//------------------------------// // Chapter 71 // Story: Rekindled Embers // by applezombi //------------------------------// Chapter 71 Book of the Saints 50:59-60 After everything, this is my last word to you, Saint Twilight said.  Stay steadfast in the faith, until your dying breath, and you are assured to be a boon of righteousness to all ponykind.  Your light will shine as a beacon to all around you, and you shall be the armor that holds back the darkness. Star Shine Building, 1113 AF Dying was a singularly unpleasant sensation. After years of euphemism and poetic overreaction, Rarity was displeased to realize she didn’t have any other words for it. Physically, she felt mostly fine.  There was the knowledge that she was doomed, of course, weighing on her head, as well as the other immediate threats to her continued life.  But there, in the back of her head, was the constant sensation of being… Drained. She could feel it, there.  Like a piece of her was missing, an emptiness.  And with every breath this void grew.  Every time she exhaled it felt like the air took a small piece of her…completeness with it.  She could try to tune it out, to forget it for a few seconds, but never entirely. And even in the midst of all this violence and chaos, she could still feel it. Dripping. Trickling away. The pit inside her growing larger, with every grain of sand removed, one at a time. Control was my strength and my weakness.  Nopony can hold all the puppet strings.  But I tried.  The more I controlled, the safer my ponies could be.  As the wind-born words cut through them, Heartwing continued to blast away with his horn while Terminus and Lofty flitted about, looking for an opening. I knew I couldn’t control everything.  Despite my efforts, I lost ponies.  Peridot.  Brightblade.  Puddle Jumper.  Emberglow herself fell to heresy.  So I sought another way.  Ponies are growing weak.  Inattentive.  Corrupt.  If only I could unite them.  Find harmony.  Lead them to be better.  Teach them correct principles and let them govern themselves.  BUT I WAS WRONG. Steadfast waved a hoof, and a wall of ice jutted from the ground, growing shards spiking up into the air in a line heading straight for them.  Emberglow shoved Rarity with a hoof, holding her shield in front of them with the other.  The shards broke against the artifact, showering them with glass-sharp bits of cold.  I was trying to manage the symptoms.  That’s all the Elements would have done, after all.  But why manage the symptoms when I can cure the disease?  And the disease is CHOICE.  FREEDOM.  “Would you just shut up?” Heartwing wailed, firing off a dozen tiny shards of golden light.  They arched and spun through the air like missiles.  But his attack pattered ineffectually against Steadfast’s icy armor with little flashes of light.  “The Villain Monologue is one of the most overused tropes in literature!” Please, Element of Loyalty.  Your help is no longer needed.  You and your silly idiosyncrasies are irrelevant.  Stay out of my way, and I will make your death quick.  There is no need for loyalty if ponies cannot choose to be disloyal. But Heartwing hadn’t been striking to injure.  While Steadfast was distracted, Terminus had looped around behind and above before descending into a dive like a hawk, spear in front. The steel blade impacted with a hard crack, splintering ice and digging into flesh.  Red spurted out of the wound, freezing almost the instant it hit the air.  Steadfast howled, his physical voice a banshee’s wail in the rushing wind. Lofty hadn’t been idle, either.  As Steadfast twisted to face the pegasus, one hoof was frantically casting something.  Rarity watched as he coiled his legs, pointing his spear upwards right as he finished his spell.  With a mighty leap, Lofty Tale launched himself skywards in a jump that took him much higher than it should have. Steadfast saw the new opponent in time to dodge the blade of Lofty’s spear, but not Lofty himself, who rammed his shoulder into Steadfast’s underside.  It knocked him off balance enough for Terminus to make another quick jab, shallower, but still drawing blood like the first. In my Equestria you will not need to fight, Element of Kindness.  You will not need to struggle, Element of Generosity.  Lay down your weapons and submit. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying,” Terminus growled.  He spun and flew, barely dodging Steadfast’s next few bolts of ice. Lofty prepared another leap, launching up to the distracted Steadfast again.  But Steadfast spun in midair, his baleful eyes sharp, and Lofty had no time to dodge. Steadfast swung both forehooves down in a powerful arc.  Rarity heard herself cry in dismay, her voice joining Emberglow and Topaz’ own dismayed wails.  