“I wish I could go in there with you.”
“Shiny, I know.”
“I’ll be here the entire time. If anything goes wrong…”
“Shiny, shh.” Cadance put a hoof around her husband’s shoulder. “You’ve been repeating yourself for the last three days. I’ll be fine.”
Shining glanced around. The crowd whispered. Every few seconds the click and flash of cameras poked through the screen of noise. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“If I can’t do this, then how can we expect anypony else to?”
Shining leaned in. “I know you have to say that to everypony else. I know that there’s all that noblesse oblige BS to consider…”
“Shining…”
“But you don’t have to do this. No one would think less of you. I would never think less of you.”
“Shiny, do you trust Twilight?”
“Twily has a habit of thinking through the wrong parts of her plans.”
“Do you trust me?”
“You have a habit of putting others before yourself.”
“I know you’re scared. It’s okay. I’m scared too. But better to try. And if it fails… When it succeeds, we won’t have to worry about the Amulet anymore.”
Shining said nothing. The whispers of the crowd shifted pitch and tone, the cameras continued.
Shining finally leaned in, kissed Cadance softly and quietly.
“Promise me you’ll be okay,” he whispered.
“There’s nothing it could offer me that I don’t already have,” Cadance whispered back.
Cadance took a deep breath. She put on her princess smile for the crowds and reporters, then finally walked into the building.
They had prepared the building in secret, of course. Even the princesses didn’t know the full extent of the countermeasures and traps and failsafes layering the building. She felt a tingle as she passed through the door, and she could guess at some of the runes and magic dampeners placed throughout the structure. There was a guard at each corner of the room. Their gas masks and the vents along the ceiling provided another clue about what sort of things might stop her if the Alicorn Amulet won.
She shook her head. Best not to think about that. She trotted to the center of the room. The Amulet sat in a glass case. It looked as harmless as it always did. The glass was so thick, so heavily enchanted, that it dulled the Amulet’s colors and sheen further.
She knew how dangerous that lie was, though. She had steeled herself for its tricks. To underestimate it or overestimate herself were equally dangerous.
She took another deep breath. She reached a hoof into the small hole in the case. Her hoof paused an inch from its surface.
“It won’t win,” she said aloud. The sentence echoed faintly in the room. The guards showed no reaction.
She moved her hoof the last few inches forward and closed her eyes.
Princess Cadance yawned. The sheets felt warm. The sunlight had started to creep in through the windows and past the curtains, stopped just short of her neck and face. The light warmed her sheets without poking her in the eye.
She yawned again. She adjusted her body slightly, and felt the warmth and smoothness of her bedsheets shift under her. She began to open her eyes, then changed her mind.
She flicked an ear. Listened to the sounds of the morning. She heard bugs and birds through the open window. She heard Flurry Heart breathing ever so softly in the crib. She thought of breathing, and noticed her own.
She smiled. She reached a hoof over. Shining Armor normally made a large divot in the bed, so he must have rolled to other side. He could be such a wiggly sleeper if she didn’t help him keep still.
Her reach stopped.
“Shining, scoot closer,” she murmured. Her voice strained slightly, the words clouded by fatigue.
She reached again. “Shining, don’t make me move over there, I’m too comfortable.”
She rested her foreleg on the bed, and the surface felt smooth and flat.
“Shining?” The divot should have been there.
She opened her eyes, and saw an empty stretch of mattress.
She sat up. No training exercises or events had been scheduled today. A Sunday like this had been tailor-made to sleep in and cuddle. No appointments or errands came to mind.
Cadance yawned again. “I swear, Shiny… If you are doing some sort of busywork on our day off…”
She crept over to Flurry Heart’s crib, and her daughter looked as pristine and peaceful as ever. The urge to fall asleep together washed over her, but her mind had started to grind away. The question of where Shining had gone would gnaw at her, whether she tried to go back to sleep or not.
She grabbed her robe and opened her door.
“Excuse me?”
A maid dusting one of the knicknacks looked up. “Ah, good morning, Princess. Did you need any help with anything?”
Cadance glared at the maid’s cutie mark. “Forgive me, I’m still a little sleepy. Feather Rose?”
“At your service. Did you need something? I’d be happy to help.”
“Have you seen Shining Armor?”
The maid’s smile shifted slightly. It had started out as a standard servile smile; slightly too enthusiastic, but sincere. The moment Cadance had said his name, the maid’s smile had shifted. It looked like a clock that had stopped working; the same position and appearance, but eerily devoid of movement.
“I’m sorry?” the maid asked. Her words strained slightly through her teeth and smile.
“Do you know where my husband is?”
The maid glanced to the side. “Is this a joke, Princess?”
“What is that supposed to mean? Of course it’s not a joke.”
Feather Rose took a step backward. “You couldn’t have forgotten, could you? I mean, I suppose they told me about the memory problems but…”
“Forgotten what, exactly?”
