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// Every New Beginning Comes From Some Other Beginning's End 
// Story: Liquid Gold 
// by Vic Fontaine 
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Celestia Australis Majesty, the sole ruler of Equestria, was tired. Tired, but happy. Happy, but worried. Worried, but resigned. Resigned, but hopeful. Hopeful, but afraid.

Afraid, but full of faith. And as the minutes ticked by, she found herself contemplating these feelings, these emotions, more and more.

From behind her throne, the delicate gong of a grandmare clock announced the time. Mid-afternoon. Less than half a day remained now. Just a few more meetings, a few more interactions with a few more ponies, and then…

“Your majesty.”

Celestia heard a kind but stern voice and turned to it. Her seneschal, Quill, required her attention.

“Apologies, but the afternoon court session is about to start.”

He kept his voice low and his expression plain, as he always did when speaking to her while she sat upon the throne.

Smiling, her endless eyes turned to Quill. “Indeed it is.”

“It is an important day tomorrow and there is still much to prepare, your Highness,” he said. Celestia watched him shift ever so slightly to his left as he spoke, blocking her from the view of the crowd that was quietly filing into the throne room proper. “You need your rest.”

Quill was as perceptive as ever in his observations. She was indeed tired, only in a manner far different from that which Quill referred to. That was one of many reasons why Celestia valued his service so highly. Of all of her loyal and hard working staff, Celestia always felt that she’d miss Quill the most if he were to leave.

Well, maybe not the most. There was one other she would always miss more. The one whom she had sent away over nine hundred years prior, in an act soaked in as much mercy as anger. When she finally did return, Celestia knew she would feel nothing but joy and relief. But would her companion – her blood sister – feel the same when they next met?

In just a few hours, she’d be one step, one year closer to finding out. And that made her happy, because she desperately needed to know that answer. But it also made her tired, because after tonight, fifty more steps would still be needed. Fifty more years just like this one, until the sentence she herself had imposed on the both of them would be met. The prospect of another fifty years of this burden made her despondent.

But she had to bear it. Not because she had no choice, though that was in large part true. She would because her sister needed her to. Her ponies needed her to.

As he always did, Quill managed the crowd with aplomb. And as she always did, Celestia heard the concerns, the worries, and even the complaints, of her ponies. But she smiled and questioned and debated and empathized through them all, gently laying each request, each idea, each missive atop her soul like so many delicate parchments to be addressed later.

And when the last question had been answered, and the last farewell given, the throne room’s mighty doors closed as the grand clock struck Five. The day was done, but the preparations for the next day were only just beginning. For tomorrow was the Nine Hundred and Fiftieth Summer Sun Celebration. A day of joy and reverence across Equestria.

For Celestia, it was the beginning of the end of the beginning.

With the petitioners and the citizenry gone, the castle sprung into gear preparing for the coming festival, and so Celestia took her leave to begin her own preparations.

First, a quiet walk among the castle’s many gardens. Celestia would linger in many spots, admiring the fruits of the gardeners’ work. Along the way she’d pick a few buds that spoke most to her and fashion a crown of flowers to replace her own, and she’d sit beneath the shade of a weeping willow and listen to the sounds of the birds and the fountains and the life of the planet all around her. And all the while she let her magic seep into the ground beneath her, delivering unto the earth the reports of her work, and beseeching its support.

Then, a flight up into the arms of Mount Canter itself. She rode the currents higher and higher still, wings pumping with the grace of swans and the strength of a hundred pegasi. Celestia’s flight took her to a rocky platform seemingly carved out of the jagged mountainside. From there the city spread out beneath her like a beautiful maze. Her precious ponies moved like ants through the streets, hustling and bustling and preparing for tomorrow’s grand celebration, completely unaware of what was to transpire that night… or what calamity could be heaped upon them should she fail.

The thought of the new dawn, and of the renewal it would bring, made Celestia happy. But it also made her worried, because she could not know with certainty how her ponies would get on without her if somehow, somewhere, she should fail in her task. But she had to take that risk. Not because she had no choice, though that was in large part true. She would because her sister needed her to. Her ponies needed her to.

So Celestia sat upon the rocky outcrop and opened her wings to the frigid wind. Her magic flowed through her wing joints, to the primary and secondary feathers and out to the very tips, suffusing every bit of muscle and sinew and feather with magic. And all the while she let the wind course through her outstretched wings, delivering unto the sky the reports of her work, and beseeching its support.

After some time, the wind ceased, leaving the air still and cold. Sensing the impending time, Celestia stood and walked to the furthest point of the ledge. Lighting her horn, she reached out to her namesake, the source of her power, her magic, her reason for existence. The glorious light of the Day waxed and waned under Celestia’s careful touch, beginning its slow descent into the twilight. The thought that this might be the last time she touched the Day like this made Celestia anxious. But it also made her happy, because she knew that, come what may, she would have done all she could for her ponies to the last.

A mighty flap of wings, a crunch of pebbles under hoof, and Mount Canter was left alone to watch the sunset before the dawn.

Celestia alighted on her personal balcony outside the castle with nary a clip-clop of hooves on polished stone. As she stepped inside, the clock in her nearby study chimed out Seven o’clock, bringing her that much closer to the end and to the beginning. She knew already what was to come next. Nine hundred and forty-nine times had she been in this very moment, about to slip free of the golden cage of her divinity. Yet her mind contemplated a nervousness; a kind of worry that even in such a state, she would be unable to commune with her ponies as she wished. But she also knew there was only one way for her to find out, and that was to press forward. To take the risk, bear the burden.

