//------------------------------// // X: Sagav // Story: Princess of Infinity // by Echo 27 //------------------------------// She felt water. Cool, but not cold against her still-fragile skin. Water gently pushed against her as she exited the doors of the gate and she found herself pushing against sand as the crests of lapping waves flowed just overhead. Though her vision was still not fully recovered from her ordeal and her body continued to quiver, she could feel a far gentler pressure against her as she started to rise. The water was now shallow enough for her to stand upon without much difficulty, and she was grateful for a chance to exert herself less. Every step she took was still a struggle and she felt as though she had run a marathon. Air, sweet, clean, and glorious filled her lungs as her head popped above the waves, a gentle pressing of the surf rolling in from behind her. The sun poured down from the baby-blue sky above, the heavier warmth that came with the early evening meeting her skin along with it. She was soaked to the bone but the mere fact that she was alive, and had somehow survived the ordeal was more than enough. A flash of memory and she shuddered, giving herself a shake and sending the cold thoughts away. What she had seen had been monstrous, worse than any dream could have conjured- it had no place in the sunlight, in a land far away from that accursed city. Suddenly she realized she was alone. “Oh my- Ford. Ford!” Celestia cried, her uneven gait turning into a lethargic run as she tried to rush out of the water, her head looking this way and that she she spied the shoreline. “Where are you? Can you hear me?” She had followed him through the gateway only moments after he had departed. What if he, having gone alone, had stepped foot into a different land? The Palace was infinite, endless- they would never see one another again if they had been separated. And after what had happened, what Sombra had said about both of them, she needed to find him first before it was too late- A figure just at the edge of the water and prostate in the sand, not moving in the slightest. The broadsword at his side and his waist still decorated with the numerous knives he had been given, Ford did not seem to have noticed her cries, remaining motionless with his head bowed. His wounds were obvious; a cut along his back, his arms blackened and bleeding, but nothing that suggested anything severe. Her own injuries had been more deadly, though admittedly quicker to heal than his. Nevertheless, Ford remained inert and more akin to a statue than a man, cold and void of life. It was enough for her to know something was wrong, and Celestia felt a chill in her. As she came to the beach she stopped a short distance away from him, falling to her knees and choosing to slowly close the distance. Ford still did not move, his head still bowed. What did Sombra say to him? She wondered. He asked if it was true… surely Sombra didn’t tell him? It would be nothing close to the truth, a twisted lie. “Ford?” she called. Still nothing. Did she see a stiffening in his spine? It was too subtle to tell. “Ford, are you alright?” she asked, reaching out her hand to touch him- “Stay away from me!” Ford snarled, coming alive like a wild beast, leaping to his feet and staring at her with such hatred that she wondered for a moment if Sombra’s curse was still lain upon him. “Don’t you touch me!” He knows. Celestia was unprepared. She had been uncertain of how to tell him in the first place, but now with the moment forced upon her she was ill-prepared to deal with the severity of the situation. “Sombra came and talked to you, didn’t he?” Ford raged. “Did he tell you that he came to me first?” Celestia found herself unable to look upon him, her gaze looking everywhere but his face, afraid of the anger and grief that she would find in such power there. She felt caught like a mouse in a trap. “He told me that you’d known him when he first came to power. That you’d loved him like you say you love me. You’d slept with him, treated him like a king.” The words burned her heart worse than Sombra’s beast could have ever hoped for, tears coming unbidden and making her wonder if she would even be competent enough to answer. Ford’s voice struggled, but he persisted nonetheless. “That would mean he came to power during your reign. That you would’ve been aware of everything he was doing and you loved him anyway. Is that true?” “YES!” she screamed, unable to withstand the agony of waiting any longer, looking up at Ford and finding the pain and fury of thousands within his eyes. “Yes! I loved him, I nearly married him! He brought his own people to the brink of extinction and even tried to take my own with him! I- I helped him do it and I didn’t even know…” Ford’s chest heaved, a horror falling upon his face so strongly that it looked as though he would be sick from the overwhelming power of it. “You- he- it- dammit!” Ford fell to his knees and screamed until it seemed as though his throat would crack, clutching his head for fear it would shatter. He slammed his fists into the wet sand again and again, trying to elicit pain from his already fatigued body and finding it too meager. Taking a knife from his waist he struck out against himself, cutting across his chest relentlessly until his body was stained crimson with his own blood, all capped off with one last agonizing scream that sounded like shattered glass. “How many people did I just kill?” he roared, looking at Celestia with unparalleled disgust. “How many people just died because of you? Is it not enough? Were the thousands –the millions that have died- not enough to make you think it was reason to stop? You could have stopped him, you could have done something! It should have ended right then and there, but you let him do it! He came back because of you, we’re here because of you! Everyone that has ever died at his hand is because of you!” Ford looked ready to vomit, struggling to recapture air in his lungs and continue his tirade, no words seemingly enough to satiate his anger. “I didn’t want to kill them! They were innocent, he had them in his grasp! They didn’t know what they were doing! Now their blood is on my hands because of you- I committed a genocide because of you!” Ford’s wail of grief was so strong that it would have been no shock if the rocks and seas had joined in his torment, a grievous song to the heavens above. What could she say? Celestia hardly had strength of will herself, no voice that could go along with her tears. She had no words of remorse that would cover over the indelible stain upon her name, no confession that would cleanse his mind of the actions he had taken. And no matter how much each word stung, barbed and agonizing, she would not dare deny it, knowing that it was all too painfully true. Ford finally rose to his feet with an expression that was murderous to behold. “I don’t want to ever see you again, you hear me?” he sobbed. “I destroyed a city of enslaved people because of your sins. I should have let them tear you apart. If you ever come near me again, I will kill you myself.” He turned his back upon her and began walking towards the rising shores, heading for the hills and beyond until he was out of sight and beyond her aid. Celestia said nothing, merely collapsing back into the waters so her tears would be lost forever in the salt. Celestia was alone. Coldly, irreversibly, unfathomably alone in a world that knew nothing of her and she of it, with no guide or comfort to aid her. She had eventually left the beach after several hours, instinct of survival driving her rather than that of a desire to move. The cold of the water had become biting, and the air had done little to help. The climate was an early spring, too young to bring any sort of comfort or warmth at night. She had remained discomforted throughout the night, huddled beneath a nearby grove of trees where she had eventually been forced to settle, exhaustion having finally forcing her to the ground. She had hoped, in some dim way, for sleep, that perhaps her grieved and weary mind would have rest, but so great was her weariness that slumber would not come willingly. After many hours of tossing and turning, she had at last found sleep just before the first hints of