It is a bad idea to go into the Everfree Forest alone.
It was an even worse idea to go in alone when sick or injured.
Marjoram, though he was relatively new to Ponyville, had learned much about the Everfree Forest before Twilight had forced his hoof and made them all move to Ponyville proper. He’d read papers, studied books, and heard lectures.
It was one of the last few places where nature reigned free, unbridled and untamed. Like everywhere used to be. Before pony magic came in and ponies evolved to change the nature of the very ground around them. Sucking the magic from places to ensure their own comfort or survival. It was rare to see a wild zone at all.
Let alone see one that shared a border with a settlement. One that had been growing steadily for decades no doubt. For every centimeter that the earth ponies gained on the forest, the more dangerous the forest became.
It didn’t matter that one could still hear the windmills, slamming of doors, excited shouting from the edge of the forest.
What mattered was knowing you were in the forest, and knowing that the rules of survival immediately changed.
The weather was different for one. Colder, usually. Though in the heat of summer it was sometimes hotter. No one knew. Only a few had survived in the forest long enough to say for certain, but none of their answers matched up.
Today, at least, was cooler. Which Marjoram wouldn’t normally have enjoyed, but he knew enough to bring his thick, red cloak. And that was enough to shield him from the worst of the chill.
Staying to the paths would save someone's life. If they were quick, careful, and quiet. Stick to the paths the books, pamphlets, and ponies all said. Stick to the path, and whatever creatures or terrors lurking within the dense fogs, mists, and foliage would leave you be. Most of the time.
Even those who stuck hard to the rules sometimes never returned, and that was the hard part. Gauging probability.
Marjoram was an oddity. What he lacked in physicality he more than made up for in magic and cleverness. This wasn’t the first time he’d entered the forest, walked these trails. Mapping them out to the best of his ability.
He’d seen timberwolf dens, seen some of the stranger foliage to call the forest home. He’d even managed to see a manticore cub once. Just a glimpse of one out on the trail before he teleported home.
Manticores are territorial and protective, the females less so than males, but like with bears, it’s best not to get near their young. He had erred on the side of caution, which he had a sneaking suspicion was part of how he was still alive to remember the experience.
Walking through the twisting paths was becoming secondary to the slim unicorn. Ears perked and swiveling for noise, hoofsteps light. He’d even brought his oxygen so he wouldn’t wheeze so much.
Caution kept you alive out here. Part of Marjoram wondered what would happen if he told Rainbow Dash or Applejack about his excursions out here. Would they scoff, belittle him, or call him liar? Would they start doing the same?
Applejack was more cautious of the two. She’d probably be alright, if she kept her head on her shoulders. But when Rainbow came into the mix, she sometimes forgot herself.
Would they lead each other into their own doom?
Marjoram didn’t know, so he kept quiet about it. To Twilight’s friends at any rate. Spike knew about them after the fact. Marjoram didn’t want him to worry so much, knowing he had his claws full with Twilight.
Still. It was...hard to walk the twisting, impossible paths of the Everfree. Not just because of the danger it posed, or the questions. But knowing that once, long ago, this had been the seat of Equestrian power.
A city of ruins lay deep in the heart of the forest, and it had once been the crown jewel of Equestrian power. A golden ray of hope and light to all that looked upon it and wondered how two pony princesses had managed it.
Some historians called it a Golden Age. Where learning and magic and civilization had never been higher.
But those same historians also forgot that gold was the colour of change: autumn trees and golden sunsets. Time for change, and for ending.
Marjoram wished he knew someone who could understand that. Trotting through the woods, alone. Seeing glimpses of sunlight streaming through the canopy above. Just little hints, just enough for him to remember that it was mid-morning.
He had plenty of time. This path was one, that as far as anypony knew, hadn’t changed. Leading into the heart of the ruined city. It’s name all but stricken from the record. Some called it Everfree City, some Calmare, some the Forgotten city.
Regardless of name or title, it was likely the only ones who remembered it's true name were Celestia and Luna. And neither of them were keen to speak of their failure. Canterlot was elegant and great, as were most of the other cities of Equestria.
