//------------------------------// // Interlude: The Darkest Day of Your Life // Story: Rekindled Embers // by applezombi //------------------------------// Interlude: The Darkest Day of Your Life Cadance knew the moment it happened.  She felt an immense void, like the thrust of a spear through her heart. She was alone when it happened, in her chambers, surrounded by the crayon drawings and the shrines of the dead.  And then, with no warning, the sun and the moon were calling to her. Adrift. As if they had been cut from their mistress for the last thousand years. Remember, on the darkest day of your life… Cadance’s wail alerted the guards, who rushed in to find her screaming and panting.  She ignored their demands to know what was happening, instead lifting her head and firing off a teleportation spell.  She was rusty, and it exhausted her, but with a crack of power she appeared in a room she hadn’t set hoof in for centuries. She’d apologize to the guards later. Her old room, the one she’d shared with her beloved Shiny, was clean and free of dust.  Cadance knew the maids came in and cleaned on occasion.  She knew Flurry came here when she got lonely.  She knew even Topaz had snuck in here once, to steal a gem that was her destiny.  On the darkest day of your life… She’d thought about it, on the day Twilight died.  That had been a dark day.  Shining Armor had been there, withered and ancient but still her strength and her pillar.  He’d kept her from slipping too far. When Shining had died, she and Flurry had held each other up.  It didn’t hurt that he’d been wise enough to prepare her for it. There were other dark days, too.  The day her first grandchild passed.  The day the shield went up.  The day she learned how the Diarchy was making Knights.  And on and on. Darkest day… This time Cadance knew.  This was the day Celestia was speaking about in her cryptic note, left all those years ago in this very room. Cadance rushed over to the bed she’d shared with Shiny, the bed she hadn’t slept in for centuries.  It was held together by magic and memory.  She flipped up the duvet, clean and ready for her should she ever desire to return to these quarters, and dug under the bed for a small box.  Slipping it out, she pulled back the hinged metal lid to reveal an even smaller box inside, complete with a note on top. The small jewelry box had appeared in her room, years after Celestia and Luna had left to walk the Starlit Path.  It had appeared on her pillow, with a note bearing Celestia’s hornwriting.  She reached out to touch the paper, still miraculously intact after all these years, and read the words aloud.  Her voice cracked as she sobbed. “Remember, on the darkest day of your life, cry your tears into the ashes of eternity.  The cycle continues, the Starlit Path is eternal, the heart never forgets.” Cadance knew the Path was eternal.  But Flurry had always resisted their conversations about it.  She’d always been afraid of that part of her heritage.  And now she was there, herself. A cold claw of fear clenched around Cadance’s heart.  What if Flurry wasn’t connected to the Path, the way she was?  The way all alicorns were?  For a moment, she wanted to cast the tiny jewelry box aside, move her consciousness to the Path itself, to seek out her daughter.  But she resisted. With one shaking hoof, she pushed back the lid of the jewelry box.  Cadance had never opened the box, and had no idea what to expect.  Inside was a pile of fine gray ash, almost dust. “Cry my tears into the ash, Princess?” Cadance whispered.  “I’ll have no shortage of tears today.” But for a few moments she stared at the pile of gray dust in the gilded jewelry box, and was unable to cry.  She was dry, empty and hollow. “Oh, Shining,” she whispered.  “How do I go on?  How can I possibly…” She looked around the room.  At the dresser where he’d kept his clothes and his old uniform.  At the window where he’d liked to look out and watch the rare snowstorm.  At her vanity, where he’d try to sneak up while she was distracted putting on makeup in order to steal sneaky kisses.  At the bed, where they’d made love.  She breathed in, wondering if she could catch a hint of his scent, before scoffing at her own foolishness.  Of course there wouldn’t be a trace.  Not after a millennia.  Her laughter was a bitter thing, dry and hateful. “I’m such a fool, Shining.  And now I’m all that’s left.” You’re never too far away from the Path. “What good does that do me, Twilight?” Cadance shrieked into the empty room.  “My entire family is dead!” Twilight didn’t answer.  But Cadance felt a tug, the pull of the Path, threads of otherness clutching at her very soul.  