dawn. She had not slept long. She had no real path or destination. She simply wandered onwards, walking forward with no thought of an arrival or meaning to her movement. She had failed completely, had barely escaped Sombra’s trap with her life, and had lost the loyalty of her husband all in one sitting. It was more than she could bear, and all desire to press on and find her prey had evaporated. Even if she found the gateway in this new place, she cared not for it to open. If Celestia’s mind had not been so intently focused inward, she would have found that she was traveling through magnificent country. The grass beneath her feet was a verdant green, with a beautiful blue sky above her, perfectly dotted with the occasional cloud. The air was warm as in the times of pleasant spring, with a gentle breeze pressing against her face and keeping the air fresh and comfortable. Birds warbled and chirped in the air and in the nearby trees, while wild things of the world leaped, bounded, and raced across the ground. At last, when Celestia’s forlorn ruminations had finally run their course, she came to notice the lightness that had come upon her physical form. Though her spirits remained low, the air she breathed was sweet and clean, and the world she had come to was alive and magnificent. If I am to wander here, this was not a poor place to have come to. Ford would have… have enjoyed the time here­-­ Her throat became unbearably tight and she struggled to keep her breathing even. The last realm they had ventured through had been beautiful and glorious, yet had brought more wrath and danger upon them than any before it. She could not let her guard down, even now. What’s the point? You’ve lost. You couldn’t even defeat Sombra and that was only a fraction of his new strength. With Ford gone, you have no hope. If someone were to kill you here, they would only be speeding up the inevitable. When her vision was no longer blurred, Celestia looked to the horizon and saw the purple silhouettes of mountaintops in the distance, with what looked like snow upon their thin peaks. Perhaps it was curiosity or something greater; Celestia was drawn to the sight and she, unconsciously, began to steady her stride. She would head there. As the evening shadows came to fall on the land around her, Celestia’s lack of water and food began to threaten her hopes of continuing on. Her energy had been spent in battle, and her wounds would only slow its recovery. To be just a normal person was struggle enough, and she found her stomach ached and her throat had become cracked. Moving would be difficult, and only more so if she continued on her journey come the morning. Perhaps the call to the mountains was her death sentence, and she would fall before she even came close. It would be justice for her sins, she thought. A faint tinge of flickering orange in the distant darkness, beneath the shade of a tree. Someone else was out here in this place with her. Surely not Ford? Driven by curiosity and the instinctive hope for aid, she headed towards it. As she came closer, the thin figure of a person was seen huddled over a cooking fire, a thick pot set over to boil. An enticing scent of hot stew overwhelmed her and Celestia’s mouth began to water. “Ho there! I can see you’re out there!” cried the figure, the voice of a woman. “Come on, don’t be shy! I always make a little extra, in case I run into wandering folk out here.” Fear made Celestia suspect a trap. But the voice had little temper in it, and seemed to be genuinely welcoming. She creeped closer and came into view of the firelight, revealing herself to the stranger. “Well, you certainly look like you’ve had quite a day,” said the woman, a middle-aged, spectacled woman wearing hiker’s gear and a soft smile. “Come on, there’s plenty to go around. That’s a love.” Celestia was handed a piping hot bowl with a spoon before she had even said a word, the other woman serving herself and nestling back against her rucksack. “Well, you might as well get comfortable. Eat up, you don’t want it to go cold! A good meal always does the spirit good.” It was sound advice that was soon proven true, Celestia’s hunger roused to full strength by the first taste of the broth. Though a simple dish, merely vegetable roots with wild rabbit, the meal was likely the most glorious thing she had ever tasted, and it took her little time to devour it all. Though not a full stomach, it was more than she could have hoped for. “Well you’ve certainly got an appetite,” the woman said pleasantly, unable to hold back a chuckle as Celestia licked her spoon clean. “Feel free to help yourself if you want more. Like I said, I always make extra in case someone needs it.” “Thank you,” Celestia said. “Truly. You had no reason to grant me such kindness.” “Oh, you never need a reason to be kind, love. Tell me, what brings you out here so far from the village?” “I am… a traveler here,” Celestia said slowly. “I have not had an easy road.” “Oh, so you’re a new soul here! It’s always nice to see a new face around, I always say. What’s your name?” “C- Celestia, miss.” “A lovely name. My name is Isah, and it’s very lovely to meet you,” the woman said pleasantly, reaching over and giving Celestia’s hand a friendly squeeze. “Where exactly are you headed, now?” “I… I have no destination, really,” Celestia answered. “I was thinking of heading to the mountains.” “Well, bless my soul, so am I!” Isah declared. “Tell you what, why don’t you travel with me there? It’d be lovely to have some company on the way there- and maybe you’ll find what you’re really looking for.” Isah was a strange creature, Celestia realized. Most certainly human, but possessing an otherness that she could not quite put her finger on. She looked into her eyes for fear she would find a shadow, but instead only saw the woman’s wise brown eyes looking at her, crinkled by a smile. “It- it would be lovely,” Celestia said, finding that she indeed meant it. “Wonderful! Now come on, have another helping- and here’s some fresh water, your voice sounds parched!” Isah said, taking another helping of stew herself before handing Celestia a fresh canteen. “No, no, don’t you worry! I always have two, you never want to know what’ll happen if one goes missing!” The foothills of the mountains were now ahead of them, what had been mere colored silhouettes at first were now majestic towers of rocks capped with white teeth that spoke to the snow on the higher levels. Some appeared to be simply uniform; circular caps of earth that had once been spires of fire and wrath now dormant, while others were strange and malformed, seeming more like broken glass rather than great peaks. Though Celestia had done little but simply walk along with her, Isah claimed she was glad of the ‘younger’ woman’s company in her travels. “It gets lonely out here in the wilds, you can imagine,” she said as they settled for the night, digging into her rucksack to extract a fresh bundle of firewood and begin her work. “I’ve been doing this for so long now, it’s just become normal to be out on my lonesome. It’s a nice change of pace.” “Here, allow me,” Celestia said, taking the bundle from her and snapping her fingers- a series of hot sparks erupted from them, setting the fire quickly to blaze. It was not much, but it was a sign that she was recovering; no exhaustion, no weariness or sensation of being drained from the effort. She was becoming strong once more. “Well, I certainly wish I had your talents. Started right up, didn’t it?” Isah said pleasantly, digging for her cooking pot. “We’ll get started in the morning just around sunrise, I think.” “Miss Isah…” “Oh, you can stop being so formal, love. We’re just a pair of old girls out on the lam.” “Isah- what are you hoping to even find out here?” “Well, I never quite know,” she said, poring over her cooking supplies. “I just go wherever I’m needed, I s’pose. One can never really tell what you’re really looking for, can you?” “I… guess not.” Isah sensed the woman’s disquiet. “You sure you don’t want to tell me what’s on your mind, dear?” “I would not know how to tell you,” Celestia admitted. Isah smiled, a small tinge of gentle laughter in her expression. “It’s alright, I understand how it can be sometimes. Do you think you’re the first one to wander with