There was nothing they could do as Lofty was unable to dodge; he was barely able to parry as Steadfast’s hooves slammed against the haft of the spear, shoving it, and Lofty himself, down towards the ground. Terminus swooped down to catch him, but Steadfast turned and bucked with his hindhooves.  It didn’t look like a solid hit to Rarity, but Terminus still went spinning through the air, barely managing to pull out of the chaotic spiral before slamming against a far wall. Meanwhile Lofty crumpled against the ground, crying out in pain.  Topaz rushed to his side.  Emberglow jerked, before shooting a worried look back at Rarity. “Go make sure he’s okay,” she whispered.  “There’s no point in guarding me anyways.  I’m…” Emberglow let out a low moan, and Rarity watched her swallow.  “N-no, I…” Emberglow would never move until Rarity did, she realized. The mare was like spun glass right now; one bad hit away from being shattered forever.  With a grunt of effort, Rarity pushed herself to her hooves.  Her legs felt like noodles, and the ever-present sense of emptiness, of draining, seemed to surge for a moment.  She ignored it.  “Well, then, if you won’t go to him, you’ll have to follow me.” “But…” Each step was a struggle.  The cold crept into her muscles, and she felt stiff and sore.  Still, she had to go, so Emberglow could help her friend. Above them, Terminus continued to swoop and dive, doing his best to draw Steadfast’s attention while Heartwing continued to fire magical blasts his way.  Golden light flashed through the air, cutting through the flurries of snow. Give in, unicorn.  Relax.  Slip into oblivion and let go.  You don’t need to fight any longer. Rarity grit her teeth and ignored the voice.  One hoof in front of the other.  Each step was a thousand years, and the floor was growing slick with ice.  Emberglow fluttered anxiously at her side, close enough so that Rarity could lean on her if she needed to. “There,” Rarity coughed.  “Please.” Emberglow pursed her lips, then turned to Lofty, her gauntlet flashing in a familiar pattern of healing runes.  “Hurry,” Topaz begged.  She had picked up Lofty’s spear.  Its tip shook as she pointed it up at the monstrosity up above them.  Your services will not be required in the new future, Element of Laughter.  What use is ephemeral joy when everypony will live unchanging lives of obedient constructive efficiency? “You shut up!” Topaz screamed back.  All of your efforts are futile.  Prolonging the inevitable and causing yourself more pain.  You fight, but I have not instructed you to fight.  You go against the order of things and must rest.  Do not worry, Elements of Harmony.  I will end you quickly.  It is the least I can do. I am grateful, you see.  You are misguided and wrongheaded.  But your intentions are pure.  And for that you deserve the mercy of a quick death, if you will submit to it. “Submit to my hoof up your plothole,” Heartwing snarled, firing a barrage of deadly yellow magic. Your crudeness and pejorative speaking is tiresome, Element of Loyalty.  I shall end you first. Rarity saw Emberglow’s whole body stiffen as she stepped to the side, shield raised protectively in front of Heartwing.  But the attack didn’t come at Heartwing himself. The deadly wind swirled like curling claws around all of them.  Topaz, Rarity, Lofty, and Emberglow all huddled in closer, making a protective circle around Heartwing.  Terminus stayed in motion as the wisps of frigid air lashed around them all. Wherever they touched, razor-sharp shards of ice jutted from the ground. “Terminus!” Emberglow howled, her voice straining above the wind.  He was exposed and vulnerable. Terminus was the weak link in their chain right now, Rarity realized with horror.  Steadfast had seen it too.  One of the tendrils of wind curled around Terminus, like a horrifying appendage, throwing him hard at the other five. Heartwing was preoccupied, caught in the act of firing another blast.  Terminus plowed into them like a bowling ball, and they went down like the pins.  Rarity grunted in pain. Her ribs ached from the impact.  Her hooves, muzzle, and ears ached from the cold.  Her horn ached from… …from… Rarity shook her head rapidly to clear it, pulling herself up as best as she could.  The elements were scattered.  Terminus was limp.  Emberglow struggled to her hooves, raising her shield as best she could. Then the tendril of icy wind slid across the ground between them, raising daggers of ice.  Rarity dodged with a yelp, and Topaz yanked Lofty back, still somewhat sluggish from his recent healing.  The ice missed Terminus entirely. Heartwing, though… He stood up, horn blazing, letting out a cry of panic.  Rarity stepped towards him, lunging.  