilee nodded and began to draw on the board. “So! Can anyone tell me what shape this is?”

“Circle!”

“Great!” The chalk swung up and down the board. “And this one?”

“Triangle!”

“How many sides?”

“Three!”

Cheerilee nodded again, her hoof moving of its own accord. “And this one?”

Her class was completely silent.

She blinked and realized that she had drawn the sigil on the board. “Well… That’s because that isn’t a shape,” she said with a laugh. “I was… Just seeing if you all were paying attention!”

She hastily cleared the board and tried to get her mind to move on. But try as she might, it still seemed to linger on that damned shape.

---

Big Mac stared absently at the barn floor. He had spoken of getting rid of the markings, but clearly he hadn’t found the energy or motivation to do so. Candle stubs still littered the floor, mixed with the stray bits of grass and hay.

Cheerilee stood next to him, equally awestruck. It was like watching a beautiful sunrise: enchanting and captivating.

The arrow still glowed with a faint gold pulse, pointing into the forest.

“Twilight came by. She doesn’t know anythin’,” Mac muttered.

Cheerilee wrinkled her brow. “That can’t be good.”

Mac nodded. “Maybe I oughta raze this barn. Nothin’ good is gonna come from that here.” He winced as if remembering his sister’s death all over again. “Look at what it’s already done.”

With a disgusted sigh he kicked at the dirt and stalked out of the barn.

Cheerilee looked down at the mark he left, thinking.

“You.”

She flinched, turning to the door to spot the new voice.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

A hunched yellow figure stood in the doorway. Glaring.

Cheerilee blinked. “Fluttershy?”

Fluttershy growled. “You think you can come back here?” Her voice was low and jagged. “After everything? You come back to do this?”

“I–” Cheerilee’s eyes flicked to the sigil. “This wasn’t me!”

“This was ALL YOU!” Fluttershy surged forwards, anger in her eyes. “Don’t lie to me!”

Cheerilee recoiled with every word. “Fluttershy, what are you saying?”

“This was all your fault. Applejack died because of you.” Fluttershy spat at the ground. “She only ever did this for you.”

A silence fell upon the barn. “I had no idea she was doing this.”

“She loved you.” Fluttershy sniffed and scowled. “Everything she did was for you. She died because of you.”

Cheerilee moved her lips to speak, but no words came out. A breath came out in a trembling gasp, and instead she shoved three berries into her mouth. The memories faded as quickly as they began, but a light, lingering weight still rested in her stomach.

Neither one moved as the sun set outside. When Cheerilee finally found the strength to move her head, she saw the arrow pointing deeper into the woods. Under the scrutiny of Fluttershy’s glare, she moved her hooves and began to follow it into the Everfree.

---

Nothing in the barn moved for several hours after. Some time after midnight, the back door creeped open. “Woof! Dusty in here. Does a number on my allergies,” Night Glider sniffed.

“You should see Appleloosa,” muttered Strawberry. “Why are we here?”

Night Glider stopped suddenly in the middle of the room, leaving Strawberry to crash into her. “Recognize that?”

Strawberry tilted her head and stared at the floor. “Holy mother of Ingenue. She actually did it.”

“Candle wax here… Weird.” Night Glider knelt at the edge of the sigil. “This was laid out a while ago but only recently reactivated. Somebody came back and traced over the lines, relit the candles… Why?”

“You tell me, rent-a-cop.”

Night Glider’s ear flicked in irritation, but her face betrayed nothing. “What are we looking at?”

“Don’t you know already?”

“I like hearing things straight from the horse’s mouth.”

Strawberry rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Fine. It’s a locating sigil, specifically a compass beacon. Used to indicate cardinal directions, utilized first by ancient earth pony shamans. Fell out of favor after the reunification, as they were difficult to set up and unreliable.”

“Good, you did your homework.”

“...Right. Homework.” Strawberry glanced at the arrow. “Where does it lead?”

Night Glider stood up, brushing herself off. “Let’s find out.”

---

Ignis III, The Book of Cataclysm, Princess Luna version. Author and Date unknown.

When Ignis returned to the village, winter had begun to fall around them. As the stocks of food ran low, the elders gathered on the edge of the forest. “Where are you going?” asked Ignis.

“We must ask Hortus for a boon to survive,” said an elder. “He demands a tribute in return, and is a hefty price to pay. But we must, else our children starve.”

Ignis was surprised by this. “Surely there must be another way.”

“There is not,” the elder insisted. “We have searched the forest, and nothing grows when the snow falls.”

Sure-headed as always, Ignis refused to believe him. Instead he ventured deep into the woods, searching for something to satiate the village for the winter ahead. For two days and two nights he searched, using a lantern and his senses to guide him.

He found nothing but empty trees and bushes that had shed their autumn skin. Ignis returned to the village and asked the elders if they had searched the surrounding woods. The wisest one said, “We have searched in all the places we can find. But there may be one place still that we have yet to reach. At the heart of the forest, there is a lake which reflects our very thoughts. We have not dared to stray too far into it. But there may be something on the other side.”

Ignis took this into thought. “Then if Hortus is hiding a secret, he must be hiding there.” With his mind decided, Ignis set off for the lake. At its edge he stared into its waters and watched as his own reflection shimmered.

“What is it that you seek?” his reflection asked.

Ignis considered this question carefully. “I seek to grow in a time of need. I seek to coax from earth life.”

His reflection nodded. “Draw closer then, and swear not to be scared. Few have lived the trip, though many have dared.”

Ignis waded into the waters and found himself immersed by a powerful, shimmering feeling. Sensation rose from the earth and through his hooves. He began to feel things ebb below the earth. Perfectly in tune, he found himself able to pull on their roots. From the ground sprouted roots, then plants.

When he emerged he found himself in a clearing with bright and vibrant life springing up around him. At its center was a beautiful mare with a long, flowing mane. “Welcome,” said the Gardener.

“What is this place?” asked Ignis.

“This is the garden from which all life grows.” The Gardener raised a hoof and a patch of flowers sprung from the earth below.

Ignis was stunned at the sheer scale of the life around him. “How can one learn this power?” he asked.

The Gardener considered him carefully. “Slay Hortus,” she declared. “And I will bestow this gift upon you.” Her gaze hardened. “Hortus seeks to bastardize this gift by growing from death. Stop his heresy, and I will teach you.”

Ignis nodded, seizing his sword. “Very well. It shall be done.”