a heavy heart? After all, part of your heart isn’t even here with you, is it?” Celestia’s initial reaction was fear: had she been watched since she had arrived? Was Isah, just like the others from Moqesh, a spy for her enemy and all this land a ruse to lower her guard? “Don’t look so surprised, love, you don’t hide it very well. Always looking over your shoulder to see if someone’s there, talking in your sleep and reaching out as though someone should be there… who is he?” A tinge of shame became mixed with her paranoia. She had not yet fully lowered her guard, but perhaps it was unfair to remain so distrustful. “He was my husband,” she said lowly. “We traveled here together, but- I- he trusted me and I failed him.” Isah nodded, setting to work over her cooking pot. “Not an easy thing to mend, trust. Especially when it’s someone you love. It only makes it hurt all the more.” “I had been debating how to tell him the truth, and I didn’t make the right choice in time. He- suffered… because of me. He’s proud, and noble, so now that he had to do something horrible, it was because I’d been too late.” Isah said nothing as she continued to work, stirring the cooking pot slowly and humming a tune under her breath. To anyone who watched, it would appear that she only had feigned to listen, allowing Celestia’s words to become mere background noise. Celestia, however, could sense the deliberance in the woman’s movements, every motion carefully calculated as though she was preparing her thoughts- or reading Celestia’s. “What was that place like, to make you so afraid of a tiny woman like me?” Isah asked, suddenly sounding like the voice of an ancient being. “You tower over me. What have you to be fearful?” “I don’t know if I should tell you,” Celestia replied. “Who am I to you that you would care?” “Oh, just a little old woman walking through the world, with little to show for it,” Isah said pleasantly. “But you’re out here looking for something to help you. It’s not me, but I’d like to see you find it, if I can try.” It was foolhardy to believe her. The simplicity of it all was a masquerade to something else entirely, and though Isah appeared to be some simple woman, Celestia knew better. There was no accident in their meeting, and she wondered if the traveling woman had wandered out into the wilderness simply to find her. It was a test of sorts- but unlike the days in Moqesh amongst the Accursed, there was no sensation of a mouse in a trap; in Isah’s eyes there was only wisdom to be found. “When I was young, I was told even as a child that I was meant to protect people,” Celestia said. “I was trained to rule. To guide nations through turmoil and see them prosper- and push back against darkness when the time came. I have done a poor job of it.” “Perhaps you have- perhaps you haven’t,” Isah said, carving a carrot in her hands. “You don’t have to be afraid of prying eyes here, love. You have found the island in the midst of the sea, where the waves cannot touch you.” “I don’t deserve it. I was meant to preserve life, to nurture it- but every time I tried people die. Innocent lives, guilty, it never mattered. I even helped shadows grow stronger because I was too weak to do what was right. Shouldn’t I be made to drown in my failures, feel the blood on my hands? How can there be justice in the universe if people like me are allowed to live?” The words tumbled from her mouth without restraint, their poison wreaking havoc upon her. “I was meant to be a symbol of something much more than- than all this! My friends, my sister, and now my husband! How many lives are to suffer because of me? I can’t stand it, just let it fall upon me and be done with it! I don’t want to bear it any longer.” Isah reached out for her hands, taking them in her own and holding it tight. Celestia wanted to tug away, the sensation of dirtiness overwhelming her. It was a compassion she had been deemed unworthy of, yet the woman still persisted. She felt like a child covered in filth that was being cradled by her mother. “There’s not a soul who comes here that does not find themselves unworthy it,” Isah said quietly. “We’ve all been dirtied, whether it be our own or someone else’s. We scrub and scrub away at it until our skin turns red and bleeds, but it will never be enough to make us forget how it felt to be so dreadfully filthy. But here, in this place? All the evil things we’ve known will no longer matter. You’ll simply go on with your day and watch as they turn into months and years, and that’s when you find yourself: you’ve been made clean at last, and what a glorious thing you’ve finally become.” “But I don’t deserve it,” Celestia said lamely. “Bless your soul, of course you don’t!” Isah chuckled. “But what we ‘deserve’ doesn’t matter here. Love is here, and here it rules in finality. To give power and glory to something so far beneath it simply wouldn’t do.” “… Isah, where even am I?” The woman truly laughed now, clear and bright as the spring rain. “Goodness, you mean you haven’t already figured it out? Why not think about it for a moment, and let’s see what you find.” She had been part of these mountains for so long that she had nearly forgotten much of what had come before. The memories of her life before were becoming all the more dim with every passing day. The sight of her sister’s face were now little more than foggy memory, her days of rule in Equestria more akin to dream than hard reality. They had been shadows of things far greater; beloved because they had been just a little like this. Isah had come to be her dearest companion, a friend unlike any she had ever known. Stern and decisive when Celestia’s stubbornness demanded so, gentle and loving when she required it. She was an invaluable counselor, the parent Celestia had never known. Though neither seemed to have an aim or goal within the depths of the mountains, their time together was marvelously spent. “This is the third time you’ve come up to this peak, dear,” Isah said, standing a few feet below Celestia as the younger woman took her place atop the cragged point of rock. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you’re looking for something up here.” “I want to enjoy the view. How can I not be enraptured by this?” Celestia asked, her breath gently leaving her as the sight all around her truly began to sink in. Green, grey, and white shone all around her; snow upon mountaintops fell to hard, strong rock, eventually settling into brush and the trees of the foothills far below- with not a sight of civilization or touch of human life visible anywhere across the great horizon. All around her was pure, untamed beauty that had no use for the machinations of Man. Here there was wild country, and its denizens roamed free. It would have been perfect, were it not for the continuous tugging upon her heart. Every time she allowed her gaze to drift westward she could feel it: a voice in the wilderness calling out, beckoning her to its source. She heard the sound as though from a distance, clearly calling her name. It was great, glorious, and horrifying. She feared to even glance in its direction, knowing that the pull could become too strong and she would have to seek it out at last. “It is getting a mite windy up here,” Isah remarked. “Let’s go back to camp now and wait it out, shall we?” Celestia could have remained atop the mountain until the winds blew her away and had her dashed on the rocks below, but she relented, hearing the growing sternness in her friend’s voice. They had gotten along well for too long now it to be thrown away for so pointless a purpose. Their camp was just above the foothills, a small yet comfortable cave in the side of the mountain trail that was nestled from the wind. The two women watched the weather roil like the ocean waves in peace, secure from nature’s sudden strength. “We missed it by inches, didn’t we?” Celestia said. “If you hadn’t been there to tell me to come down…” “And I’m very glad I did, last thing I’d like to see is you tossed out onto some rocks and light’s out,” Isah replied. “I think the weather’s trying to say we’ve been on one lonely road for a little too long. Perhaps we should go somewhere different tomorrow, what do you think?” She knew. Of course she knew, for she was Isah and far more than any mere