The ice was coming. Too slow. A blade of frosty death fired up from the ground. Heartwing grunted.  It was a soft sound, air expelled from his lungs as his eyes went wide. A stalagmite of ice, nearly three hooves taller than Heartwing himself, impaled him through the barrel from underneath with enough force to lift his hind hooves off the ground a little.  It was narrow but deadly.  The top was now stained with Heartwing’s blood.  His hindhooves spasmed, and then went completely limp.  Heartwing let out a whimper of pain as he slid to the ground, the shard that had impaled him sliding deeper inside. “Heartwing!” Rarity wailed, reaching his side.  He looked up, his eyes glazed with pain. “He’s really…” Heartwing grunted. “…getting to the point, finally.” “Don’t you dare,” Rarity hissed, as Heartwing let out a chuckle that ended in a cough of blood.  “Don’t you even dare.  Emberglow!” It was all too much.  Too much!  Rarity’s tears fell down her cheeks as hopeless denial filled her mind. The sensation of draining, of leaking, seemed so much stronger right now. “I…” Emberglow turned to look, but a blast of frigid wind pushed her back.  She raised her shield, bracing.  “I can’t right now!” As Rarity’s last hope seemed to drain out of her, the hoarfrost grew on the hard ground around her, creeping up like little tendrils of white, deadly grass.  Rarity stared, hopeless.  Helpless. “You know,” Heartwing coughed, blood trickling from his lips.  “It occurs to me we could always just be treating this like the first Hearth’s Warming.” It was enough of a non-sequitur to jolt Rarity out of her malaise.  “Whatever are you talking about?” “Well, there’s imbalance between pony tribes, and Windigoes are going to freeze us all into ponysicles.  Must be time for a song.” Rarity looked up at the carnage about her.  Lofty was barely on his hooves, slamming the butt of his spear against the ice that was slowly creeping up toward Topaz.  Emberglow was frantically trying to brace her shield, pushing against the monster’s ongoing blast of cold wind.  Terminus was unconscious in a heap.  The hoarfrost was starting to collect on his hooves. “Heartwing, I hardly think…” “Rarity,” Heartwing rasped.  “I’m going to die.”  He looked at the length of ice impaled through his torso.  Even his blood was freezing as it oozed down the length of the deadly spike.  “You’re going to die.  I don’t know how long…”  He spat, blood spraying against the hard floor.  “I’ll be damned if I don’t go out singing.  Only I can’t stand those cheesy carols, so pick something else?” “That’s…” Rarity had to give a gallows laugh.  “That’s so you, Heartwing. Any requests?” “Something that reminds me of Fluttershy.” There was one song that came to mind.  But Rarity was dying.  She’d given up.  It seemed almost… hypocritical. But there was a spark of determination in Heartwing’s eyes.  Even if hope was dead, he still found something to hope for.  Even if it was for the comfort of a familiar song as he died.              “Each one of us has something special              That makes us different, that makes us rare.” “I remember that one,” Heartwing winced in pain.  “Thank you for bringing up one of my darkest moments.” “Perhaps your darkest moment.  But one of your greatest triumphs.”  She felt the need to lift him up.  There wasn’t much else.              “We have a light that shines within us              That we were always meant to share.” It was probably a trick of her imagination.  It couldn’t be possible that the frost was retreating from around them, was it?  Topaz met her eyes, desperate and hungry for hope.  Rarity nodded, and with a tensing of her muscles, Topaz tore her hooves free from the ice and rushed in for a quick embrace with Lofty.              “And when we come together              Combine the light that shines within              There is nothing we can’t do              There is no battle we can’t win.” Terminus stirred, his eyes clenching tight before flickering open, his ears perking and straining towards the sound of Rarity’s voice.               “When we come together              There’ll be a star to shine the way              It’s inside us every day.” Steadfast howled, his voice echoing with legion, and the frost pressed in on them.  Lofty began casting a shield spell, even as Emberglow pulled back towards them.  In the tenuous safety of Lofty’s shield, she began to make her own. “Is there a plan?” she croaked.  “That’s… that’s my last motes.” “I think… I think the plan is to be together at the end,” Terminus said.  “And we thank whatever gods are watching us for this brief reprieve.” Rarity silently agreed.  The Element was destroyed.  They’d failed.  But as she sung on, Heartwing joined his voice to hers.  