The resonance of metallic clicks drifted across the pale antiquated tiles who tirelessly held those greater above them; while the winds tenderly whispered their soothing chorales — embracing the ears of those lucky enough to breathe their essence. Moonlight, infused with a hint of celestial memoirs, cascaded through the stained glass windows and cast mesmerizing glows. Each step Twilight took in Canterlot Tower, unveiled a harmony of fleeting illumination, as the interplay between moonlight and shadow flashed in the corners of her sapphire eyes with rhythmic duality. Her gaze remained steadfast, not peering at the walls who adorned the secrets of forgotten tales around her, as if they were a living time capsule. Twilight, aware of only the tranquil breath that escaped her silky lips, sauntered to the end of this great hall and turned left down a side corridor.
Fuchsia colored energy flowed through the runes of her horn like a network of bending rivers as Twilight opened the glass doors before her, stepping outside. The crisp nightly air hugged around her sturdy form while she approached the railing of the marble covered balcony; letting the gleaming strands of her hair lick the sides of her cheek. Her posture remained tall as she stared out into the endless night sky; allowing her sodden eyes to bounce between glimmering assortments of constellations.
What is there, to the shape of a stellar kismet that cannot give forth a fortune of serenity? Let the eventide sky whisper her qualms; too far above the regard of temporal ears, and disappear by the immortal pledge of effervescent dawn. Let the night lift her voice, only to echo along the desolate shimmering shrines of the divinity who came before. What is there, along the limitless sculptures of living earth that can give defiance to the weathering waves? The taints of an unrestrained sage root in her heart. Let them sleep; spend without a thought, the encumbrance of one who holds eternity in a single feather.
A faint breath left Twilight’s nostrils as she shook her head to no one in particular; the vague quiver of her lower lip and moistening of her irises perhaps the only indicator of her disposition. A burst of wind swirled through her mane, whipping it about her neck and covering one of her eyes. She took one last moment to bathe under the diamond rings that adorned the moon before turning around.
Twilight once more traversed through the regal sanctuary. The gentle cadence of her hooves reverberated with an icy chill across the tiled surface, before becoming a muffled thud as she walked across rugs composed of vermilion and golden silk. Tonight, the grandeur of Equestria's capitol felt that of a realm where even warmth dare not venture; for the soul of Equestria's flame flickers low — leaving behind an enigmatic aura of impassivity. As she ventured her way further along the corridor, Twilight's gaze was drawn upon the discovery of two large wooden doors that were left cracked open. Her head tilted as her ear twitched lightly, capturing the faint sound of hoofsteps that slipped through the crack. Curious, Twilight pushed her muzzle against one of the doors and flicked her head to the side to enter.
The air, heavy with the scent of aged parchment, quickly flooded her as she stepped into the room. It was all too familiar. Row upon row, an endless expanse of bookshelves lay before her; bowing under the weight of their dusted chronicles. Luminescent moonbeams poured through the central atrium, flooding every contour along the statue of her cutie mark; a symbol of her divine connection with this worn chamber. Torches, kindled by her magic centuries ago, sighed with a persistent glow. Her steps began to falter as her eyes scanned the labyrinthine expanse. Tables, uncharacteristically scattered, bore the remnants of a restless mind. Papers lay askew, books in disarray, and quills, silent witnesses to the endless introspection, sat in pain — their ink seemingly still fresh in such an aged place.
Welcome to you, your own living library, is this not a spectacle of an apparition? A fleeting stream of ink? Written in the juices of blood? Is it not reasonable to grieve to what should be a sojourn? The scripture waives such luxury. I B W A s e r m a i o T u t n h t t g These shelves? e y e s, a gateway to the soul? r n t Only of one who has cared seen too much. e Power of a Goddess. H o M e f o a r r a t t a l. Why do thousands of these volumes collect dust? While the first nine do not? You should be happy you have withstood from yourself. Just as you will in future hooves.
Twilight's head gave a little jolt as her mind flashed back to present time; prompting her heart to quicken slightly and her breathing to escalate briefly before subsiding back into a state of normalcy. Her eyes wearily glanced at the central table in the room. As she got closer, she saw a peculiar piece of paper; one that was a brilliant snow white compared to the others around it. Written upon its surface in fresh ink read:
'I am here for you. I always will be.
-Starlight Glimmer'
Twilight's eyes darted back and forth, searching for solace amidst the writing. A sorrowful subtle smile traced her lips; a fragile mask threatening to crumble —a torrent of emotions tore through her being. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision as her breath heaved in ragged gasps, a suffocating whine between sobs. The very air seemed to thicken, leaving her gasping for each precious breath amidst the deluge of tears that consumed her; drowning her in a sea of inconsolable anguish.
“Forgive me Starlight, for cursing you to the same fate as I.”
Twilight's head lowered as she embraced the paper tightly against her heart.
She sat there.
Crying.
Crying..
Crying...