human could be. Celestia had found that fact to be a great source of comfort, as well as an occasional irritation. She would have no indication, no clue, yet she would somehow always know. It was a prescience that Celestia couldn’t fight against. “Did you have a particular idea in mind? You certainly seem to be thinking of something.” “Oh, that’s not my choice to make, love. I only go wherever I’m needed and you know it. Since when have I had a will of my own?” “Since you were born, I am assuming,” Celestia replied. “What else would I believe?” “I don’t quite know what you believe, love, and that’s what has me stumped. You’ve certainly put me for a ride.” “I’ll let you know what I think in the morning, Isah,” Celestia answered. “But for now, maybe we should rest for the evening. It has been a long day.” “Heaven knows it has, my feet are about to be rubbed raw,” Isah remarked. “Just promise me one thing, dear.” “Of course.” “That whatever choice you make, you won’t be afraid any longer.” Afraid of what? Celestia was left puzzled by her words, even more so by the woman’s expression that seemed to suggest a great seriousness on her countenance. Of course she would know. But Celestia was not yet willing to admit it. For the rest of her days, Celestia would say she truly tried to sleep through the night. The temperature within the cave was comfortable, and sheltered from the elements that continued to roil outside, nor was her place within uncomfortable, a thick roll beneath her head to avoid pain. Yet throughout the night she tossed and turned, waking incessantly despite the exhaustion that weighed down her bones. It seemed as though every few minutes she would awaken and find herself unsettled, clearly awake and knowing she should be somewhere, anywhere but here. She tried to ignore it and quell the discomfort within her, but every time it would only return with a renewed intensity. She took herself to the cave mouth, peering out into the wilderness outside where the faintest glow of the rising dawn could be seen on the horizon. She had once been tied to such a being, knowing its power within the palm of her hand. She had been powerful, a mighty creature nigh unrivaled across the world. One of the last of her kind, a sturdy wall against the darkness… now she lay here with little idea of what she had tried to achieve over the millennia, and whether all her effort had been in vain.- A flash of sunlight across her face and her heart came aflutter, a place calling for her so deeply that she could deny it no longer. She had to leave, and wait not a moment longer. She glanced back at Isah, who appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Celestia decided not to wake her, quietly taking her leave and disappearing deep into the mountains to the place where her soul longed to be. The journey felt as though it were mere minutes, though the length of the sun spoke to several hours. She felt no weariness, no sweat on her brow though the terrain was likely perilous. Celestia walked on, climbing cliffs and scaling rock faces as she made her search, determined to not rest for a moment until she had found what was driving her so desperately. She thought little of the troubles in her journey, nor did she use magic to ease her struggles. To feel the earth against her hands, the roughness of stone and feel the power of nature about her was what she wanted, her body continuing on while her mind drifted. I have always believed, even when I was young, that there is no such thing as an accident, she said to herself, that every thing that ever happens, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem, is purposeful. It was no accident that my sister and I were sent to Equestria, that I have always known. But everything else that came after: Luna and I’s separation, Sunset Shimmer’s exile, Twilight’s ascendancy, meeting Ford and marrying him, all of this… every good and evil thing I have ever done and let come to pass. I still believe it has a meaning somewhere- but what? Celestia at last scrabbled up a sharp outcropping and found herself looking down into a grove of trees, perfectly made and all centered on a single, distinct, wrought-iron gateway. It should have been expected, and she almost felt a tinge of disappointment. All of that yearning for this? Apprehensive nonetheless, Celestia ventured down into the grove towards it. The path was unnaturally clear, as though the trees stepped aside to grant her entry to her goal. She found the gateway with ease, reaching out to feel its cold, lifeless metal frame beneath her fingers and finding it lifeless with its doors tightly sealed. “I don’t understand…” “All roads open when they are ready to be traveled on,” said a voice, Celestia turning about to find Isah walking towards her, a knowing look on her face that made the young woman wonder if she had always known of its presence. “We walk their path when the time is right, and not a moment before. Though we stumble, fall, and sometimes fail, we are exactly where we are meant to be. Maybe, dear, that is something you have not yet understood.” “Why would it call for me if it were not yet open?” Celestia asked. “I need to go through, Sombra is somewhere beyond here. If I wait, people will die- I have enough blood on my hands, I don’t wish for more! It needs to open now!” Her anger had left her seething, feeling more like a child throwing a tantrum than an immortal warrior. Isah shook her head sadly, seemingly disappointed. “You’ve come so far to stare it right in the face, yet still you don’t understand. Love bless you, here I was thinking you were smart. It is quite simple: the road is not ready to receive you. What lies beyond asks more of you than you, in your present state, can truly give.” “I’ve wasted enough time. I have to go- I’ve spent years within this palace, I will not give more to that tyrant. I will seek him out until I have him beneath my boots! Now help me open this!” “I cannot. Nor would I hope to try,” Isah answered. “There are things beyond us both, little one. I would not see it come early when it would mean the destruction of far worse.” “But there’s already been destruction! Entire worlds are ravaged because of him, and I could have stopped it all from happening in the first place!” Celestia was incensed to the brink of uncontrollable rage, desperate to break through. Sparks erupted from her hands and it was all she could do to not hurl herself at her companion. “Please, I have to see this done! I can’t wait any longer! If he harms anyone else-” “Sombra’s arm can grow no further, little one. He is a Created thing, just as you are. Or have you fought against his shadow for so long that you have forgotten?” Isah said, suddenly growing taller and coming to tower above the lesser woman. “You fear the darkness as though it holds strength greater than all others, and in doing so you have paid tribute to it. The darkness is not strength. It is not courage, nor wisdom or skill. It is an absence, an emptiness, and within it there is nothing. It cannot grow beyond what light allows, for the light sends darkness away with only a small flicker of strength. Throw your gaze away from the abyss, and grant it no worth or respect.” Celestia dared not look at her companion a moment longer, falling prostrate on the ground and fearing the sudden rush about her. Wind strong as a hurricane, heat greater than any fire, the earth trembling all around. A frenetic chaos so great that she wondered if she would be dashed into nothing and tossed into the ether. But almost as quickly as it began it departed, leaving only the simple sounds of nature at peace, with a gentle hand falling on her shoulder. “Stop seeking definition from the darkness; all it has ever been is empty. You are of Light, and in it is all that you are ever meant to be.” “I do not know if I can do such a thing. I am too weak.” “Of course you are. So how comforting it must be to know that you are not meant to go it alone! The time has come: not to wage war, not to heed the call of battle, but to rest. To see thyself grow, and at last know who you truly are,” Isah said. “Sombra is bound, knowing neither rest nor peace and agony is upon him, for time itself refuses to aid him. Let no thought of him pass your mind, for the time has