She let herself slip out of the present and into the space between the now and the eternal. The room disappeared.  The walls, the carpets, the fresh clean air and the old shattered memories faded away, replaced by the star-filled path twisting ahead of her.  For a moment, the threads kept tugging, and Cadance resisted.  Nearly every part of her screamed to just let go, to slip into the Starlit Path and drift, like Celestia and Luna had done so many years ago.  But she steeled her will and stopped herself before she teetered over the edge. “Soon,” she whispered.  “But not yet.  Not yet.  There’s still more to do.” Cadance closed her eyes.  She didn’t need to see to know that the stars were there, or to know that the path would guide her hooves.  But she planted them hard upon the smooth, arcane surface.  “I’m here, Twilight.  What did you want to tell me?” “I’m so sorry, niece.”  It wasn’t Twilight’s voice, but Cadance hadn’t expected that.  She opened her eyes, knowing who would be standing in front of her. Celestia and Luna were just as tall and regal as they had ever been.  Cadance felt tiny in their presence, as she always had when they’d walked Equestria.  But maybe right now she wanted to be tiny.  She wanted to be wrapped in their hooves and wings, to feel warm and safe and loved, to pretend that everything hadn’t just gone so very wrong.  The warmth of her elders surrounded her, their phantom touch beating back against the cold in her chest. “What do I do?” she whispered.  After hours.  Or days.  The embrace around her tightened. “What do you want to do?” Luna asked.  “You said before you’re not ready to join us yet.” “It would be so easy, though.”  Cadance hated the longing in her voice.  The exhaustion. “Less than you think,” Luna said sardonically.  “If we had known what was coming…” No… The whisper made them all perk up.  It flowed between the stars, over and under and through the path, through the mares who stood on it.  It stirred their manes and warmed their souls. “Twilight?” Cadance called. The blame is not yours, Luna.  Nor yours, Celestia.  It is mine.  You trusted me, and I failed you. Cadance joined her voice to the others in a chorus of protest, but the wind blew again, silencing them all. All of us have worked to end this.  All of us have made sacrifices.  But none more than you, Cadance.  I called you here to reward your faith, your patience, your tears.  “Tell me she made it here, Twilight,” Cadance cried.  “At least tell me that much.” “You know that as an alicorn who died, rather than coming here as we did, her presence will be thin.  But feel for yourself.”  Celestia stepped away from Cadance, smiling gently despite the tears sparkling in her eyes. Cadance knew what she meant; she’d come here often enough to commune with Twilight, seeking wisdom and comfort.  Now instead of seeking her sister, she sought another, closer presence.  One she’d hoped to never need to seek this way. It was there.  She was there.  Cadance sobbed with both relief and sorrow.  She felt the echo of the anger of a thousand arguments, she smelled the aroma of bakery treats snuck into her room.  She felt the soft fur of a foal cuddled to her chest, the wetness of childhood tears wiped away by a hoof.  She heard her voice, at times kind, at times passionate, at times angry, but always loved. It was weak, but Twilight had been weaker, here, when she’d first died.  But Flurry was here.  She’d made it to the Path. Tears sprang from her eyes, and Cadance cried.  She wept and sobbed and wailed, surrounded by the silent presence of her family.  When she felt real light on her eyelids again, she was in Shining’s empty room, her tears splashing down into the dry ashes in the jewelry box.  The tears dripped down, flowing over the ash, collecting the dust as it rolled together in the center of the box.  They continued to stream off Cadance’s cheeks as she stared, wondering, at the pool collecting in the ash. The tears rolled and pooled, shimmering with a soft red glow.  It grew and grew, shaping into a warm red egg. A phoenix egg. “Philomena?” Cadance knew there were other phoenixes in the world.  But her heart knew; there was no other egg that looked like hers.  The egg cracked, splitting open with a dramatic burst and a flash of embers.  Feathered wings spread wide, and Philomena cawed in victory as she rose from the shell of her egg and ashes. For a moment, the phoenix hovered in the air, her wings beating gracefully as she looked down at the broken, crying princess before her.  Then, with a caw of urgency, she took wing, looking over her shoulder. “Philomena?”  