Feather was met with the world.
Before him glowed a blue marble, the slightest of halos blanketing its surface. On it lived ponies, dragons, griffons, all the other civilizations which claimed certain lands. They said a lot of things, how they were great conquerors and dreamers, writing stories or soaring skies to perhaps touch heaven. The world was as if a spacecraft wandering to unknown places.
But maybe it was nothing in the grand scheme of things, for the universe’s encyclopedia boasted greater proportions. Its almost perfect moon floated eons away, and that was when an epiphany struck Feather Dew once more.
They were small. They were barely a footnote in whatever narrative this. Were they worth mentioning? There might be many others out there, untouched and unseen—not meant to be discovered and found.
A non-existent solar wind through a non-existent atmosphere, that’s what Feather felt. It was the cosmos’ way of reminding him perhaps he was closer to Equus than Equus was to bigger things. Things that really mattered.
Despite the only home Feather knew presented before him, loneliness crept in his soul. It was an emotion he could not place, as with many times, but this was unique. This was something special. It should have been the same, and it felt nearly the same too, but it was drastically different. Wrong. As if his brain recognized something that couldn’t be named.
Maybe it was because of the sight of his home. Or the moon far from that direction. Maybe it was the lack of stars. He remembered something.
Pictures from near-space—straddling the atmosphere, where the air turned hot and scant, taken by daredevil pegasi with protective equipment—showed nearly always the same thing: a slice of the planet colored blue, a lighter shaded halo arising to transition to blakish ethers.
And they truly were black. No stars could be spotted in them, not even one. The glow of the planet’s oceans and atmosphere made it so that stars were hidden. Feather floated way beyond even Equus’ exosphere, though that fact still rang true. There were no stars wrapped around him.
But something replaced those stars. Massive tendons of light anchored from the blue marble, extending into places far away. Perhaps other planets. Other galaxies. They varied in thickness, glowing faintly the purest of white, dimming and brightening at certain areas, as if blood flowing through arteries in a gargantuan cosmic body.
Feather’s gaze could not tear from them. They should have been unseen things. Invisible things only reserved for the minds of dreamers, philosophers, and curious foals. What he saw did not exist in the real world. They were the products of imagination.
But they didn’t falter when he blinked, not one bit. They still reached for places eons away. They were reliant not on his thoughts or doubts. They were real.
Feather knew what they were, but he didn’t speak. How could he? What could be said when presented with such a sight, confirming things guessed throughout the lives of ponies? From their faith?
He glanced at invisible stars. Feather did indeed find one word. He looked back at his home.
“Why?”
Was he truly seeing this? He knew what this was, yes, but he found no reason for it? An explanation, a cause? It was though it only was, and everything else was of little consequence. Some things cannot be explained, nor needed to be.
Feather understood that, but it was hard for him to... feel right about it? Why was that?
“Invisible things at times like to reveal themselves, not out of pity from blind ponies nor mercy to those who want to see them but cannot. They are like gods, showing themselves when the universe finds it fit. For whimsical reasons.”
Feather turned to face the voice.
The masked mare returned a gaze of sadness. Then it turned to solemn pride. Space-time itself seemed to stop.
“Bridges connect lands to other lands, peoples to other peoples. They are like what Twilight Sparkle mentioned to me once, neurons firing in our brains when we do so much as react viscerally. When we think; when we see. When we just are.”
Jade glanced at him as if he were only a little boy. “We are together. With worlds we don’t even see, beings we cannot touch. If we are like neurons making up a brain, then does that brain dream too? What does it see? Maybe that’s why we see things that aren’t there, because they truly are there.”
The sonata of space winds, the lonely universe’s gentle background noise—Feather felt it. Feather could feel everything.
He gazed at the world. It seemed different. “I remember... I remember seeing things from when I interfaced with... all of us.” He motioned his hoof across Equus like the omnipotent brush of the creator, seeing fit of the beauty imparted upon the canvas.
“What kinds of things?”
Feather stared deep into her expression. “I saw you.”
Jade smiled the teensiest bit, her sadness more apparent.
“I saw... I saw your city during the night time. I saw great boats and great lights across the lost city of the lake, the great expanse of a civilization I never thought I’d meet. I saw the heavens and how they were very much the same as they were during my time. I saw stallions searching a village. I saw... you.”
