The ancient, tarnished halls of the castle kept her awake every night. Moonlight peaks through the wild clouds and distant winds only to land on Twilight’s face. She rose from her bed and walked over to the window before letting out a long, tearless sigh. The moon was full and yet so empty, unlike when she had started with the five others she called friends. The city perched atop the mountainside had been overtaken by the wilds of Equestria; it was now consumed and covered in moss and vines embedded between the stoneworks, cracks and crevices adorning the long winding streets and the old crumbling walls.
Her attention was drawn away from the ruins of her rule and to the to the lone tall tower, which had once belonged to the Princess of the Night. Despite being engulfed like the rest of the castle, it still had a nostalgic feel, one that survived the fall of an empire. She was once more overcome by faded memories, but this time it was different. She could feel the cool wind against her face, like the cool night that was once protected by the Princess. She was given the slightest crumb of hope as the tower having been abandoned so long ago, she had forgotten that it even existed. Maybe there was something untouched inside its chambers.
The sounds of hurried hoofbeats brought Canterlot's desolate halls back to life as Twilight rushed across the empty keep, spurred by even the smallest grain of hope. Past shattered glass that once told the stories of the guardians and past tattered banners of the purple star of magic, she ran. Tears welling at the mere hope of something, anything to give her a vision of the past. Her heart ached, sore for the days of old, weakened by the years of decay.
Her wings unfurled for the first time in ages, the worn purple feathers outstretched and stiff, pushing her forward with an overdue heavy flap. She flew through the long grand halls, dust and rubble kicking up from her hurried flight. Her hooves touched the old floors once again as she arrived, standing before the threshold of the tower’s ascending stairs. She wanted to storm up into the chambers at its top and discover whatever it was hiding immediately. But she caught herself, unsure even if it did hold something, whether or not it was still readable.
Her hoof lifted for a step, and she hesitated. Did she really want to know what lay above? What if it held something, something painful and dark? Could she live with it for the rest of her days? Or what of a memory? The pain it would cause her, the pain it would conjure as it slipped away like everything else—could she go through it all again just for a moment of catharsis? Her lips drew another breath, her hoof trembling suspended and she took the first step forward, into the tower.
She began the ascent, those questions striking her over and over again. Assaulting her as she heads higher and higher. Could she live with what she would find? What about the pain it brought, the slipping thoughts, the blurred faces, and voiceless conversations? How long would these last? Even then, it could be blank and faded—or nothing could be awaiting her, nothing but heartache. Her breath quickened. Twilight could feel how close she was. How close that final step was. There it lay at the top of the stairs, the door waiting for her to push it open and retrieve her gift or curse.
The room gazed out broken windows onto the surrounding lands across Equestria, higher than any other part of the castle. Bookshelves lay filled with blank titled books all around the room, a single center pedestal awaiting her with a brown bound book, the purple star of her cutie mark on the front, drawing her close. Her heart beat in her ears as her eyes stayed locked. She lifts her hoof, bringing it to the cover to gently opening the solitary book.
Her heart stopped for just a moment, her breath being stolen out of her body and her eyes filling with new tears. Before her lay a single picture, faded and aged, but still there, with six special ponies crowded together in a tight hug—the beginning of a full and finished scrapbook. Just beneath the photo, were four heartfelt words she never thought she’d see again...
Once Upon A Time…
Twilight slept soundly that night, tightly clutching the scrapbook to her chest and wearing a warm smile. This night she dreamed for once, their missing faces and blurred memories no longer haunted her. The colors now had form. Their faces, smiles, and frowns were brought back to her. Their emotions and personalities joined her in a great reunion deep within her old crystal castle. They exclaimed in joy, shed tears of happiness, and held each other with a faded sense of nostalgia in the air.
Twilight cried and welcomed back all her friends, beginning to tell them of the stories she had, the ones about the fallen city of Canterlot, how she came to be so alone—but she was stopped. The five other ponies simply soothed her, telling her that it must have all been a nightmare. That they were all still together, that the magic of friendship was still stronger than ever.
She smiled and wiped the tears from her eyes, then nodded. They retreated deeper into the castle. After all, what was better than being together? What was better than these moments? Than these memories?
These memories of six friends.
Twilight awoke the next morning, eyes red yet full of a new life and no longer that of a hollowed scholar. There was a new life in the air, a gentle sense of magic flowing around her and throughout the castle. It had been so long since she had felt even the slightest touch of this much magic, she had forgotten its feel and energy. It was ecstatic.
She jumped out of bed with the book softly hovering next to her, held by her purple magic, which was now more vibrant than ever. She took each step with a spring reminiscent of her friends. She trotted down the same lonely halls she always did to come to her study, and she slowed, taking a moment to stand and take in the broken stained glass with a new meaning. She tried her best to piece together what remained of the glass and repair each pane, even if it was fruitless. She smiled at each one. Even in their diminished state, they held meaning again, and that was enough for her.
She had to force her gaze away from the stained glass windows and their soft rays of colored light. Pink, blue, yellow, white, orange, and finally purple. She stepped through the purple rays and into her study, a gentle sigh leaving her as she cleared off the table with care. She set down the scrapbook and opened it to the first page, the one with the four heartfelt words.
She grabs a new sheet of parchment, one of the few higher quality ones, and a new quill and inkwell with her magic, bringing them to place on her desk. Her gentle smile carries the air of the room as she prepares to write a new final letter.