//------------------------------// // Interlude: ??? // Story: Rekindled Embers // by applezombi //------------------------------// The page is blank except for two sentences. There used to be more.  I had more.  Then I sold them.  For… For… I don’t remember. But those two sentences are always there. It’s my fault she’s missing. It’s my fault she’s dead. Other words float around.  Redemption.  Restitution.  Forgiveness.  But for a long time, only those two sentences were on the page. How long? Minutes, maybe.  Or longer?  I don’t know.  I can’t remember.  I sold that for… …something. But now there’s more words on the page.  I didn’t put them there.  Names.  She is Rarity.  I used to know that.  Now I know it again. I know my name, too.  It’s… I'm sure it was... I remember Sunburst.  The little foal isn’t Sunburst.  But he is?  I don’t know.   Not-Sunburst’s father tells me we’re going to see Rarity. I see the pain in his eyes of every pony he’s had to hurt.  Ponies shouldn’t kill ponies. We’re on a boat.  Sometimes I forget why.  I’m filling the page with more sentences, but sometimes they disappear.  Not those two, though. It’s my fault she’s missing. It’s my fault she’s dead. I talk to Sunburst every day.  Wait, no.  Not-Sunburst.  When he speaks, it stays on the page longer.  He doesn’t say much, he’s just a foal.  He’s so sweet and curious, though.  He thinks I’ve been hurt, and he wants to find out how, so he can fix it. How do I remember that? We’re going to see her.  Rarity.  She’s alive.  Not-Sunburst’s father says so.  I don’t know what I’ll do when I see her.  I found her place.  Stayed there for a few days.  Years?  I don’t know.  I kept something for her, but now it belongs to… Lofty Tale.  I remember that sometimes, before it leaves the page too.  Lofty Tale, his marefriend Topaz, and his son True.  Not-Sunburst. Remembering hurts.  Sometimes it’s better to have nothing on the page.  Sometimes I wish I could erase everything.  Even those two sentences. But I can.  I know I can.  Once I meet Rarity.  Once I know she’s safe, that sentence can go away.  It can be erased. That just leaves her. It’s my fault she’s dead.  But I can erase her sentence too.  Somepony was working on it.  There’s a book. It’s in my hoofwriting.  I don’t remember. But in the book there are spells.  Looking at the spells hurts.  I can’t remember why, but I can feel it.  It hurts me.  Shames me.  I used one of them to… …it broke me once. But if I give the spells  to them, they can undo things.  Maybe.  Erase the sentence.   Only, one of them is going to have to die if I do. I don’t care.  I’m tired.