It was though she understood already; Jade must've, right? One ought not have their deepest secrets uncovered without so much as them knowing; Feather knew that she knew.
“I saw you cry. You were afraid, scared. I said that I was here. I was here.
“I saw how they took and brought you to the city center before going through that portal, how you struggled against your bonds and muzzled mouth.
“I saw how you were strapped down to a throne, becoming a queen of a kingdom you didn’t want. I saw how they took you up the pyramid and fastened you to that stone slab. They didn’t even take the cloth covering your mouth...
“I saw the priest take the blade. I heard him say words I couldn’t understand. Maybe a prayer. I remember feeling dizzy as he brought down the... blade, but... you kicked. You jumped. I didn’t see. I was too afraid.
“I only heard your screams. I must’ve heard your... you roll down the pyramid slope. I don’t... I don’t know what happened after that.”
The indiscernible serenade of the cosmos, the quiet of space was the only sound heard. The twinkle of stars were the only things to be seen. Jade looked back at him, and he looked back at her.
Peace. There was peace on her face, an acceptance of what was to come. What already had.
She closed her eye, tilting downwards her head, a hoof set on her mask. It seemed to last an eternity, that moment these two ponies paused. Planet Equus and many more worlds watched with a bated breath.
Jade gently removed her serpentine mask, letting it float by her side—rotating and inching slowly away. When Feather’s eyes met hers, he froze.
Scarred. It was the only way to describe it. Her left eye was scarred, skin and fur around it greyed like coal. The eye itself was a murky grey. A large gash crossed its span, where the cornea must’ve fused together in an attempt of futile self-preservation.
It was though Feather finally saw her soul—no hiding, no veils. When the priest shot downwards the blade, he didn’t hit her heart. In Jade’s attempt to escape, she accidentally made him stab her left eye.
The floating serpentine drifted from view, to forgotten places. Places which had no bridges.
She seemed disgusted, utterly ashamed of what she’s been through and what became of her. Jade was disfigured, a ghost scarred and broken, both in spirit and in appearance. Jade had that mask on because nopony would ever look at her straight in the eyes without so much as a moment of hesitation. To her, this was who she was.
An outcast. Jade was an outcast, as if being here wasn’t bad enough. Even if she could return to the world, her scarred appearance would leave its mark forevermore.
As Feather felt solar winds buffet his back, he wondered if the universe was trying to give him an answer. He did not know the question.
“I wanted to live,” she simply said, cowering. Jade tilted her head to hide scared eyes. “I merely wanted a chance.”
Feather stepped closer instinctively. “I know, of course you wanted to live. Who wouldn’t? You’re a fighter. I saw what you did. You were strong.”
Jade reeled back, eyes widening. She immediately glanced away, ears lowering and back slumped. She seemed defeated. “I don’t think it even matters anymore.”
He was more surprised than he’d expected. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter anymore? I’m here. Of course it matters.”
“I died,” Jade sharply replied. “I died and that is that.”
Feather put a hoof on his chest and stepped back. Jade instantly regretted her harsh words, receding back to her meek form. “I... I didn’t mean to sound that way.
“It’s just...”
When she did not finish, only waves of calming solar winds remained.
“I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore.”
Feather receded a hoof. “What’s worth what anymore-?”
“This. You being here. I... I do want to be saved, but what will I return to? What will I become if being like this isn’t bad enough already? I have no beauty left, I have... I have barely a soul...”
A great dismay, a horrifying consternation. A storm of anxiety pulsed through his back and his limbs. Jade was destroying herself. She saw herself as un-savable not only because of her circumstance, but because of what she was: a pony with no country, a soul without a body, a vagabond without a location nor a journey.
Feather took a step closer. Another step closer.
He took gentle steps until he stood right in front of her. Jade had placed a hoof over her face in a silent weep, the occasional sniffle breaking through. She looked just as he’d found her under the shroud of an ancient moon, in those outskirts. Forgotten.
“Look at me.”
Feather expected her not to so easily oblige, but he frowned as she dejectedly hung her head low. The idea that he seemed like a deity before a cowering mortal disturbed Feather, so he leaned down and cupped her cheek with a hoof. She flinched but didn’t move away. They stood frozen that moment.