Feather Rose glanced to the side again. “Shining Armor…do you really not know?”
Cadance smiled her most reassuring smile. Clearly Shining had gone off to do something, and ordered this poor girl to cover for him. “Just tell me where Shining is, please. I can assure you, I won’t be upset.”
“Well, your highness, he’s…”
“Yes?”
“He’s dead.”
Now Cadance’s smile froze in place, devoid of movement. “Surely, my little pony, you must be mistaken.” The words came out slower than she had intended. “I was just talking to him yesterday.”
“He has been dead for a month. And I know that your memory is still…uhm, adjusting, but I reminded you the other day and…”
Cadance stepped forward, and the maid flinched.
“I know that I said I would not get upset,” Cadance said. Her words strained through her teeth. “But I am having difficulty believing such an outlandish statement.” She leaned forward, pushed her face right up against Feather Rose’s. “You wouldn’t lie to me. Would you?”
The maid pushed her head as far back as possible without taking another step backward. “Princess, please don’t make me say it again. I reminded you just the other day, and I can’t…” The red and white of her eyes turned cloudy, and she turned her head just as the tears started to form.
Cadance stepped back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just…”
“I know it is hard to believe, with your condition. But you could always go to the Crystal Empire Royal Cemetery and see for yourself. That helped you remember, the last time.”
Cadance blinked. She had not been to the cemetery in ages. Not since the last function that had demanded her presence. If it solved this mystery, however…
Cadance nodded. “Right. Again, forgive me. I’m still not quite awake.” She turned back to her quarters. “I’ll prepare, and then go see for myself.”
The door to the royal bedroom closed. The maid smiled and returned to her dusting. The sunlight glinted off her eyes. For a moment, her eyes glinted red.
The tombstone had been carved in the shape of Shining Armor’s cutie mark. The little stars at the top possessed a small backboard that supported them, and the central design had been carved in bas-relief.
The rectangular segment below that listed his date of birth, and a date for his death.
It has to be some mistake. A month and three days ago, just like the maid said.
Cadance turned to the guards who had accompanied her. “You are sure the Cemetery is empty?”
One of them nodded. “Yes, Princess. We cleared out every visitor before you arrived, just like you asked.”
“Thank you. I’d like some time alone, with…the grave, if you don’t mind.”
The guards nodded. “Of course, Princess.”
Cadance waited until their hoofsteps faded out of earshot. She waited a moment longer, then turned to the ground. Her horn ignited, and she scanned the ground with the most powerful spells she knew.
A coffin certainly lay below. It certainly held a corpse-shaped object of some sort.
Cadance glanced behind her. The cemetery looked empty, just as she had ordered. She turned back to the grave.
“It’s the only way to be sure,” she muttered.
Her horn ignited again, and a huge chunk of grass and soil tore out of the ground. She tossed the clump to the side, then pulled up another. Flecks of dirt and sod sprinkled everywhere, and dust started to cloud the air.
Another clump followed it, and another one after that. It took a moment for each one to move up through the air and out of the way for the next one, leaving a trail of detritus on the ground. Cadance paused.
“This is quite absurd. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She looked around. “I need a shovel.”
She had gotten into the rhythm of it now. She would tear up a clump of soil with her horn, and then scoop some with the spade. The downstroke of the shovel happened as she tossed the dirt up with her magic. Then the upstroke went in time with her magic grasping another wad of earth.
The sun had ticked along, slowly but surely, during the entire time she had been digging. She had started to get sweaty. A few clouds pockmarked the sky, but all this digging and excavation would work up a sweat no matter the weather.
Cadance’s ceremonial barding had gotten scuffed, caked in dirt. She should have taken it off, but she wore it so often that she forgot about it sometimes. The damage had been done, no point in taking it off now.
Her coat fared little better. The ground lacked much water. It was the sort of dry, clumpy dirt that created a lot of dust as she dug. At first, she had felt the layer caked over her body, but now she had adjusted to it. She only noticed it when she made a particularly long or sweeping movement, and the dirt shifted, scrunched on her skin.
She had felt the dirt in her mane, too. Thankfully, her hair had gotten dirty enough to hold a shape, and she had swept it out of her face.
She had encountered more than a few bugs and worms on her way down. A few of them had gotten smashed into her coat, or squished on her barding or sliced by her shovel. No point worrying about that, either.
The shovel made a dull clink as it hit something hard. Possibly another rock, she had found a few. She paused her rhythmic digging to sweep the dirt away with her horn.
Her eyes widened. Smooth wood peeked out from the earth. She started shifting more of it with her magic, and finally she uncovered the coffin.
The wood looked expensive, even under layers of dirt and scrapes from its stay underground. The smallest nick marked where her shovel had struck it.
