Every single step the stallion took was uncomfortable, but he paid his aching body no heed, busying himself in his slow ascent of the marble staircase with the hushed demeanour of a pony on a mission. He carried one of the most famous names in Equestria, but few ponies recognized him, and fewer still acknowledged him other than for the occasional jerk of their head.
Time had long ago run out for his lost soul, but for reasons he knew not, the reaper had stayed his scythe. Sometimes, when he was able to muster the strength, he would sit and wonder why he, and he alone, had been spared from the cruel fates that had befallen the rest of his family, leaving him lost, adrift and distraught.
Then, he would chastise himself for his ingratitude. He had enjoyed many years of happiness. And recent times had taken much from many. What right did he have to complain?
Perhaps there was some unresolved business he had left to complete, but he knew in his heart that his failing body that was often incapable of completing even the simplest tasks would be unable to finish whatever it was he had started. These days, it was all he could manage to get up from bed and out of the house.
The white marble seamlessly blended into a suitable sombre black as he crossed the threshold of the great doorway. The guards parted silently, each lowering their head in a nod of respect to the elderly stallion. Ordinarily, visitors were expected to reserve time for a visit, but this visitor was far from ordinary. As he passed, he gave them a thankful nod, his long, thinning grey mane shaking slightly at the jagged, awkward motion.
Though Princess Twilight's reign had been a mere footnote in Equestrian history in contrast to Princess Celestia and Luna's aeons of rule, her tomb was no less elaborate. In between the towering marble and obsidian skeletons of the Royal Sisters, a glistening amethyst monolith stood with twisting tendrils of carved wood reaching up its base, inlaid with an quotation from the final pages of the Journal of the Two Sisters that he knew well. He should. After all, he had chosen it.
Princess Twilight Sparkle
Beloved Daughter, Sister and Aunt.
Element of Magic and Proud Friend.
"My fallen star, how dark shall the skies seem without your glitter? How shall I continue without you, the light of my life? I feel it as surely as I know the sun rises and sets from dawn to dusk; without you, my heart shall die also."
Night Light felt a terrible sense of loss grip him as he approached the monolith. His eyes began to tremble, though he was unable to produce any tears. As always, the tomb was showered in bouquets of flowers from countless mourners and followers, many carrying tender notes of loss and grief, and a few hopes for a brighter future. There was a time he could have stayed there for hours, reading each touching tribute until his heart could no longer bear the pain and he left.
Not so much, in these final days of his life.
In his mouth, he carried a comparatively meagre gift of common daisies, a fresh cluster he had picked last night just for today, the anniversary of his daughter's death. Already they had begun to wilt, but their fragrance was as strong as ever. Stooping as low as his burning knees would allow, he deposited the bundle with a thin, toothless smile.
"Here you are, my darling. I remember how much you used to love these."
Wheezing as he pushed himself back to standing, he lowered his head in silent contemplation, offering up a quiet prayer to Providence, as he knew his daughter would have wanted. His mumbling lips fell silent, and he looked up.
His wife, lost to illness. Both children, taken from him by a pointless war. Hadn't he suffered enough? For the first time, the sight of the tomb filled him not with grief and sorrow, but a budding sense of anger. Save for a granddaughter he never saw, he was alone. He was tired. So tired of life, and all its pain. He longed to be returned to his wife, his son, his daughter.
"Oh, Twilight." His voice was thick. "I'm so lost. I don't know what to do. I... I miss you all so much. Please, just... let it all end."
The tomb did not respond, twinkling silently in the firelight that surrounded it. Turning around with a sigh, he had time to take but a single step before he froze in place and his jaw fell open.
The room had chilled, and before him stood a cloaked figure he didn't recognize - and couldn't have forgotten. Beneath it's rough, thick hood laid pure darkness, and when he glanced down, it's hooves were made of pure white bone. For a moment, he was frozen by fear - then he relaxed, and dared a small, sad smile.
With a strength he hadn't known in years, he bowed to the spectre, feeling a sudden, but not unwelcome chill pass through his body as it's thin, bony hoof rested against his chest. Somewhere in the background, he heard a wonderful laughter he hadn't known in years, the laughter of his loving wife.
The cloaked figure bowed in return, silent as the rapidly fading world around him. Stepping back, it gestured wordlessly towards a sudden blackness that had appeared in the middle of the room, swallowing the world around it. Night Light only nodded in response, paused to take one last loving look at his daughter's shrine, then strode into oblivion with the energy of many years passed.