It was frail and reedy, but she welcomed the harmony.              “Each one of us will sometimes falter              We may stumble, we may fall.” Her words barely made it out of her throat; it was tight, and her eyes were wet.  Emberglow wrapped her free hoof around Rarity, holding her tight as Rarity sang.  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell them all to run, to flee.  To leave her and Heartwing behind.  Not everypony had to die today.  They could regroup and try again.  Rally the others.  Find other Knights.  Other allies.  Maybe even find out what happened to Princess Sunset, and gather at her side. But Heartwing picked up the song, where she could no longer.              “But we still have a kind of magic              One that will see us through it all.” Rarity met all of their eyes, while the maelstrom of snow and ice and hatred battered at the failing shield that kept them safe.  She saw pain and fear, resignation and courage.  She saw love.  And she saw— A spark. Something tugged at Rarity’s neck.  It was a chain.  The thin gold chain that Colibri had given her, holding the pendant that held the last tear of the Tree of Harmony.  Wonderingly, she worked a hoof free from Emberglow’s embrace and pulled it out.  In the dim light, it shined enough to reflect in each of their eyes.  Rarity brought it close, watching as the white light dimmed, then turned lavender. And then she saw nothing. *   *   *   *   * All around was pure blackness. And then there were stars.  A dozen pinpricks of light, then a thousand, then a billion, springing to life about Rarity as she twisted and spun in the comforting skyscape.  The pain was gone, as was the sensation of draining.  Still, she disliked the feeling of floating, her hooves thrashing about in midair until they landed on something solid. It was rather disconcerting; she was standing on nothingness.  Rarity’s hooves were touching something she could stand on, something hard and firm, but she could see nothing beneath her.              You’re finally here… The voice was everywhere and nowhere, so silent it was almost inaudible, but in the dead silence of this place, it seemed to pound into Rarity’s head anyways.  It was both like and unlike the whispers of the Windigoes; it was thought rather than sound, but this voice was warm.  She yelped and spun, looking for the source.  There was nopony around.  “Where am I?” Rarity’s own voice was oppressively loud.  The stars about her seemed to blink and flicker. “You know where you are,” came another voice, a different voice, from behind her.  Rarity spun. There was a figure of light and shadows.  It looked much like a tantabus; form and substance, but no detail.  A glowing aura created the vague shape of a pony, and the voice was androgynous and nondescript. “Perhaps I need you to spell it out for me,” Rarity said, looking around.  She could guess, of course.  But she couldn’t believe. “You’re close to the Path, Rarity.  The Starlit Path.  But do you know why you’re here?” Rarity didn’t want to answer the question.  It was impossible.  “Who are you?” “You don’t recognize me?” The voice managed to sound hurt, but there was a hint of a tease.  Then it laughed.  As it did so, the voice became higher, a little more feminine.  “We’ve met three times now.”  It, or perhaps she, tilted her head to the side, in a gesture that reminded Rarity of Pinkie Pie when she was confused.  “Or two times.  Time is different here.  While we’re waiting.” “Waiting?” “For rebirth,” the figure said simply.  She waved a hoof at the stars.  “These are the resting souls of past ponies, Rarity.  Waiting for their stars to shine once more in Equestria.  Waiting for another chance at life, another chance to live, to love, to grow and hurt and cry and cheer.” “Am I dead?” Rarity’s heart ached.  Emberglow would be heartbroken.  The poor dear didn’t deserve this. But the figure shook her head.  “Not yet.  You are very close, though.  The Starlit Path looks out over the souls in the sky.  It twists and flows through them, coming close but not touching.  I am here to show you to the Path, so you can talk to her.” “Her?” “Each of the Elements has spoken to their predecessor, Rarity.  Who do you think?” This was what Rarity had wanted to avoid thinking about.  “It can’t be me.” “Why not?” “Because—” There were a billion reasons.  She wasn’t Twilight Sparkle.  She wasn’t as smart, or as good with magic.  She wasn’t as adept at friendship, or leadership.  She could never live up to what Princess Twilight had done, who she was.  And then there was the biggest problem.  “—because I’m dying.” “Starlight once told me that the length of time we have doesn’t matter; it is the choices we make with that time that are important,” the figure mused.  “That was before she couldn’t follow her own advice, of course.”  She shook her head.  “Because of you and your friends, she’s out there, among those beautiful lights.  Ready to be reborn again.  Thank you.  My other half, my friend, my sister, can be reborn.  I can find her again.” “…Trixie?” Rarity gaped at the figure. “And a dozen other ponies, a dozen other lives,” the figure said.  “All just as great and powerful. Here we come to rest, and we slough off the worries and cares of our lives.  We don’t remember much.  But I have been given glimpses, so I can guide you to her.  If you want.” “If I…” “You’re close, Rarity.  One thought and you’ll slip over the edge.  Your body fades, and your soul finds… rest.”  There was a finality to the last word, as well as a reverence that made Rarity both shudder with fear and long for the embrace of the darkness around her.  “Eventually, your light will find its way into another pony, another body, another life.  You will remember nothing, but the new you will be just as amazing and wonderful as you are.  Just as every one of ‘me’ has been great and powerful.  Even if she didn’t remember it.” “And if I don’t want that?” “Then you follow me. And you find Princess Twilight and embrace a different Path; something beyond death and rebirth.” It still didn’t exactly resolve the problem of her impending doom.  But it was a chance to do something more.  To turn things around.  With the Elements, maybe they stood a chance against the eternal winter.  Maybe they could fix things. “Take me to her.” “It’s not that simple.” The figure shook her head.  For a moment, Rarity thought she could see the starlight trailing about her head like a mane.  “I can guide you.  But you have to find her yourself.” “Trixie, darling.”  Calling her that didn’t sound quite right, but Rarity was beginning to feel impatient.  “While you’re being vague and cryptic, my friends are out there…” “Time doesn’t mean the same thing here that it does out there,” the figure said.  “I promise that if you choose to, you will return to the battle before much time has passed.” ”Then what do I have to do to move this along?” Rarity demanded. The figure laughed.  “I’m usually the impatient one, not you.  But very well, Rarity.  In order to find Twilight, you have to find the Path.” “The others didn’t have to find their own way, when they came here,” Rarity said.  Her mind drifted back to the rare conversations she’d had with Emberglow, Heartwing, Terminus, Lofty, and Topaz.  “Even Princess Twilight didn’t…” “Everypony reaches the Path a different way,” the figure interrupted.  “Sunset nearly died to get there.  Twilight was teleported there in a burst of Harmony magic.  Flurry was born with one hoof on the Path already.  And you…” “What are you implying?” Rarity’s heart thudded loudly in her chest.  “Trixie?  Or, whoever you are now?  What exactly are you saying about me?” But the figure didn’t answer her question. “How did you find yourself here, Rarity?” “I was… I am dying.  I’d given up, lost all hope.  But then Heartwing asked me to sing.”  Perhaps Heartwing had been doing more than just trying to fill his last moments with music.  Perhaps he’d been doing something more.  “We gathered together.  Even in hopelessness, I tried to bring us together.  And then I saw the spark.” “You bound them together, Rarity.  You gave them hope in the darkness.  You brought the spark, Rarity.” Rarity looked down at her hooves.  The solid invisible barrier below her was sparkling with light, forming a wandering path onwards into the stars.  She began to walk slowly, one hoof after another. “Every choice you made, every victory, every mistake, every lucky win and every setback, brought you to where you are now.”  It was true.  As she stepped, the images appeared like windows.  A hundred thousand snapshots into a life that was sometimes so unbelievable that even Rarity doubted they were true. She watched herself as she borrowed a scale from a sea serpent to sever her own tail as a gift. She watched as she sewed, frustrated and repressed, under the criticism of five well-meaning but ignorant friends. Weaving birds nests. Crafting hats at a festival. Opening first one boutique, then a second, then a third. Trudging through a desert on the run from a storm. Apologizing to her sister next to a fabulous but poorly thought-out derby cart. Waking up in a warm cave, comforting a hurting friend she had just met. Standing up to an angry and bitter dragon. Saying goodbye to a friend who barely remembered her. Learning to teleport for the very first time. Leading an army of unicorns up a dark mountain. … Singing a song with a dying friend. “Every choice brought you here.  Each one a building block.  