//------------------------------// // CHAPTER TEN // Story: Dear Faithful Student // by Muramasa //------------------------------// CHAPTER TEN: WIDOWER PRINCESS CELESTIA I remember the day my sister blotted out the sun. I had walked into the castle and felt my stomach drop immediately. Nothing bad had occurred that day in particular--I had attended a meeting with the farmers in Canterlot as they discussed the current agricultural climate and what to expect for the coming season, if I recall correctly--but the mundane (yet important) cloud in my mind cleared immediately as my spine began to tingle. I knew something was very, very wrong, and the moment I walked into that throne room and saw my sister slowly turn to me with a burning hatred in her eyes the likes of which I had never seen before, my fight-or-flight response shook me to my very core. I remember what it felt like very vividly, and I could not even replicate it when it crossed my mind. I often wondered if there was some sort of innate magic I had that warned me of the coming danger that day, but I did not think about it much longer: after I had banished Luna to the moon, I never felt it again. Not until I had taken my first step into the castle after returning from a delegate meeting. I remember how deafening the silence was. Silence was a strange thing, as one traditionally blocks out all the noise and banter they hear in a place they have been so many times, but it immediately becomes noticeable when it has gone. The castle just felt barren and empty, and I got that exact same pit in my stomach I remembered from the very worst day of my long, long life. My first instinct was to call out. I knew I would not get an answer, but desperation prevailed, taking a hold of me before I could make any effort to combat it. "Hello?" I asked. My words echoed off the walls, bouncing back to my ears with reverberation. I took a few steps forward before I called out to the two ponies I knew were in the castle when I had left it. "Zephyr? Chrysanthemum?" I heard nothing still, and the feeling in my stomach only grew worse. When I walked into the palace on the day my sister left me, I somehow knew that the pit in my stomach had something to do with her. I could not explain it--there were many things I could not explain with the powers I had been given so long ago--but I knew. And so the moment I felt it again, I knew precisely who had triggered it and I knew exactly where to go. Zephyr and Chrysanthemum lived at the very far end of Canterlot Castle, in a single-bed room with plenty of space and decor. It was going to be a long walk, and so I braved it with a sigh as I took my first steps down the long and winding hallways. The artifacts and paintings that hung on the wall blurred to unrecognizable objects as I passed, and I could see my vision tunnel forward as I got closer and closer to what I just knew was a disaster. As the sound of my own heartbeat pounded through my skull, I had a singular thought dancing furiously through my mind. Has it finally happened? Nopony knew how she got it. Chrysanthemum had been coughing for quite some time, but she insisted it was likely just a simple cold that would go away with time. It was not until she began to cough up blood one morning, however, that we knew something was seriously wrong, and when she passed out in the middle of a hallway while attempting to go to the doctor we picked her up and carried her there as fast as we could. They did not know what it was at first, but after leaving her in the infirmary overnight led to her struggling with night sweats and she began to lose weight alarmingly fast, they gave us the grim diagnosis: Chrys had been stricken with consumption, and her days were certainly numbered. Chrysanthemum handled it well. The girl was perhaps one of the most compassionate and kind mares I had ever met in my very long life, but she had a heart of steel. She had been married to Zephyr for close to seven or eight years at this point, and she made sure to remind him how fortunate she was to have spent her happiest moments with her best friend. Chrysanthemum was going to die, but amidst the turmoil running through her body, she had made peace with her mortality. Zephyr had not. Chrys was his everything. I had done my best to teach him the lessons of friendship, but it became clear to me that Chrys was the only friend he ever truly cared about. She was the reason he woke up in the morning, the very catalyst of his soul. They had been married and nigh unseperable, and he had suddenly been faced with the jarring reality that the love of his life and his very best friend would leave him sooner than later. It destroyed him. He begged me to do something and help her. I told him that although I was powerful, there is only so much magic can do: even so, I was not a doctor, so I would not know how to save her even if my magic could heal her fully. I think he never forgave me for that answer, but he at least made an effort to tolerate me as we searched through the many libraries of the Royal Palace for a cure. Every day our search was fruitless, and Chrys and I attempted many times to get him to end his aimless crusade. It was to no avail, unfortunately, and he would go numerous nights on end without sleeping in desperate hopes of finding anything that could save his purpose. Until one day, he found a book. It was a book filled to the brim with dark magic. Spells, tomes, rituals, cantrips: it held everything that lay claim to the vile and perverse, but to Zephyr it held a single spell he needed. It was a spell the book claimed could cure any illness that ravaged the body. He was overjoyed when he found it, but I quickly informed him that he