not yet come. Here there is water, and food that will give you strength. Eat, drink, and know peace, for the time of weariness is over. The morning has come at last: revel in it.” Celestia looked back at the gateway one last time, seeing its emptiness more clearly than ever before. No whisper emanated from its depths, no light escaped through the cracks. The calling in her heart that had drawn her to this place was now gone. “Where should I go from here?” she inquired of her guide. “I cannot say. I believe, dear one, that our time together is coming to an end,” Isah replied. “But I would say that the time now given to you should be spent well. After all, it’s never wise to waste a gift.” Celestia felt an idea worm its way into her brain and she smiled, already wondering how to take the first step. “One last thing, then,” she said.” “Oh? And what’s that?” “Who are you, really? And where am I?” Isah smiled, already beginning to walk away. “Goodness, you still don’t know? After all, the answer is right in front of you!” Ford scrubbed hard against his skin, keeping them deep under the water’s flow as he worked. Not long after he had left the shoreline, he had found a shallow tidal creek that suited his needs perfectly, and he had set down to get to work and clean himself thoroughly. His rise through the saltwater had done much to cleanse himself of the dirt and grime that had settled upon him from their escape through the city, but the blood that had drenched him again and again had proven to be stubborn. He felt it on his skin, burning through his flesh and eating it away until he could stand it no longer. Grabbing some sand from the creek’s edge he had begun his work, trying to scour himself clean. Thirty minutes later and little had changed, the crimson stain having fallen upon him and seemingly content to stay. He could still see it, still feel it on him. The more he worked, the closer he came to panic and he knew it would not be long before he threw himself into the water in a last attempt to rid himself of the sensation. They could have stopped. They should have stopped. If only they’d stopped. Sombra had them in his grasp so deeply they couldn’t even find the strength to rise against it. How long had he been there, holding them captive? And that arena- had they killed others, even some of their own for his pleasure? Did they do it with those smiles, so happy in what they had done? They just kept coming, the moment one fell another would take his place. Endlessly, until I could even smell the stench. I tried everything I could to make them stop, but they wouldn’t listen- “Easy, son! Take a breather, you’re about ready to keel over!” A pair of hands, gnarled and strong, began to drag him away from the riverbank- Ford screamed aloud and reached for his weapon, pointing it with intent towards his attacker. “Don’t do it!” he shrieked. “Whoa! Easy there, son! No need to be hasty, just trying to help, I am!” The man’s hands were raised in surrender, looking at the pointed edge of the blade with wide eyes. “Come on, now, let’s put that down, shall we? No need for anyone to get hurt, just trying to help.” Ford’s senses returned to him and he felt cold horror. “Damn my soul- I am sorry!” he threw the blade aside, falling back to his knees in complete surrender. “I mean no harm, I swear to you. Do with me as you will.” “No harm, he says. Well, I guess I only gave you a right scare, so all’s fair,” the man replied. “I heard you splashing about and wondered what all the ruckus was about, and found you about ready to keel over and get your head stuck in the mud. You alright, son?” Ford’s fright finally fled him and his senses returned to normality. No, the man before him was not an armed foe ready to strike, but instead a simple farmer. Thin grey hair the color of ash, with a taut face that gave the appearance of constant nervousness, but possessing calm brown eyes and a gentle voice. “Well, son? I didn’t scare your voice away, did I? You certainly look a fright.” “Please,” Ford pleaded, his breath coming in uneven gasps. “Please, take that sword and run it through me. Just do it.” “What? I’m sorry, son, I don’t think I heard that right-” “Kill me!” Ford screamed, his voice cracking as he fell to the ground. “I am begging you, please just kill me.” He could see their faces clearly as though they still stood before them. Still alive, still breathing, but slashed and hacked away into ribbons by his own hands. Ford heard the sound of steel scraping against earth and he knew the man had taken the blade in hands. By instinct he flinched, waiting for the swift clean cut that would be his end- but instead, a hand reached under his shoulder and lifted him up back to his feet. “Come on now, that’s it,” said the man, helping Ford rise and stagger away from the creek. “You’ve had a rough time of it, no doubt about that. Looks like you’ve rubbed your hands so raw they’re bleeding, no wonder you’re in such a mood. Let’s get you home and see what we can do, eh?” He did not know how long he was led along, Ford’s vision little more than a blur of the ground beneath his feet as he stumbled along. A haze of green and brown with indistinct sounds and voices mixed within, barely audible over the noise of the city still ringing in his ears. Faces of innocents still gleamed clear in his mind, the hundreds –if not thousands- who had fallen by his hand, all when he was too tired and weary to care. He had begged for death, pleaded for its embrace- yet still it did not come. What wretched punishment he had been dealt. “Ethel! I could use your help out here!” called the man, seemingly nearby to some of his fellows. Ford could hear the murmurs of distress all around him, an occasional pair of hands falling upon him from anywhere around him. He would flinch away, waiting for a blow that never came. “No, no, he’s been injured. Let him be, I say, the poor man’s had enough. Come on, son, let’s see you get cleaned up.” He had not noticed, but the swelling on his wounds had increased exponentially, and what little vision he had possessed was now dim and obscured. The bruising and beatings he had been dealt by his tormented foes suddenly came down upon him in power and he felt their wrath on his shoulders. He wondered if the wetness on his face was indeed tears; he could not tell. He merely wished it would stop: a sudden, permanent ceasing to his agony that simply would not leave. Murderer, killer, slaughterer of thousands. Lesser son to greater foes, the one who would never be worthy- A dampness fell on his eyes and Ford flinched back with a small scream- “It’s alright, love, no need to fret. Heaven knows you can’t see what I’m doing,” said a woman’s voice, soothing and calm on his frayed nerves. “Don’t worry, just trying to clean you up a bit. We’ll have you right soon, though it may be a day or two before you see out of this eye again. Can’t imagine what you’ve been though, getting scars like this- and carrying such a weapon! You must’ve seen quite a battle, certainly not on these shores, that I have no doubt. Now you just sit tight, I’ll have you fixed right up in no time.” “Don’t talk his ear off, the poor man’s already battered enough. Just fix ‘im up, love,” said the man from somewhere nearby. “Sorry about her, she’s a right chatterbox when she gets going, pay her no mind.” “Pay me no mind? I’m the one trying to put his face back together, he better pay me some mind! And don’t you try to talk to me like that when I’m trying to take care of another one of your friends like this. Heaven knows why I even do it, what with all your moaning and groaning…” A small laugh, gentle and kindly against the banter. “Women. You’ll never win, my friend. Best to just let them have the last word, eh?” Ford tried to speak. It was not a weak effort but instead a genuine, concentrated attempt that was dulled by his own tears and pain, reduced to a mere splutter. It was pathetic: a man who had traveled through worlds and seen agonies and torments the likes of which never imagined, now reduced to a blubbering mess by his own actions. He was disgusted. “It’s alright, son, try to save your breath. You look like you’ve been through a war, you know,” said the man, a hand placed on Ford’s shoulder to keep him grounded. “Let’s get you cleaned up before you try talking again, eh?” “You should have killed me,” Ford managed to stammer, his words barely manageable to the ear through the wetness and his own roiling emotions.’ “I don’t know how we could have done such a thing, son. Come on. Rest up, we’ll have you settled in no time.” The mere fact that he was alive was nightmare enough. Ford woke to find one eye still operated, the other swollen shut for the time being. Darkness had descended on his world, the peaceful sounds of a gentle night ringing in his ears. He looked about, finding himself in a cottage of sorts and left unfamiliar. A trap. Another ruse to lower my guard. Flee while you still can. Ford found the door and crashed through, running out into the night wildly like a beast on the loose. The sound of footsteps was not far behind him, erratic and uneven as though woke from a deep slumber. “Hey, no need for that now!” said a voice, one he recognized from earlier. “It’s alright, son, no one here’s going to hurt you. You can rest here-” “Where’s my broadsword?” Ford demanded. “Give it to me now. I want it!” “It’s back in the cottage, son. I’ve got it with me for safekeeping for now, till you’ve got yourself in order,” said the man. “Now come on, let’s go on back, get some rest. Your body certainly needs it, lad.” “Put it through me. Strike me down,” Ford insisted. “I’ll do no such thing, and I won’t hear such talk again,” the man replied, suddenly stern. “No one is alive by accident, son. I won’t be a member to a purposeful death. Now come on, let’s go back inside. Sleep will be the best thing you can get now.” He wanted to run. To flee and race off into the darkness until exhaustion overcame him and he fell at last into an eternal slumber. But some small part of him that still wished to press on held firm, urging him to listen and hold on for just a little longer, a little longer. “My name is George,” said the man. “I don’t know if I told you earlier, what with you being so twitchy and unhappy. Tried to rub the skin right off your hands, you did.” “Saber Ford,” he replied. “Come on back, Ford. There’s a good warm bed missing its master,” George said. “I sure think you need it.” It was no worse than any decision he could have made. Ford sat across from the elderly couple, a mug of tea in hand as he told his story. His hands were still heavily bandaged, kept safe from the elements as the damage he had dealt to himself slowly began to heal. “You nearly rubbed right down to the bone in some places,” Ethel had told him. “Began to wonder if you wanted to be a ghost.” “You should have let me,” Ford said dully. “Now that’s enough of that. No need to keep going down that road, it doesn’t do any body good- certainly not yourself,” George replied. “You’ve had enough harm. Don’t try to add more.” Ford sighed, leaning over his mug in abject defeat. What did it matter? Celestia was gone, having disappeared into the wild somewhere and leaving no trace. Ford, aided by his newfound companion, had combed the beach for any sign of her and found nothing. Sombra had won and not even fought in the battle at all. “You’ll find her again, son,” George said encouragingly. “From what you’ve told us it’d be more difficult for her to fail. And especially here.” “I shouldn’t have said what I did,” Ford said. “It was such a long time ago, and she obviously regretted it otherwise she would have told me sooner. But it was so close, and- and what I’d just done- I didn’t know what to do. I should have done better.” “And so everyone says, when they come here,” Ethel said warmly. “We all look back and think of what we could have done, but that doesn’t matter here. Here there is only now, and that’s all that ever will be. Take time to rest and heal, love. You certainly need it.” “I should have stayed with her- I just left her there. I broke her,” Ford said. “Then it was time for her to be broken. Made irreparable so that real healing can begin. Here, no falsity or half-efforts may do. It is all or nothing in this place,” George replied. “If I asked you to kill me,” Ford said, “would you?” “Not a chance, son. I think you’re going to live for a very long time,” George answered. “For now, those weapons of yours stay with me- at least until you feel better. You can stay here with us for the time being, heaven knows we’d like the company of a young soul to help liven up the place. What with the weather turning, any help we have with the crops would be welcome. What do you say?” Ford wanted to deny them. But now left aimless, without guidance or purpose, he was at the whim of the wind. So he stayed. The work was hearty for his soul, long and tiring. He had not known just how deeply his body had waned since their journey began all those years ago. Every day’s effort he put in would bring himself to be exhausted, falling onto his bed in a tired, filthy heap. If it weren’t for Ethel’s insistence that he clean himself before falling asleep, it was likely that Ford would not have bathed at all that first week. But, at her request, he would rouse his sore muscles into action once more and head for the springs. “Had I known it would be this hard,” he said, sitting in a chair hunched over a bowl of stew, “I would have run to the hills.” George chuckled, taking a deep spoonful of the meal and giving a sigh of pleasure. “Well, I’m certainly glad you didn’t, son. It’s been a right pleasure to have you around, especially working out in the fields. The village has been getting a little older and a little smaller each day. It’s nice to have someone fresh and young to help around.” “As long as I don’t find myself worn down after every day, I certainly don’t mind,” Ford remarked, raising his arm and laughing to himself as he observed how much it trembled with the effort. “I thought myself as strong, once. I’m a soldier, but this- I must have fallen away after all those years.” “You’ll grow strong from it, son, don’t you worry,” George replied. “You’ll be stronger just for being here. A little more full, a little more free- more yourself than you’ve ever been.” Ford didn’t understand what he meant but let it fall to the wayside, digging into his stew as his hunger only grew with each bite. Little was said during the rest of the meal, Ford’s thoughts drifting to that city and all that had transpired. With a sinking sensation that he knew to be guilt, his mind settled upon Celestia and the last sight of her he had ever seen. Had it really been only a week since they had last seen one another? And where was she now? If I’d only had the self-control. I shouldn’t have abandoned her. It wasn’t her fault that she was ashamed of it. “You’ve got that look on your face again,” Ethel remarked, breaking the warrior out of his reverie. “She’s on your mind again, is she?” “No one has seen her anywhere,” Ford muttered, stirring the remnants of his meal listlessly. “She was my responsibility. I was supposed to keep her safe, and that was just my duty as a soldier. I was -I am- her husband, and I just- I abandoned her.” To their credit, the elderly couple said nothing, merely letting the moment pass as Ford struggled to control his emotions, trying to find the moment where his mind would be steadied. It was a difficult task, especially when her face would flash in his eyes. Kind eyes, a face as fair as the morning sun, hair that shined brighter than any rainbow; it was the light of his boyhood, a fantasy that had been kept in the darkest recesses of his mind, to be shared to no one. Yet, somehow, it had become real. A dream- then a nightmare that the two of them had conjured together. “I should have done something,” Ford said miserably. “Anything but what I did. Just to leave her there when she must have thought the world was ending. But then- if she’d just told me sooner! Why’d it have to be right then and there? She wasn’t proud of it or else it wouldn’t have been a big deal. But…” “I think it’s time we cleaned up for the evening,” George said, taking the bowls off the table and setting them aside. “Come on, son. The stars’ll be out soon, it’d be a good watch.” “I gave her my life. Even when I was just a boy, it’s all I ever wanted.” Ford looked around, as though trying to find some familiar sight to cling to. “What do I do now? Who even am I?” “You’re you. Maybe that’s something