“Look at me, Jade.”
Feather gently raised her up to his eye level. Their eyes met clearly, straightforward. There was no obfuscation, no fuss. Not even air blew between them.
“Have you heard yourself talk?” he asked rather bluntly but softly. “Have you ever heard your own voice, the way you describe things? I know a lot of ponies who would give up their soul for even an ounce of what you have.”
Feather closened to her face, then pointing to the world. “Why would it matter what they think? So what if you have a scar on your face, so what if you came from another time?”
Jade glanced and faltered from his expression. She still seemed to long for his gentle touch. “This isn’t just about what they think. This is also about me. Who am I inside? Why am I still here?”
Feather sadly smiled back. He blinked patiently. “You’re here because there’s this part of you that’s still alive.
“It’s only you who’s going to decide. It’s only you who’ll assign value to your existence. You can either stay here or move on and be with me. Be with new friends. Be with yourself. It doesn’t have to have a grandiose meaning. You can let go.”
Jade was struck with an epiphany she’s never heard in all her thousand years.
“We can still save you, Jade. You just need to want it one hundred percent, too. Even the slightest falter can bring us back to square one. At the end of the day, this isn’t about me; this isn’t about them. This is about you. You and you only are the master of your fate, the writer of your life.”
A memory resurfaced. It was a dream from long ago, having lingered in his soul, so deep it seemed almost unreal. “We may seem lonely, we may seem distant, but there are tangents which touch all things. I do not understand it completely, nor does anyone, but I know it’s true. You were lonely, Jade, but you never truly were. And you never have to be.
“We’re strangers from other timelines, yet we’re somehow bound to each other. It’s as if it transcends logic, transcends what’s normal and what’s possible. We’ve met before. We’ve crossed paths, two parallel lines that somehow touched and strayed apart for what seemed to be a lifetime before impossibly nearing one another again.”
Feather was no longer afraid. He didn’t care if she had that scar on her eye. Jade could have a thousand scars for all he cared; he would still stand his ground. She was his soulmate, and he was hers.
Despite being worlds apart, this was their fate. This was destiny.
“We’re stars that somehow got close. You have me, and I have you.”
She smiled. It was sad, but a sincere curl of her lips nonetheless. It was the face of finding that missing part of one’s soul one never knew they needed to be finally complete.
“You’re right.” Jade was breathless. “This was meant to be.” There was little hesitation in her voice, no backing down. “I was never meant for that world. It was a mistake. Nothing’s perfect, and I think it made a mistake. Somehow, I know it was a miscalculation. I was supposed to be with you from the very start.”
She stared into space from her side. “But I wonder what we will do now that you’re here. What’s next? What does fate have in store for us?”
He looked out to space as well, wondering the same thing. Feather remembered the words of that legend still somehow etched into his mind.
Legend has it that she was endowed with a curse... The only way to break the curse is for one to find her heart and complete it, both of them bound to join one another in the next life.
Find her heart... complete it...
Were these story-tellers intentional in the interplay of their words, the double-edged sword of context and meaning? Feather didn’t know how he missed it before.
He saw what happened to her, what happened to her eye.
He found her heart. Now he had to complete it.
He knew what to do.
For a second, Feather gazed deeply into the cosmos. They were heavenly and beautiful. He gazed at his home. It was lonely yet hopeful, a world in tranquil peace. He remembered how these things looked, boring those images deep in his soul.
Feather Dew gazed at Crystal Jade, placing a hoof yet again on her cheek and tracing it down her neck to her withers. He took his other hoof and wrapped her around in a loving embrace, tenderly planting his muzzle on her emerald mane.
He carefully caressed the area under her scarred eye, making sure he didn’t hurt her. Jade’s coat seemed too supple. Feather placed that same hoof on his own left eyelid, closing it for the last time.
Something. It came. Whatever it was called—the spiritual energy of the universe, the magical force spread through innumerable realms—Feather felt its presence. It told him this was what he had to do. It confirmed to him this was something that needed to be done.
The last thing Feather saw was the flash of a blinding light. He held on to Jade like they’d never get to meet again.