would not be using any dark magic while he was my student and that the book was in the library (and heavily guarded) solely for historical reasons. He may have merely tolerated me for some time, but once I had denied him the right to use the spell, the toleration became hatred. I sat and listened while he unloaded his worst words upon me that night, screaming that I was murdering his love by banning him from the tome. I let him--he was always an emotional one--but I was in hopes that he, so bright as he was, would calm down in the coming days. He did not. He stood by Chrys' side for hours of the day, refusing to speak to me as he scribbled away in his journal. I told him to return the book, and I made sure to check frequently to make sure it was still in the library. I tried to get him to talk on numerous occasions, but Chrys had become too weak for words and Zephyr would have none of my attempts to reconcile. He just sat at her bedside. Scribbling. And scribbling. And scribbling. Perhaps my feeling was a signal that Chrys had finally succumbed to the consumption. Perhaps her death would drive Zephyr further into the bubble he had constricted himself with, or perhaps her passing would allow him to be free of her chains upon his psyche. Regardless, I had already made a decision at that delegate meeting. There were some things within Zephyr that reminded me of the stallion I had raised and loved. He still had that inquisitive mind, constantly researching and feverishly studying, but it was what he had been applying his will to that frightened me. He had truly thrown everything else in his life away for Chrys, a mare on the brink of death that, as far as I knew, could not be saved without corruption. I loved Zephyr--I still loved Zephyr, after all we had been through in the past months--but it became clear to me that he needed serious help. Help I could not offer him. And so I had decided at that delegate meeting that I was going to kindly inform Zephyr I wished to relieve him of his duties. His animosity towards me had grown to new heights in the past few days, and he had quite literally reached the point where he had refused to even speak to me. It had been my goal with Violet to teach her the gift of friendship and to better her as a pony and a magician, and I had hoped to do the very same with a pony as bright as Zephyr. Maybe I had failed him. Maybe he had failed me. Before I knew it, I had reached their door. It was inconspicuous, but it was theirs, and they had lived there for almost ten years. I raised my hoof to knock, knowing well that I would get no answer, but my motions were automatic regardless. The three knocks on the door were hollow, and I let them hang in the air for what seemed like an eternity before I called out once more. "Zephyr? Chrysanthemum?" Nothing, still. I waited a few moments, staring at the wood grain and following its pattern along with my eyes before gently grasping the door handle and slowly pushing it forward. The room was how I had always known it. It was impeccably clean, the light yellow wallpaper and dark purple curtains spotless as usual. There was not much in the room, save for a small desk, a large dresser, and queen-sized bed, the bedding matching the color of the walls perfectly. Lying on her side was Chrysanthemum with her back to me, her light purple coat and deep red mane and tail recognizable from miles away. She was eerily still, and the pit in my stomach dropped ever so slightly when I saw her: I knew then and there that she was gone. Zephyr had pulled the desk chair up to the bed and was sitting just as steady with his back to the doorway. He appeared to be staring at her, and it was not until I saw the back of his head that I noticed the aura, dark purple and flowing stronger by the second. It was a telltale sign of the darkness. It looked powerful, too, so he clearly had not dabbled in it sparingly. My eyes turned to the desk almost immediately, and sure enough, the book I had forbidden him to continue research was wide open next to his journal. I slowly turned back to him and took a loud step forward. It was muffled over the carpeted floor, but it was loud enough for Zephyr to absolutely know I had arrived. When I got no response once again, my stomach took a freefall, and I spoke softly in his direction as a straightened my posture. "Zephyr," I said cautiously. "What have you done?" For what felt like eons, he merely ignored me, staring steadily at Chrys as my words hung in the air. I let the silence persist, making sure all my wits were about me, as I had no idea just how much dark magic he had used or if it had corrupted him in some way. Finally, he slowly turned from his chair to face me, and I had to stifle a gasp when I saw his face. His pupils were reduced to the size of pinpricks, tiny black dots on a field of sickly green. The purple aura coming from his eyes burned bright and full, rippling violently in a strong wind that was not there. I could feel my eyes widen in horror, and he looked to me with a cold hatred in his own gaze before he spoke. "What you would not," he said simply. "I have saved her." I looked back to Chrys, unmoving on her side lying prone on the bed. "Chrys?" I called out to her. There was no response or movement, and I took a step back before addressing my former-faithful student once more. "Zephyr," I began slowly. "I do not know what you read, or what you did to Chrysanthemum, but I need you to get out of that chair and step away from her. Now." I made sure to put plenty of emphasis on that last word, but Zephyr merely snarled back at me as he rolled his eyes. "Or what?" he spat, turning to me directly now. I narrowed my eyes, letting only the slightest