Many said their greatness was nothing in comparison to the city that was lost. Which spoke volumes as to why they didn’t want to speak of it. Much less Nightmare Moon, and the grief there.
Marjoram didn’t blame them. He was simply curious. Curious enough to risk everything by making trips to the ruined city and take notes, make maps. Sketch what he could.
One day, he planned on painting one of the courtyards as it might have looked. Maybe he’d present it to the royal sisters. Maybe not. While he didn’t fear Celestia like Twilight sometimes did, he did respect her enough to know not to prod at still sore wounds.
It took almost an hour to walk to the outskirts of what remained of the city. Walls broken and crumbling. The dirt path occasionally broken by flagstones that haven’t yet sunken into the earth. Sculptures, fountains, benches. Some of the pieces are large enough to speak volumes of the magnificence of the place.
The place had to have been beautiful. A dream dreamt up by two gods, and playing out in marbled splendor. Wide walkways, crumbling, lead to the river that bisects the forest. Still visible, even with all the overgrowth.
It’s enough to make Marjoram wonder how much time and effort had gone into everything. And how much time it had taken for it to be rent asunder.
Up ahead, just visible through the trees. Marjoram could see more bones of this ancient place peeking out. Towers, broken and hollow, but still standing still peer across the water. Just clearing the tops of some of the most ancient trees.
Marjoram carefully stepped around the leg of a broken statue. Clearly a pony of some kind, torn from the body of the sculpture. In fighting, perhaps? Or decay?
He might never know, but he enjoyed the speculation all the while. Picking up the pace a little, mindful of his energy levels, he made his way deeper into the ruins and into the heart of the forest.
Where the bones of the old world were just as visible, but only if you knew where to look.
(LINE BREAK)
The first plaza he’d seen was the Plaza of the Moon. It was broad, and unlike the ruins around it, is seemingly untouched by time and the forest. Nothing dare grow over the obsidian. In daylight, like it was now it shone in the sunlight. Reflecting it, like the moon reflected the sunlight at night.
There’s a metal sculpture at the center of the plaza. Simple looking to the outside observer. A silver, crescent moon rises from a block of obsidian. Carved with thousands of pinpointed stars. Neither the metal, nor the stone, has tarnished over the years. Just like the rest of the plaza, it is untouched by time.
But not by the elements. It is humid and chill, and frost is visible along the metal of the crescent moon. Even though the sun shines brightly on this square, it does not matter.
Marjoram knows enough magic to know that the square is not what it appears to be. At night, when the moon is out, the moonlight changes the plaza. Galaxies, nebulae, stars light up the obsidian.
It hurts him to think that this was a wonder of the ancient world, a marvel of enchanting that has withstood the test of time far more than this marvelous city. And how so few ponies knew, and consequently know, of its existence.
Spike would enjoy seeing it at night, Marjoram decides. And so would he, if he could manage it. If it weren’t so dangerous...Perhaps he should talk it over with Celestia and Luna, before deciding upon any trip out here overnight.
They might have spells that could help him protect everyone.
Marjoram watches this empty plaza for several more minutes, watching the heavy mists swirl around the base of the statue. Wondering how ponies could have missed something so beautiful. It was significantly smaller than the Plaza of the Sun, he knows, but it was still just as magnificent.
When he turns away from it, he can’t help but feel a pang of sorrow for Luna. If she felt this unloved...well, maybe she had reason enough to do what she did.
The Plaza of the Sun, less than two kilometers away from the Plaza of the Moon.
Marjoram stares at the ruins of it, sunken and buckled. It’s stone of choice is marble, and even now, sections of it gleam under the noon-day sun. It would have been large, able to hold thousands of ponies at a time, even with the massive sundial at its center.
The sundial is broken. The dial uprooted and twisted, blasted apart by fierce magics that tore apart marble slabs that weighed hundreds of tons like a child throws toys. Gold, likely the mechanism that casted the shadows, is torn asunder. Melted at such a high temperature that it’s not anymore, the slag running through the ruined cracks of the broken marble.
Bones lay there, too. Broken and crumpled. Innumerable. Speaking volumes of what happened here, setting a tableau that clearly spelled out death.
There were survivors.
But none returned. Not after what happened that night.