Twilight Sparkle was a genius at magic, yes.  But one of her true strengths was her ability to learn and grow from her past.  She took the pieces of what she had been through and used them as the foundation for becoming something wonderful.” Rarity stopped looking at the moving images.  It wasn’t true.  It wasn’t her.  She wasn’t like Twilight Sparkle.  She was no Element of Magic, whatever this was all implying.  She was selfish.  Vain.  Sometimes a little greedy.  She was superficial and short-sighted.  She wasn’t a leader.  She began to gallop, running as hard as she could to outpace the sounds and sights around her. “You suspected, didn’t you?”  It was as if the figure was keeping up with her, regardless of how fast she ran.  “Heartwing did.  So did Cadance.  They didn’t want to push you, but they tried to give you space to grow and discover on your own.” “But Twilight’s successor should be somepony who can…” “Who can bring together the Elements?  Who can bring them hope in the darkest of times?” “But…” “Who do they look to?  What was it Heartwing said?  You’re untainted by the biases of this time.  You’re pure.  You remember the world as it should be, and not separated from it by centuries of distance.” “I’m not good enough,” Rarity wept.  “What if I let everypony down?” You sound just like me. It was a whisper on the wind, a rustling of Rarity’s fur and mane.  She snapped her head around, looking for the source.  “Rarity.” It was a voice she’d been dreaming about for months now.  Of all her friends, it was the voice she’d missed the most.  And here she was, panting for breath, out of sorts, missing her horn, dying and frozen and nearly out of hope.  Rarity sank to the shimmering floor and sobbed. “Thank you for helping her here, Trixie,” Twilight Sparkle said softly.  “You’ve waited long enough.  Go find Starlight, so the two of you can be reborn together this time.” “See you soon, Rarity,” Trixie said.  Rarity lifted her head enough to see the figure shimmer one last time, then burst into a thousand twinkling lights.  Then she looked up at Twilight. She was taller than Rarity remembered, with a mane that flowed like Celestia’s.  But her eyes held the same kind wisdom.  Her mouth was the same small smile. “Rarity.  You doubt yourself.  But there’s nothing wrong with that, right?  I understand self-doubt.”  The sardonic twist in Twilight’s voice was familiar too.  She reached out with a hoof, brushing it against Rarity’s mane.  It felt solid. “I’m sorry,” Rarity whimpered.  “I’m not who you want me to be.  I failed.”  She lifted a hoof to her severed horn.  “I’m dying, Twilight.” “Perhaps,” Twilight said, and there were tears in her eyes.  “You have persevered through so much, Rarity.  And I am so proud of you. I’m sure you have questions.  Please, ask me.” There was so much to ask.  The first thing that came to Rarity’s mind was ‘why me’?  But it felt like whining.  And perhaps for once in her life, Rarity felt like she had no energy for whining. “Why did you need somepony to guide me?  The other Elements were able to meet with their predecessors more easily.” “They were able to connect with an echo of the pony left behind in the Elements they touched.  Rarity, you were never able to touch the old Element of Magic.  The spark you created is forming the new Element of Magic as we speak, but I have never touched this one.” “So you’re not an echo?” “No.  This is the Starlit Path, Rarity.  This is where alicorns go when they move on.  Or when they are killed.”  Twilight’s expression was wistful.  “Luna and Celestia came here of their own free will.  They can still reach out and touch the world.  Those of us who are killed, though, are here more weakly.  It takes much more for myself or Flurry to affect the living world.” “How can I bear the Element of Magic, Twilight?  I’m going to die.” “Sometimes our greatness is defined by a lifetime of experiences,” Twilight gestured at the images around them.  “And that certainly qualifies for you, Rarity.  You have lived a life of greatness.  But sometimes the torch burns bright for only a few moments.  Tell me, Rarity, if you knew you only had a few moments to live, would you give up and die?  Or would you spend it doing something incredible?” “I…”  Rarity was struck silent.  She would do all she could, though she hardly thought singing a song counted as incredible.  “What is happening in the real world right now?” “You are dying.  Your friends are freezing to death, if the monster that is Steadfast Word doesn’t do anything else first.”  The words were kindly, but the context was blunt enough that Rarity let out another sob.  “But you’re Rarity, darling,” Twilight smirked as she used Rarity’s own affectation.  “The end of the world was barely an inconvenience for you.  You’ve rebuilt your life from nothing.  You’ve made new friends.  You found love.  This is only the beginning for you.” “What do I do next?” “Are you willing to go back?  Even believing that your life is over, are you willing to do whatever you can to heal the world?”  Twilight asked.  Rarity nodded quietly.  “Of course.  Walk with me, Rarity.” Twilight helped her to her hooves.  The touch of Twilight’s hoof on hers was warm and alive, and Rarity found some strength returning to her exhausted muscles.  They began to walk along the path, side by side.  Rarity couldn’t help but stare up at the taller Twilight. “You grew, after I disappeared,” Rarity noted.  Twilight nodded.  “But no regalia in the alicorn afterlife?  Darling, I’m disappointed.”  It was a pale attempt at gallows humor, but Twilight smiled. As they walked along the path, the windows into Rarity’s life began to become more and more rare.  They were reaching the end of Rarity’s memories.  She paused, watching an image of their desperate fight in the ruins of Old Canterlot.  Soon, the images were no more. “Perhaps the metaphor is heavy-hooved,” Twilight said.  “But this is where you write the future, Rarity.  But I have some gifts for you, first.  The first one is actually from Celestia.  Look out into eternity, Rarity.  Tell me what you see.” Rarity stood beside Twilight and stared into the star-lit blackness.  At first, there was nothing.  Her eyes began to grow blurry, and she glanced up at Twilight.  “I’m not quite sure…” “Look, Rarity,” Twilight said, her eyes distant and unfocused.  So alongside the dead alicorn, her dear friend, Rarity looked. It wasn’t much in the beginning.  A ghost of movement among the stars, a flicker of light and hope.  Then there were voices.  Shouts, screams of joy, battle-cries, whispered endearments and friendly encouragement.  When Rarity focused her attention on one of the stars, though, the other voices faded, while one set grew stronger. “You can hear them,” Twilight whispered. “What are they?” “The lights are souls.  Pony souls.  Waiting for rebirth.  But time is fluid here.  And like all fluids, sometimes streams fork, split, and delta.  Celestia used to come here and look out at all the souls.  She said it gave her hope for the future.  Even futures that may never come to pass, she said, contain all that you need to know about the spirit of ponykind.” “What does that mean?” “She could see the potential of each of these souls.  Not the paths they will take, but the paths they could have taken.  Mirror realities, futures that might be, could have been.  Futures that will never be.  But in that potential, Celestia could find ponies who had a spark of greatness in them.”  Twilight sounded wistful.  “I don’t know what potential futures Celestia saw for me; what untrod paths she saw that made her think I would be worth guiding to ascension.  But this is where she saw them.” “So these are things that will never be?” “I don’t know,” Twilight said simply.  “Communing with pure potential was always Celestia’s gift.  I don’t hear them like she did.  Or like you do.” “I…” “What do they have to say to you, Rarity?” She focused on one of the lights. A group of unicorns desperately poured magic into a giant generator, lighting a powerful artificial sun built into a dome far above their heads.  Outside, eternal night froze the land in its deadly embrace. Rarity jerked her head back.  She didn’t recognize the ponies, or the technology they were using. “What did I see?” “A future that could have been,” Twilight said patiently.  “You can focus on the light to learn more.” But Rarity found another light, bending her will to focus on the sounds from inside. Twilight Sparkle rose, dark and angry and majestic, her hooves poised to crush three trembling foals.  But even though they shook, the Cutie Mark Crusaders kept on their hooves, holding six glimmering gems between them. Rarity shifted her focus to another. Automated carts, belching smoke and noise, zoomed about a circular racetrack while a crowd of ponies in bleachers roared their approval.  A checkered flag waved, and the adoring stadium screamed their joy as the winning racer, Trixie the Great and Speedy, climbed out of her vehicle to take a bow. And another. An army of united ponies faced off against Sombra’s legion. Another. A unicorn mare in a blue jumpsuit with gold writing looked out over a desiccated wasteland.  