you should try to know.” His time in the fields, despite the increased workload, became easier. Each breath felt fuller than the last, each day he awoke the more his mind would clear. Ford often tried to figure out why. Part of him, a part did not, and what little remained did not care. He was slowly becoming more and more himself with each passing day. A step deeper into this land and the more whole he was, as though he had lived all his years as nothing more than a shadow, or trying to see his reflection in a dirtied mirror. Here, he could see clearly. After some time had passed, George came to him with a heavily wrapped item in hand, long in form. It did not take much effort to deduce what it was. “I think it’s time you took it back,” the man said, his face gravely serious. Ford’s hands went to receive it and the older man pressed it into his hands with great delicacy, looking down upon it as though it were a foul poison. The effect was so great that even Ford, its wielder, was afraid to have it in his hands. “What- what do I do with it?” Ford asked. “That matter is up to you, son,” George said. “But know this, and know it well: something will have to be done, and only you can do it.” Ford’s door was closed on him and the man was left alone with the cloaked blade in hand. He gently put it up against the wall, keeping it covered as he turned to his bed and decided to rest. Throughout the night he awoke again and again, his eyes drawn towards its presence as though it were a specter. Even when he awoke, its sight was enough to turn his stomach. Ford checked that the door was indeed closed before turning to unwrap the weapon, holding it firmly in hand. The stains of blood were still upon its, its dark-grey blade painted a deep crimson. He rubbed at it with his thumb and found it would not fade, even after much effort and a thick rag pressed against it. The blade had been left with an indelible mark and would possess the blood of its slain forever. And there, just at the edge of his senses, he wondered if he could still smell that iron scent in the air- He wrapped it up tightly, tossing it underneath his bed where it would be out of sight, despising even the thought of it. But like a monster beneath his bed, it haunted him. For weeks Ford worked, trying to think of what to do with the foul thing. It was in his mind with every waking second. Through toil and work, through celebration and happiness; even when his own cottage was built by his own hands and the aid of his friends did the thought of it not leave him. It was a great cloud that would not leave him be. “Well, that’s certainly got you settled in proper,” Ethel said happily, exiting the cottage doors with a smile on her face. “Now I’ll bring over some fruits for you so you can have that bowl filled up so you’ll have something good to eat when your wife comes back- whatever’s the matter, dear?” Ford sat upon a nearby stone, cradling his head in his hands as he rocked back and forth, the broadsword uncovered and lying before him. “Don’t go on fretting, we’ll think of something- George, come back over here!” Ethel called, and soon the sound of her husband’s footsteps came rushing up towards them. “I think he’s having a bit of a bad moment.” “You’ve been nothing but tight-lipped for a month now about this thing,” George said, his tone even and calm. “I think it’s time you made up your mind of what you want to do with it.” “I hate it. I hate the sight of it. I want it gone!” Ford cried. “Take it away, get rid of it! Do anything!” George shook his head slowly. “I can’t do that, son,” he said. “This sword is part of you now. And only you can know what is to be done with it.” Ford stared at the blade as though it were a fetid corpse, despising its sight. “I hate the sight of it. Of any blades, any weapon made by Man. I’ll never wield a sword again, not even if it were to cost my life. I will not be an arbiter of death, even against Sombra himself. I will protect, I will safeguard, but I will never hold steel in my hands ever again. I refuse.” “So then… what do you want to do with it, son?” Ford found himself shivering as the thought he had kept dormant finally found light in his brain. “I will destroy it. See its shards scattered like dust in the wind.” George nodded, taking the blade in hand and presenting it before Ford. “So let’s see it done. Take it and plunge it against the stone you sit on. It’ll do more than well enough.” Ford laughed bitterly, taking the weapon though it burned against his skin at the merest touch. “This sword would split that stone in half. Not even a scratch on the-” “Do you really not understand what this place is, even after all this time?” George asked of him. “You are here, part of it more than you have yet been before, and this sword is all that ties you to what you want to leave behind. You are in a place that is Real, and all that you have known since is just a shadow. That stone will take your false blade and shatter it into bits, if you wish it.” Ford took the sword and held it high, preparing to plunge it against the rock only to find himself trembling violently. Though the steel burned against him, though every second was torturous, a great grief had arisen in his soul and wearied him of the task. “Does the desire of old still hold onto you?” George said, suddenly becoming more great and glorious than any chivalrous knight of ancient days, a fairness about him that could not be defined or explained by any words of human thought or rationale, and Ford felt his body burn just to be near him. “You have come to the point of no return. Either the blade is destroyed or you must leave this place, for no shadow can be allowed haven here. Throw aside your pain and misery, and become what your soul has always longed to be.” “I can’t,” Ford gasped, blood beginning to drip down his hands as his flesh was scorched away by the blade’s heat. “But I must be rid of it.” “So be rid of it, then. No sense in waiting any longer.” George was insistent, unable to be sated. “I do not know if I can.” “Of course you can. But it will hurt.” That gave Ford pause, and for a brief moment his hands began to falter. “It will hurt?” “Goodness, of course it will! Otherwise it would not be so hard!” “Well- how badly?” Ford spluttered. “Worse than anything you have ever felt before.” “But to be rid of it-!” Ford felt its heat and had never known he could hate such a thing so deeply. “To be rid of it will be more than you have ever known.” “Am I to be sure of it?” he asked, practically begging the man who was so much more than any Man could ever hope to be. “It must be done. Do not allow yourself to wait.” Ford wanted to drop the blade, so great was his pain. “... Maybe another time.” “All time is here now. There can be no other day in which it will be done.” “But I am afraid,” he cried. “And that is why it must be gone.” Ford’s gaze, wide-eyed and wild, flickered madly between the blade above, the stone below, and the one who urged him on. Sweat fell on his brow in constant droplets, intermixed with the blood that now flowed freely from his hands, and he wondered if he could take a moment more- A scream that broke like the sound of thunder and Ford fell to his knees, driving the sword hard against the stone in a single, swift, glorious motion. The sword shattered against it and its metal faded into dust, Ford driving it so deep that not even the hilt was spared, all of it blasted away and turned into little more than a cloud of grey that flitted off in the breeze, disappearing in a moment’s breath. “Good on you, lad!” George cried triumphantly, giving the younger man a hearty thwack on the back in congratulations. “You had a moment there and you went through it all, breaking that blade and hilt and there you are! Now look, there’s not a mite of it left, eh… you alright, son?” Ford shuddered and kept his head bowed, a great cry escaping his lips as he began to weep, all his agonies and sorrows and joys coming together and overwhelming him at last. “That’s it, it’s all over, son. Don’t you even give it the time of day,” George said, kneeling down beside him as the young man continued on. “It’s all over, done and over with no questions asked. Look! Raise your head and see for yourself: not a single bit of it remains.” Ford, his