She shifted her weight, and forced the top section of the lid open.
The brief glimpse made her heart lurch. She dropped the lid, leaned backward. She felt bile build in her throat.
It had looked like him. The mane and coat had been the right color, dulled by rot and time. The skin had warped, the clothes had faded, but it was impossible to deny it.
Cadance pulled herself out of the hole. She put a hoof to her mouth, tried to restrain the vomit crawling up into her mouth. She had desired the truth, and the grave had given it to her.
“Hello, Cadance.”
She nearly fell back in. Celestia stood there, a few yards from her, smiling sadly.
“Aunt Celestia? How…how long have you been there?”
Celestia’s expression sagged a little. “Long enough to see what happened.”
“Auntie, I know this might look a little…well, more than a little…” Cadance took a deep breath. “I know how this must look.” She glanced back at the grave. “But I can explain. I can definitely explain, if you give me a moment.”
Celestia’s expression remained the same. “There’s no need to explain, Cadance. I know why you are here.”
“You do?”
“You’re here because you had to be sure.” Celestia sighed. “It’s my own fault, really. I should have warned you about the way alicorn memory can work.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Living long enough, it can take its toll on your memories. Even regular ponies forget things, given enough time. Alicorns are no different, and we have many more things to remember.”
“But it says he died a month ago. I remember talking to him yesterday.” Cadance shook her head. “That can’t be. It’s too preposterous.”
“It’s a price we pay for living so long. One price of many.” Celestia forced a smile, the same one Cadance had seen her wear at so many official functions and meetings. “It can be mitigated. You can plan your life around it. It was harder before the invention of the camera. Luna and I used to keep a journal together. And one day I will show you the scrolls of sketches and drawings that I’ve had done, to commemorate all the people I’ve known.”
Cadance slumped to the ground.
“I know it is not easy, my dear little pony. And this is partly my fault. I should have told you this a long time ago, prepared you for it better.”
“Nothing could have prepared me for this,” Cadance whispered. “Will all my memories of him fade away someday?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
Tears began to drip down Cadance’s cheeks. They left little trails through the dirt in her coat, before dripping onto the ground. “Isn’t there anything I can do? There has to be some spell or something that can keep my memories intact.”
Celestia touched Cadance’s shoulder. “Well, there is one thing I can think of.”
Cadance wiped away some of her tears, but only made her face a muddier mess. She looked up. “What?”
“But it might not be for you. It might be best to forget him.”
“No, tell me. What is it?”
Celestia glanced to the side. “I mean, I suppose I did come here to show you. But you mustn’t overreact.”
“Just tell me, Auntie.”
“Very well.” Celestia reached into her peytral, and slid out a small black object. “There is a spell that could solve your problem, but it would require a lot of magic. You would need the right artifact to amplify your abilities.” Celestia turned her hoof over, and the Alicorn Amulet stared at Cadance.
“Where did you get that? Why do you have it?”
“I told you, I brought it for you,” Celestia said. “If you fear losing Shining Armor, then this will give you the power to bring him back, to keep him with you forever.”
“A memory spell shouldn’t need that much magic.”
Celestia smiled. The red of the Amulet reflected in the bright sunlight, cast a tint on her eyes. “One can only cling to memories for so long, magic or not. You would need to do more than that. You would need to use some magic directly on…his body.”
Cadance turned back to the hole behind her. She knew the lid had dropped back down, but she felt her skin crawl. “Auntie, that’s insane. You know how resurrection magic works. The pony never comes back the same.” Cadance swallowed. “They always bring death back with them.”
“With normal magic, yes.” Celestia gestured with the Amulet. “But this can give you power that no other pony could ever possess. The power to bring him back, and keep him with you for all eternity.”
Cadance shook her head. “And then the Amulet would corrupt me. It wouldn’t be worth it.”
“Yes, the Amulet will whisper to you. Every moment you wear it, it will tell you promises and lies and uncomfortable truths. It will try to tempt you, it will try to make you use it for grander and grander things. It will take every opportunity to wear down your resolve.” Celestia’s smile looked like the maid’s, devoid of motion. “But you are a strong pony. You will be able to ignore it. You will be able to tune it out and overcome its temptations and whispers. And isn’t that a reasonable price to pay, to have him back?”
Cadance remained quiet.
“I tried to use it, once,” Celestia said softly. “I lost someone, someone more precious to me than anything else. And I thought the Amulet could bring them back to me. And it did.” Celestia inched closer, pushed the Amulet towards Cadance. “I wasn’t strong enough to keep the Amulet in check. I had to take it off, and lose that someone all over again. And then I lost them a third time, when my memories faded. I can't even remember their name, now.” Celestia leaned in, put her mouth to Cadance’s ear. “But I know you are strong enough. You could control it. You could bring him back, and you won’t need to suffer as I have.”