Not even Celestia had had the courage to face the ruins of her mistakes.
Marjoram couldn’t really blame her. Not when the mistakes had led to this amount of destruction.
From here, he could just about see Canterlot jutting from the mountainside. He could imagine the feeling of the city’s cobbles under his hooves, the mist of the waterfalls caressing his face, could see the majesty of it. Could picture it all, the good and the bad.
Canterlot had stood for just over a thousand years now. Built shortly after this city fell, originally meant as just a stopgap for fleeing ponies to find shelter and clean water, the city had started almost by accident. Even as Celestia tried to turn it into something worthy of the capital they’d lost…
Had the ponies that lived here thought themselves untouchable? Thought their city would last forever?
Marjoram couldn’t know, it was likely no one did. But he could stand here and see the remnants of what happened when a god went mad, and it made him wonder.
Canterlot would fall down the mountain if it was subjected to forces like what had happened here. There would be no ruins, nothing recognizable at any rate. Just fear and pain and death.
Would the ruins of Canterlot become like this place? Unearthly? Dangerous? All but forgotten?
Marjoram didn’t know, and if he were being honest, it was the not knowing that frightened him so much.
Still, he scattered some flowers long the edge of the plaza, muttered a prayer for the dead, and moved on.
(LINE BREAK)
The castle that Twilight knew was...well, it was outside the ruins of the blasted city proper. The magnitude of Luna’s rage and sorrow had made that a moot point. Ruining the Plaza of the Sun with hardly a thought before Nightmare Moon gathered strength and went after Celestia properly.
Approaching from the direction he was, Marjoram didn’t see the magnificent grand entrance that was meant to awe and protect. He saw the public face of the castle. The one meant to welcome the citizens of the city inside.
The walls were broken, most of the ceiling was down. The towers still stood, much like the towers in the forest proper. Making the most of what was left of the silhouette of the place, they were barely holding on. The roof rotting and decaying, bricks having fallen away.
As much as Marjoram might like to explore the towers, he knew better than to test fate more than he already was.
The palace was safer than most of the forest. Lingering magic, he guessed, from when Harmony reigned. It might explain why the forest hadn’t claimed the castle like it had claimed the other ruins of the city.
It was still ruined though, so Marjoram was sure to be careful. Still listening for sounds of creatures that might have moved in. There hadn’t been anything yet, but that didn’t mean that would always be the case.
It seemed safe enough for now, so Marjoram diligently went through the passages he’d been through almost a dozen times by now, making his way through the twisting labyrinth of corridors and rooms to make his way to a small, private study that was saved almost all the ruins downstairs.
The library below was a ruin. One he wanted to go through and rescue the books, but he needed to speak to Celestia and Luna about it first. Make sure it was safe to do so before deciding upon anything.
He’d scanned this study, and aside from the typical enchantments in the room, it was safe.
Two windows were in this room. One a bluish purple depicting the stars and moon, and one pink that displayed the sun.
There was a journal on a lectern, or at least he thought it was a journal. It wasn’t enchanted, as near as he could tell, but it was Celestia and Luna’s and he didn’t want to open it without permission.
He sank onto a cushion he’d brought here ages ago with a sigh. Feeling the fear and anxiety slipping away now he was in this safe space. He’d warded the doors and windows, brought candles and matches.
Today, since he planned to be here for so long, he’d even brought lunch. Triple wrapped and enchanted not to smell. It had worked, no predators had followed him.
On the way back to Ponyville, he’d go through the front entrance of the castle. Follow that path to the outskirts. It would spit him out of the forest somewhere near Fluttershy’s cottage, and he could make his way home from there.
It wasn’t often he took the ‘scenic’ route to the castle, by far preferring the safety and consistency of the path that ignored the ruins of the Forgotten City all together.
But somepony needed to remember. Somepony who hadn’t been there, who hadn’t been effected. Someone who had seen the ruins for themselves and hadn’t just read about it in dusty old books.
Marjoram felt...possessive, protective, over these ruins somehow.
The others might be tempted to clean them up. Twilight would certainly want to fix up the library, at least. And not just rescue the books inside. She might try to use her magic to undo some of the damage, which could be disastrous depending on what she tried. She could take what was left down by accident.