form wretched from pain and his own tears, dared to raise his head and caught sight of the sun- a glorious sky with endlessly vivid color, breathtaking to behold… and not a single shard of steel in sight, no smell to cloud his senses. “I’m free,” he said wetly, a true smile rising on his face. George laughed, helping the young man to his feet. “Yes, I think you are. Come on, let’s make that house of yours all good and proper. Won’t be long before you won’t be alone again.” How long had it truly been, they both wondered? Had their time simply dragged on so greatly that what had seemed eternity was only days? Had years passed by? Weeks or months as it had truly seemed? For all their days they would wonder, and no matter what was said, they never truly found an answer. Celestia’s first footsteps into that peaceful village did not go unseen, though she had hoped to, at first, be discreet. As she walked down a well-worn path, a horse and cart came around the bend, a woman at the cusp of middle age at the reins. As she caught sight of Celestia, she smiled and gave a wave. “You’re looking in the wrong place, you know,” she said, pulling back gently so as to slow her steed. “He lives out in the farmlands, just back the way I came. Best guess is he’s out in the fields right now, busy with harvest and what not. Bet they’d all be glad for an extra hand.” “You know who I am?” Celestia asked. The woman spoke to her as though they had known one another their entire lives. “Of course I do!” the woman said pleasantly. “Told us all about you, he did. Think it’s safe to say he’s been waiting for you.” Celestia laughed, wondering what sort of welcome she would be given. More than that, she was curious as to what changes he had endured- just who was he now, after all this time? “I already know your name. He’s said it more times than I can count,” the woman remarked, stepping down from her cart and offering her hand to the newcomer. “I’m Clara.” It was such a simple gesture, yet seemed to possess all the welcome in the world as Celestia took it. “It’s nice to meet you.” “Be staying here for a while?” Celestia gave a small, quick laugh; did everyone somehow know what she had already found? “I certainly hope so.” “My husband and I are the greengrocers here. Come by if you ever need anything,” Clara said, turning to head into the store and out of sight. The walk out into the true countryside was a tranquil one, marked only by the calls of birds and the occasional traveler, often with an animal in tow. No matter what age they were, or what task they had at hand, all seemed willing to offer a smile and a wave with a warm hello whenever they caught sight of her. Celestia welcomed it, feeling a warmth among these fellows that she had not felt in years upon years. Not even her days in a new world with a weary humanity, had been as clean and clear as this. Eventually the path began to peter out, the worn road cutting through a great field of what would become healthy crops, the furrows freshly crafted and ready for planting. Off in the distance a team of oxen were steadily moving along, guided by a man with a sack of seeds tossed across his shoulders and his fellow, the two having a hearty conversation filled with laughter and warmth that could be heard even at this distance. Celestia smiled at the sight of him, knowing that calm stride by memory and quickly noticing the differences in it. It was a slower pace, more relaxed, yet lighter in a way that had let him come to stand tall. No sword could be seen on his hip, nor sign of any weapon at all. She was not sure whether it was the sun, shining clear in the sky, or something else entirely that made him glow so brightly, but she had never seen him be anything like this. She felt a tinge of fear in her heart as she came to approach him, wondering how he would receive her. Had her path –or perhaps his- been so arduous that now they would be separate? It did not take long to find out. Perhaps he heard her footsteps in the dirt, or just by some sense felt her presence; Ford turned his head to look upon her, a small smile barely visible on his face. “We’d be glad if you’d start planting in the furrows,” he said, speaking to her as though no time had passed at all. “George needs a little help keeping the oxen going so I’ll have to stay up here with him. It’d help us get done faster.” “Of course,” she replied, taking the bags from his outstretched hands and setting to work. For a moment she paused, wondering if to simply use her magic and be done with it. But as she went to do so, a hesitation came in her, followed by desire. She wanted to feel the earth against her hands, allow the simplicity and peace of it to fill her. She knelt down and began, allowing the time to pass. Perhaps it was only moments, or perhaps hours. Soon she found herself reunited with the two men, an empty sack in her hands as she came to them. “I’ll leave you two be,” George said, taking the oxen and leading them back to the barn. “Let you catch up.” “You don’t need my help bringing them back?” “No, no, don’t be worrying over me like that yet, I’m not that old,” George replied. “Besides, I think these poor beasts are even more tired than I am. Go on, both of you.” Celestia and Ford watched the man walk slowly away, his weary livestock following peacefully behind him as they were led along. “He hired me on a while ago,” Ford remarked. “Once he helped me build the cottage, guess he figured I’d look for something to do. I… I like it. Helping make things grow.” “It suits you,” Celestia replied, taking in his appearance. His hair still held flecks of grey, along with his beard. His clothes were worn, soiled by stains and rips where tools and wear had found their mark. Yet when she looked upon him in entirety, she found a youthfulness in him that had never been there before and she wondered if there was something of the same within her as well. “There’s a pond nearby,” Ford said, taking her by the hand and leading her along. “George put a bench there a bit before I got here. You look like you’ve been traveling a while.” “And I have.” Ford laughed gently. “I’d like to hear about it.” The two settled down on opposing sides, allowing the silence to fill the gap for a time as the warmth of the early evening began to settle on the land, watching as the sun slowly turned dull and the birds above began to flitter back to their homes. “Ford…” “You don’t need to worry,” he said suddenly, cutting through her words before she could even say them. “I’ve forgiven you. I understand how it must have weighed upon you.” She knew she would have had to ask, and was grateful for the swift response. “If I could go back and undo it, I would,” she said. “But I don’t think it would have even mattered.” “No, I don’t think it would have,” Ford agreed. “Besides, such thoughts don’t matter here- so I’ve been told.” She smiled. “I found it. The gateway.” “I figured you would. It was closed?” “I believe you would have known otherwise,” she said, watching as a frog leaped into the pond and left a series of ripples across the placid waters. “Ford, I… I missed you.” He had his arms about her before even the first tear had fallen, holding her so tightly as though he feared she would dissolve into nothingness. “I’ve thought about you every day since I left you there,” he whispered, his own voice husky. “And I’m glad to see you again.” Their tears fell in earnest, soon turning into uncontained laughter as their emotions simply overtook them, the evening falling in earnest before they had at last recovered, still wrapped in each other’s arms. “Please don’t leave. Not again,” she hiccupped. “Not now, not ever,” he said fervently. “I’ll keep the promise I made, no matter what.” She gave a brilliant smile, kissing him over and over again just to make sure it was real. “Just how long were you here waiting for me?” “I never know. Sometimes it feels like eternity. How long were you out there in the wilds?” “It could have been forever,” she replied. “We have all the time in the world now. To rest, to heal… to really live. What do you want to do?” “Well, if you’re willing,” Ford said, “I was hoping we could stay here.” She took him by the hand and they rose to their feet, walking away to join the others. “I was hoping for the same thing.”