Cadance turned her eyes towards the Amulet. “You’re sure I can handle it?”
“Of course you can.”
“And if I can’t, if the Amulet starts to win, you’ll help me take it off, right?”
“Of course I will.”
“And Shining…he’ll be normal, won’t he?”
“He’ll be the same as he was when he was alive, as long as you maintain him properly.”
Cadance looked at Celestia. “It’s that simple? Just that easy?”
“It will not be easy, but it can be that simple.” Celestia moved the Amulet closer to Cadance. “Put it on, and see for yourself.”
Cadance moved her hoof towards the Amulet. It glowed red. “You promise you’ll stop me if…”
“Cadance, would I ever lie to you?”
Cadance picked up the Amulet. It felt heavy, metallic, and cold. She had never actually held it before. It sat heavily on her hoof, glowing subtly. She could see herself, just barely, reflected in the Amulet’s gems. Her mane looked like a mess, and the dirt covering her body showed even in the faint reflection.
“You did all this, just to know if he was dead. What’s a little more digging?”
“I didn’t mean to…” Cadance stared at the Amulet. Her reflection seemed sharper for a moment, the dirt caked on her and her mane and the circles under eyes. “I wasn’t trying to be crazy, I just…”
“It would be crazy to do anything else, after everything you’ve been through with him.”
Cadance sat staring at the Amulet.
“And it’s not just for you, either. Doesn’t Flurry Heart deserve to know her daddy?”
“Flurry Heart…”
“Yes. Just think of what you will be doing for her as well. You will be giving both of you the gift of a complete family. Go on, the clasp is on the back.”
Cadance swallowed.
Celestia’s face still hovered next to Cadance’s. The Amulet cast a glow on Celestia’s face, and it made her eyes look red. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
Cadance shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Don’t be silly, of course you can. Just put it on.”
“It would be a lie.”
“The Alicorn Amulet can make anything into the truth. That’s why you need it, instead of pedestrian magic.”
“No.” Cadance dropped the Amulet, backed away a half-step. “It would be a lie. What if Flurry Heart asked me if her father was dead? What would I tell her?”
“He wouldn’t be dead. That’s why you are going to bring him back.”
“She would know. I would know. Everypony would know.” Cadance turned around. “His tombstone is right there.”
“Well, obviously we would take it down, he wouldn’t need it anymore.”
Cadance slumped over the hole. “I’m sorry, Shining—”
“He can’t hear you, Cadance.”
“—But I can’t bring you back.”
“He can’t hear you, Cadance.” Celestia voice had risen, halfway between talking and shouting.
“And no matter how much I want to, I can’t keep my memories of you forever. And Flurry Heart can’t either.”
“Just put it on, and everything will be fine, my little pony.”
“I can’t make new memories with you, because it would sully the old ones.”
“Cadance, listen to me…”
“Time is like that. It’s a river that keeps flowing.”
“You can bend a river, with enough magic.”
“No, Auntie, you can’t. No matter how much magic you have, there are some things that can’t be changed.” Cadance closed her eyes. More tears leaked onto the ground. Celestia shouted something at her, but it wasn’t important.
“Time is like that. No matter what you do, it will keep going. No matter what, it will wash things away. No matter what, it keeps on rolling.”
Cadance opened her eyes. “No matter how much it hurts, I have to say goodbye.”
Cadance pulled her hoof away. She stumbled backward and fell down. She tasted bile crawling on her back teeth, her limbs felt stiff.
“Princess, are you okay?”
Cadance inhaled breath after breath. The air tasted so clean and fresh. She opened her eyes, drank in the details of the room.
A guard helped her up. “Princess?” His voice sounded muffled through the filter of the gas mask.
She remembered the gas mask, the vents, the thick glass case, and crowd waiting for her outside. And Shining. “So it wasn’t real after all,” she whispered.
“No, it’s alright, you’re fine Prin—”
Cadance shoved him away before he could finish. She trotted out the door, barely registering the tingle of her magic returning. The cheers and shouts and cameras greeted her, but she ignored them. She didn’t even bother to put her smile back on.
Shining nearly knocked her over with the force of his hug. He said something, so many things, but she couldn’t muster the energy to listen.
“Shining,” she muttered, “I just want to go rest.” She barely registered his nod as he rushed her away from the crowd.
“There, did you see that?” Twilight jabbed a hoof at the screen. “When she broke away from the Amulet, when she rejected whatever offer it made her, right there.”
The other alicorns squinted at the picture. A little trail of red smoke barely registered on the grainy film.
“Her denying it spent some of its magic.”
Celestia sighed. “Well, I suppose we don’t have a choice now. I still think it's a dangerous plan, but it seems to have a chance of success.”
Luna nodded. “Let the other volunteers you screened begin their turns at the Amulet.”
“And let fate be merciful on us and our little ponies.”