Rarity might want to restore some of the tapestries, or take them down and bring them home so she could be inspired for her next fashion line.
Rainbow and Applejack would want to explore. Dare each other into doing stupid things. Marjoram still wasn’t sure they’d make it into the city proper, much less find their way out and back to Ponyville. But they would disturb the quiet, and he didn’t want that.
Pinkie was hard to predict, but with her constant confetti cannons she’d have an impact on what was left to. Disturb the ruins somehow with unholy splotches of colour that barely belonged in Ponyville, much less where ponies had died when their gods fought above them.
Fluttershy...Fluttershy was different. Too spooked and scared to see the majesty of what was left, of what had been. She would see the bones and panic, drawing undo attention to herself and whoever was with them.
She could enjoy seeing the bits and pieces of the forest and ruins that told stories of animals. Of stone fences, and rotting stables. Seeing bits of fur and claw marks on trees.
She might be excited, but her fear and anxiety would be too dangerous to bring here. The castle was safe enough, but the ruins beyond it were not. Not the gorge, not the plazas, not the hollow towers. None of it. She wouldn’t feel safe, and she’d panic, and that would put them all in danger.
“Maybe I should rethink everypony going to see the Plaza of the Moon.” Marjoram sighed, pulling out his sketchbook to start sketching what he’d seen. The frost covered statue, the crumbled fountains, flagstones peeking out from under dirt and twisting grasses.
Who would he want to go with him, then? Spike for certain. But a chronically ill unicorn and a baby dragon were not exactly fierce predators to be reckoned with.
Marjoram sighed, looking down at the piece of paper. The ruined, twisted remnants of the Plaza of the Sun stared back. Somehow, his inconsistencies made the destruction all the more poignant.
“Maybe I should write to Celestia about this after all.” Maybe after all this time, they could erect some sort of memorial in honour of those that had died and in the panic.
They were harder to find outside of the Plaza, but he’d stumbled upon too many bones to think that the skeletons in the Plaza were the only ones.
So, Marjoram wrote.
Princess Celestia,
While my
You know
My studies
I’ve seen more to the Forgotten City than just the Castle of the Two sisters.
I know exploring the Everfree, that exploring these ruins, are dangerous. But every time I visit I see something new, find something new. And I have innumerable questions that I’ve never asked because I’ve wished to respect your privacy and not wanted to hurt you.
Somehow I’ll refrain from asking these questions, but I just wanted to tell you some of what I’ve seen. I’ve seen what’s left of the outer city, the ruined homes and wrecked squares where ponies would have come to meet and sell their wares.
I’ve seen the Great Plazas. And while I haven’t seen the Plaza of the Moon at night, I know enough about enchantments to know it must be beautiful. I’ve seen the bones that litter the Plaza of the Sun. I’ve seen much, much more of the city as well. Peering into what was once the great library, seeing over the waterfalls, peering into the gorge.
So, with your permission I’d like to make a memorial of some kind. I drop flowers near the Plaza of the sun whenever I know I’m going to go past it, but it never feels to be enough.
I know what happened is hard to speak about, that you and Luna both feel guilt and shame over what’s become of the great jewel. Maybe holding a memorial might make it easier for you to open up about it,or at least help make you both feel a little more at peace with what happened.
I...I would even help you both collect the bones of the fallen if you wish. We could bury them in Canterlot, or anywhere you’d like.
Depending on what you’d like to do, and what you both are comfortable wish, I’d like to hold a candlelight vigil at the Plaza of the moon as well. I know it wasn’t appreciated as well as it should have been in the past, and I’d like to think that if ponies could see it now, they would.
I’m going to be in Canterlot next week. We can speak about it then, if you want to. I just...didn’t want either of you to feel pressured into speaking about this, or doing things you weren’t comfortable with.
I’ll see you soon.
Marjoram.
First pass of the letter done, it didn’t take long to copy another out. This one far neater than the original.
Marjoram left the ink to dry, unpacking his lunch and moving so he could stare out the windows at the forest beyond. Heart full of tentative hope, and mind spinning with possibilities.
Maybe he could help them both get some closure from this.