//------------------------------// // The Final Journey // Story: The G4-5 Boundary // by ShinigamiDad //------------------------------// I met a traveler from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!' Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away. — Percy Shelley “Twilight.” Twilight slowly opened her cloudy right eye and tried to focus on the blurry, brownish shape standing above her. She opened her mouth to speak, but coughed weakly instead. Reaper knelt beside the pale, wizened, violet mare and watched her ribs rise and fall for a moment: “Time to go, Princess.” Twilight slowly, carefully rolled off her side, and tucked her frail, trembling legs up underneath her. She swallowed hard as she tried to force herself up off the dusty, cracked floor. “H-help…” Reaper stood and wrapped a flickering band of pale, crimson magic around her shrunken ribs, lifting gently as he rose from the floor at her side. Twilight glared: “No fair.” Reaper grinned as he dissolved the magic band, and reached out a hoof to steady Twilight: “I know, but you three lost the ability some time ago to glean the last vestiges of this world’s magic. I figured I’d make use of the lingering crumbs one last time.” Twilight smiled and tottered unsteadily through the crumbling throne room, picking her way around slabs of shattered marble: “Well, it’s much appreciated. I really miss my magic…” She peered blearily through the gloom, brightened only by a pale sliver of watery moonlight and the dim glow of Reaper’s horn: “Where are we going? Why bother taking me anywhere, to be honest?” Reaper shoved aside a fallen column, and helped his shuffling companion down a sloping avenue toward distant a park, now covered in dead grass, rotting logs and crumbling vines. “I need all three of you in the same place to do this right.” Twilight squinted at the rubble and desiccated vegetation: “How did I end up back in what’s left of Canterlot? I haven’t been here in centuries! How long have I been here?” Reaper smiled sadly: “I’m not really surprised you don’t remember. I helped move you here from your catacombs some nine years ago. The old throne room ruins seemed cave-like enough, that with a bit of modification, moving your food stash, and tapping your last liquor reserves, I was able to settle you in without you even really being aware.” Twilight chuckled: “Speaking of—is there any booze left? I think it might help me with this last voyage.” Reaper reached into his cloak with a flickering band of magic and pulled out an ancient flask. He removed the stopper and held the neck to Twilight’s lips. She sipped noisily, and ran her tongue over her lips, sucking away the last drops. Reaper’s magic faltered, and the flask fell to the ground. Twilight glanced sadly at it: “I want to pick it up, but it doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?” “Not really, but I can get it if—” “No. Leave it.” Reaper nodded as he helped Twilight skirt a gaping chasm that split the boulevard: “Careful—it’s not much further now, but I had to plot the least-broken route I could find. Unfortunately, this added some distance…” Twilight gritted her teeth and fanned her wings as she stumbled forward, her unshod hooves striking the fractured pavement with a dull thud. “I-I still don’t understand. How did I survive these last, what, nine years, you said?” “I sensed the end was coming, and retrieved you over the course of several days, from the deep catacombs. You were, essentially, in a fugue state—almost catatonic—by then. I don’t think you’d eaten anything of note for weeks.” Twilight furrowed her wrinkled brow, and chewed her parched lower lip: “Why didn’t you just phase me and do it in one jump?” “You wouldn’t have survived; the attempt would have dissolved the bond between your flesh and essence. I had to phase under you, slowly re-solidify, and hoist you onto my back as I rose up through the ground.” “I had dreams…about moving…” “That would make sense.” “And of Luna.” “That makes sense, too. She helped care for you off and on over these last few years, feeding you, keeping you in a dream state.” Twilight stopped and raised an eyebrow: “Luna? I’m surprised she didn’t just let me die in my sleep!” Reaper shook his head and nudged the reluctant alicorn forward: “Luna made peace with your shared histories long ago…” Twilight let out a brief, harsh laugh as she stumbled on: “'Peace' my ass! She wanted me as dead as—what was Nightmare Moon’s expression?— 'The Bitch' did!” Reaper smiled grimly: “Which bitch? That name would have fit you well, too…” Twilight sighed heavily, and picked her way around an impromptu, unmarked cairn, set in the middle of the path: “After all these years, I finally understand Nightmare Moon better.” Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Like you understood Grey Thorn?” “Don’t remind me.” “That’s always been your weakness, Twilight—the need to control, to master, to organize, no matter the cost. You start out with the best of intentions, but…” Twilight stalled again as her eyes closed: “Take it too far. I know.” She looked back over her shoulder at the pile of rocks, its marker long since tumbled and faded: “I don’t think I can do this. Just drop me here next to this grave. Nopony’s ever going to know where or even that I died, anyway…” “That’s likely true, at least the specifics, but I believe there will be echoes of the three of you that carry on into this world’s next epoch.” Twilight swayed, then returned to a slow, stiff plod: “What ‘next epoch?’ What do you know?” “Just vague outlines of a new world, layered on the dust and ash and bones of this one.” “So, this isn’t the end of our world?” “Well, it is for you. And what’s to come, shaped by countless centuries before a new, enobled being arises, will erase all but the faintest traces—both good and bad.” Twilight shook her head, causing her long, ragged, brittle mane to cover her face: “So just let me drop here. It won’t matter, and I don’t want those two to be the last things I see!” Reaper took a deep breath: “It matters. In my way, I am this world’s last, eternal, steward. When all others fall to the side, in millennia past or in those to come, I endure. This world is all-but-drained of magic, and I want to ensure that at least some shadow of its mightiest beings persists.” Twilight coughed and wheezed as a sudden gust of wind stirred the dust: “Wh-why?” Reaper steered his charge off the path, down a shallow draw that had once been a decorative streambed: “Myths, legends, the ancient unknown. These are important to culture and civilization.” Twilight rolled her eyes as she wobbled across the uneven surface: “I really doubt our ‘legends’ are worth preserving. It all fell apart so badly…” “It was ugly, to be sure, but this is not my idea, alone. The Sisters agree that even a hint of the good that was once here—” “And the bad! Just let it all be! Let the ghosts rest, let the new world start with a clean slate! Maybe they won’t screw it up like…like…” Twilight choked back a sob and leaned wearily against a sagging limestone wall. “They were wrong to come back. I was wrong to push back so hard, so arrogantly. The damn unicorns were wrong to pick sides…” Reaper smiled grimly: “You mean the wrong side.” Twilight angrily dashed away a tear: “They were both the ‘wrong’ side!” “That’s not what you said then.” Twilight spat: “Of course that’s not what I said at the time! But we all were wrong! And wresting that power back…it…” “Took years to recover from. And nothing was ever truly the same again.” Twilight frowned, blinked and looked around the corner of the wall: “Hello, Luna.”