Cadance cried.  “But… wait!  Where are you…?” Philomena flew just quickly enough that Cadance could barely keep up.  She dashed after the red streak, ignoring the startled exclamations of the guards as they chased after her.  Ahead, Philomena’s urgent cries pushed her to run as quickly as possible. The cycle continues. She passed by servants and courtiers, quickly enough to see their nervous and fearful expressions shift to surprise.  How could they possibly know already, when she-- It was still dark outside.  She must have been on the Path all night long, but the sun hadn’t risen.  Everypony knew something was wrong, they just didn’t know what.  Some part of Cadance knew she’d have to take care of that eventually, but she had a phoenix to follow.  The ponies would understand.  They would accept the basic truth with a calming word and a careful speech. She wasn’t sure she’d be ready to give speeches for a while. Cadance’s breath burned in her chest as she panted.  She was out of shape, and this desperate chase through the palace halls wasn’t helping.  But every time she started to slow, Philomena urged her on with a piercing cry from up ahead.  She forced her aching limbs to motion.  “You’re… leading me to… the infirmary?” Cadance panted.  Philomena squawked affirmatively, but didn’t slow. There were guards in front of the infirmary door; Flurry had ordered them there, ever since the failed assassination attempt on their lives.  They jerked straight and brandished their spears as soon as Philomena approached, but she merely hovered in the air, waiting. “Open the doors,” Cadance rasped.  “It’s fine, let her through.” “Y-yes, Empress,” the guard stammered, and fumbled his spear on his way to yank open the door.  “Do you require…” Cadance didn’t wait for him to finish, and neither did Philomena.  They both rushed through the open door, where Doctor Heartthrob and a nurse were standing over Sunset Shimmer’s bed, on the far end of the infirmary. “Excuse me, but…” the doctor began, glancing up.  He wore goggles over his eyes, some sort of magical sensor.  “…Empress?” “Leave the room, please,” she said, firmly but gently.  Heartthrob opened his mouth to object, but then shrank back. “Yes, Empress.  Right away.” “Close the door behind you.” She paid no more attention to the doctor or the nurse as they slipped out of the infirmary, closing the door with a gentle click.  Her attention was already on the still figure before her. Sunset Shimmer.  She barely remembered the mare from a scant few interactions in the Canterlot Palace before Sunset had fled, chasing her own destiny.  What Cadance remembered was not positive; Sunset had been ambitious, condescending, cruel. The mare on the bed somehow felt nothing like the one in Cadance’s memories.  She looked so small and helpless.  A thin hospital blanket draped over her body, hiding her wings.  An IV tube trailed under the blanket, where Cadance was sure it was strapped to Sunset’s hoof. Philomena landed gently on the pillow, right next to Sunset’s head.  She leaned down and let out a soft cry, almost a croon, and leaned down to gently stroke Sunset’s cheek with her beak. The cycle continues. “So what? Now I have to replace my daughter with some… stranger?” Cadance hissed.  “I’ll mentor her.  I have to.  But…” Not replace.  You have so much love, mother. Cadance’s breath froze in her chest as her daughter’s voice, eerie and distant through the film of the Starlit Path, flowed into her mind and made her shiver. So much love to stay wrapped up inside.  So much love to keep locked away.  The new generation will need your guidance, yes.  But they’ll need your love more. “I… I can’t…” The cycle continues.  The Starlit Path is eternal.  We’re relying on you.  “What if…”  She couldn’t force out the question.  Tears slipped down her cheeks to drip against the bedsheets. Take strength not just from us, but from your pupils.  We are all together.  We are all part of the Path.  A ray of sunshine split the sky, and Cadance raised a hoof to shield her eyes.  Sunrise.   But she hadn’t called to the sun.  “How is… I didn’t…” Philomena gave another cry, this one somehow brighter, happier.  Cadance glanced down, squinting from the light that spilled through the window.  Sunset Shimmer stirred, and, with a grimace, opened her eyes to the light.  Wide blue eyes darted about the room in confusion before focusing on Cadance. We believe in you.  We trust you.  Guide them well, Empress. Cadance blinked away her tears, forcing a smile as she looked down at the youngest alicorn.  “All hail Princess Sunset Shimmer.  May the sun never set on her reign.”