But there was a light in her eyes, undimmed and unyielding. Another. Twilight Sparkle standing proud on the parapet of Canterlot Castle, her horn sparking with energy as she holds back the bombardment of the Storm King’s airships. Another! Starlight Glimmer, pursued by a pony of shadows, throws herself and the Crystal Heart from the tallest tower of the Crystal Palace. She smiles as she is enveloped by the rainbow light of the Elements and spilling their glow across reality. Perhaps… Scootaloo, grown up and horribly scarred and emaciated, held her hooves on a dangerous looking lever.  With a look of triumph, she pulled it, filling the air with a caustic looking liquid. More. Pinkie Pie, wearing some sort of full-body suit, floated in space, eyes screwed up in concentration as she twisted a wrench on a humongous mechanical contraption. More… A creature that looked part pony, part draconequus, a perfect blend of Fluttershy and Discord’s features, capered about the sky on bat-like wings, making gleeful glances back at her glowing cutie mark while Cozy Glow, of all ponies, looked on with horror. More… Five ponies, one of whom looked suspiciously like Sombra, and one Diamond Dog, levitate in the air while surrounding the shadowy royal tyrant himself.  Sombra howls in fury as they begin to glow with magic. More! Two ponies, eager and nervous, strapped via safety harnesses to chairs in the cockpit of some other sort of vast mechanical monstrosity, keeping their eyes on the flashing instruments around them as a disembodied voice counted down towards zero. MORE! Eyes wide with awe, an orange alicorn with a purple mane cavorts about the sky on brand new wings as the aurora shone in the night sky above her. It was addictive.  Rarity could have sat there for minutes or weeks.  She saw glimpses of a thousand lives.  A hundred thousand pony faces burned into her memory. Rarity didn’t think she’d ever forget. “This is what Celestia did?” Rarity gasped.  “She would come here and watch?” “When she could.  She still does,” Twilight said. “She’s giving us privacy, now.” The idea filled Rarity with warmth.  Certainly she would love to see Celestia again, but even in the midst of the uncertainty and mystery around her, she loved every moment she could get with Twilight.  “But why?” This time Twilight looked embarrassed.  “Because I asked her to.  Because when this happened to me, I was her student.  And...” She looked away, flushed.  “… I haven’t been there for you.  Not like I would have wanted to.  But I would like to think that in a way, you are my student.” “But you were there,” Rarity said.  And even as the words left her throat, she realized just how true they were.  “Every step of the way.  I tried to follow your example when I could.  Perhaps I wasn’t always paying attention.  But you did what you could to help me.”  There were plenty of examples.  Moments she had originally believed were totally innocuous.  Moments when the wind brought the scent of old parchment and book glue, or when she’d thought she’d heard the rustling of wings behind her.  Moments where she felt bolstered, protected, and supported.  “No, Rarity.  I failed you.  I failed the world.  If only I could have…” “Don’t even start, darling.”  Rarity was a little shocked by the reversal.  “You gave me all the tools to thrive.  I’m the one who failed.”  Once again she tapped her severed horn.  “Remember?” “I have one more gift for you, Rarity.” Twilight said.  “Something I hope will be another tool to help you survive.”  The princess paused, looking away.  Rarity could have sworn she saw a blush on Twilight’s face.  “I’m so very sorry, Rarity.  I have to confess something.  I thought this might happen; I suspected that whoever followed in my footsteps would find their way here, eventually.  So I put something… experimental in that spell I left behind in the book.  Something that bound itself to your thaumic system, to the pathways and rivers of magic in your very soul.  Something that, I hope, will make this next bit… more efficient.” “What do you mean, darling?”  It sounded familiar; the mysterious readings the doctor in the Empire had found. “Well, if I’m right, and everything works out just fine, you can ask the construct I left behind.  Simply inquire about ‘unethical medical experimentation on friends’.  The password is ‘mea culpa’.” “What?” “You’ll see,” Twilight flinched, with a chagrined smile.  “Now comes the hard part, Rarity.” She leaned down and touched the tip of her horn to the stump of Rarity’s own, and Rarity felt a painful jolt through every bone and nerve in her body.  “Are you ready?” “Ready?”  She wasn’t ready at all. “To be the legend you were always meant to be, Rarity.” “I…” She couldn’t finish the rest.  Something jerked her into the air, and there was a painful flash of light that blinded her.  Rarity clenched her eyes shut as her whole body burned, from her horn, all the way down her spine, and to her hooves.  She twisted and writhed, spinning about until the world was washed away in light.