bit of anger push my words as I replied. "Or I am about to make a mistake," I said calmly, feeling my horn glow gold involuntarily. Zephyr merely laughed in response and stood from his chair to face me fully on all fours. "You have already done your share of that," he began, cynicism dripping from his inflection. "Not using this magic is your greatest mistake of all. I have read that book front to back, Celestia, and it holds the keys that unlock so many of life's mysteries. And you... you have hidden it from me all this time." I immediately shook my head before using it to motion to the open book lying open on the desk. "That book has the power to corrupt, and it has clearly done its work on you," I began in retaliation. "I am not going to repeat myself, Zephyr. I do not know what you have done to Chrysanthemum, but I am commanding you to step away from her." He laughed once again--each chuckle more unhinged than the last--and he pointed with his hoof to the book at his side, wearing a ferocious countenance as he spoke. "That book allowed me to bring her salvation, Celestia, just like it has brought me. After reading that book, it has become clear to me why you have locked it away, and why you banished your own sister to the moon--" "Do not speak of Luna," I muttered angrily through gritted teeth. Zephyr ignored me, opting to continue his tirade at an even louder volume. "You were afraid of her power!" He shouted. "And Tirek before her, and Sombra before him. That is why you cast them out, and that is why you were planning on casting me out as well." It was his turn to ignite his horn, but his aura was not the traditional amber that almost matched mine: it was dark purple and green, the two colors endlessly vying for control under the power of darkness. I could feel his anger rising by the second, and I knew then and there just how this was going to end. Nonetheless, I sighed--and felt only the slightest well of tears--and looked him straight in the eyes one last time. "Zephyr," I said simply, unable to mask the helpless plea with my voice. "I have already lost my sister. Please do not make me lose you." It all happened in an instant. Zephyr's anger had reached its height, and with a yell, he unleashed the bolt of magic he had been holding back. I had trained Zephyr very well. He was adept at almost every form of magic, and that included combat magic. The spell he had fired off was a considerably more powerful variation of a laceration spell, which acted essentially like a flying sword with a blade on sides it did not have. I had taught it to him some time ago, with the caveat that it mainly to be used as a tool and only in extreme emergencies, as it would run clean through virtually anything, much less another pony. The dark magic flowing through him had certainly enhanced his abilities, and he was already very fast on the draw. I was faster. I had already begun moving to my right when he had fired, and I could feel the heat of the spell pass by me in a flash. I let fly my own charge, and once my own laceration spell had connected with my former student, it was all over in an instant. My Zephyr--my faithful student who I had so loved and cherished since he was a colt--made no noise when he hit the ground. I watched him there for a moment, the aura around his eyes snuffed out deftly, and it took but a few moments for me to hang my head low, fall to the floor, and let loose the tears I been withholding for months. I do not know how long I wept there. I do not know how long I thought of our best moments and replayed each moment Zephyr mastered a lesson or his lovely wedding with his best friend. I do not remember how long I hated myself for what I had done, replaying the moment in my head searching for a way it could have ended differently. I do not know how many tears had soaked the carpet when the guards barged into the room after hearing two bolts fly, only to see me prone and weeping across from the body of my former student. The head guard said nothing for a moment, but he eventually stammered together a sentence. "Princess, we... we heard bolts of magic, and we came as fast as we could. Is... is..." I rose from the floor before he had a chance to finish and turned to face him. I knew my complexion was read from the crying, but I was not embarrassed: the guards had seen me in this state before, and they would see me in this state again plenty of times within the next few days. "Zephyr is dead, yes," I said, sniffling louder than I would have liked to. "He tried to kill me, and I fired back. There was probably more I could have done to help him, but... it is over now." The guard nodded silently, struggling to find the words once again, but his face went grim when his eyes shifted past me to the bed across from him. "And what of Chrysanthemum, Princess?" I could not see myself, but I imagined a dawning washed over my face as my mouth hung open ever slightly. I turned to the bed as well to see the same sight that greeted me when I walked in: Chrysanthemum lying motionless, not a sound coming out of her. I squinted my eyes, but I could not see any evidence of breathing on her part, and I suddenly remembered Zephyr's words only moments ago. This book allowed me to bring her salvation. Salvation? "Chrysanthemum?" I called out. I waited for an answer--any form of acknowledgment, truly--that never came. The silence that hung in the air was sickening, and with an audible gulp, I slowly moved over to her. I reached the edge of the bed and laid a hoof on her, checking for any sign of breathing. When there was not one, I turned her over. "Chrys?" I called again. For a blissful half a second, everything seemed normal. And then I saw her eyes.