And so she did. A prayer to the heavens, whispered in a language long thought dead; a language known only to Celestia and her beloved sister. A burst of power, a glowing rune floats around her. A flick of the horn, a shimmering spell rains down on her head. And so it was done.

Her holy shield was no more. The divine armor that protected her from arrows and swords as much as her own senses was dissipated, exposing her to the world as though she were truly naked. For the rest of this, the final night before the dawn, Celestia would feel, would live… would bleed just like her precious ponies.

An indulgence, perhaps. But one Celestia felt she owed herself on the occasion of this annual celebration. A fleeting but full-throated taste of the world she was both a part of and apart from.

The Summer Sun Celebration was immensely important to her ponies. She had declared it a holiday yet they treated it as a holy day, but even in her infinite wisdom she dare not counsel them otherwise. For it was in moments like this that she relied upon them even more than they could possibly realize.

Celestia knew her trusted aides would spare no effort on her behalf, and they did not disappoint. A sumptuous meal was brought forth, each delectable course paired with the rarest wines from the castle’s private reserve. She relished in the full taste of it all; the robust smell of each morsel, the explosion of real flavor with each drink of wine. A recording of her favorite symphonies was provided, and only now did her ears truly hear the wondrous melodies her ponies could create.

Having tasted her ponies’ food and indulged in their drink, she turned to an altogether different kind of hunger. One which her ponies enjoyed the most out of all the world’s pleasures, yet she often struggled to fully grasp. A stallion of her personal guard was summoned and, after being sworn to secrecy, was instructed only to report to Celestia’s bedchamber.

Sunsets in Equestria are always beautiful. Celestia’s talent ensures it. But every year, for reasons unknown, the last sunset before the Summer Sun Celebration stands out as the most unique, the most beautiful of them all. That night, just before the sun slips fully below the horizon and yields to the dark of night, the sun gives off a final, glorious burst of prismatic light.

The clock at her bedside chimed Ten. Two hours left now.

Satisfied in every sense, Celestia retreated to the luxurious bathing room. Her most trusted attendants bathed her and preened her feathers, lathering her with the finest soaps, oils, and conditioners available. They perfumed her coat, braided her tail, and dressed her in the finest gown. Precious gold baubles were brought from the castle’s archives, and soon she was bedecked from horn to hoof. Still more attendants powdered her muzzle, blushed her cheeks, and framed her eternal eyes in brilliant shades of gold.

She looked every bit the goddess that she was, that she is… that she had faith she would continue to be.

The clock chimed Eleven.

She dismissed the attendants and sent them home with her thanks, preferring to complete the final steps alone. This was a matter of privacy as much as secrecy. Only her blessed sister had witnessed what was to come, had been there with her for the end and the beginning. In the past, Celestia would return the favor, bearing witness as her young sister traversed her own renewal on the longest of nights. That those days were long gone, that she once again had to do this alone, made Celestia sad. But it also made her happy because come the dawn, she would be one step closer to seeing her sister again.

Through the castle she went, to the lower levels, past the archives and the library, down passageways known only to her, until she arrived at a seemingly dead end. A flick of her horn, a wisp of magic, and the entire wall slid away with a muted groan. A pair of gold torchieres sprung to life before her, revealing a staircase that seemed to spiral into utter darkness. Her end and her new beginning were nearly at hoof.

The delicate jingle of her jewelry pierced the silence as she descended deeper and deeper into the heart of Mount Canter. More torchieres glowed at her approach, scattering the darkness before her polished and golden-shoed hooves. Emotions of all kinds roiled within her, growing in intensity with every step she took. That these raw feelings, no longer blunted by her divine providence, tore at her so much made Celestia nauseous. But they also made her happy because now she could once again feel the culmination of a pony’s emotional journey.

Finally, she reached the end of the stairs; the end of this journey, this life.

A circular room stood before her, of a design that evoked importance and intimacy. Chiseled walls and polished stone floors conveyed the care and skill with which the space had been carved out of the mountain. Golden sconces, each a work of art in its own right, cast their warm light throughout. And at the center of the room, on a small, circular dais, was her final destination. The platform was like a miniature castle unto itself, surrounded by a wide but empty stone moat, and connected to the rest of the room only by a simple bridge of stone. Three pedestals stood like sentries around the dais, and upon each one was a carved pony representing one of the three tribes, their eyes staring toward the center.

And carved into the center of the dais itself was a rune pattern of the sun… one that matched Celestia’s cutiemark in every detail.

Despite doing this for over nine hundred years, knowing what would happen once she stepped forward made Celestia fearful. But it also made her happy, because this end was also a beginning. It had to be, because her sister needed her. Her ponies needed her.

Celestia stood at the center of the rune – tall, proud, majestic. Clothed in silk, bejeweled like a bride awaiting her beloved, a glorious and beautiful avatar of life and light.

And, she prayed, a goddess found not to be wanting in her stewardship of the ponies she loved so dearly.

Her horn flared to life as she channeled her magic, drawing upon the vast reserves of power within her. As she did so she spoke a new prayer, one borne of as much hope as pride, as much joy as sadness.


Blood follow’d, but immortal; ichor pure,
Such as the blest avatar of heav’n
May bleed, nectareous; for the Goddess eats not
equinity’s food, nor slake as she with sable wine
Her thirst, thence bloodless and from death exempt.


She repeated once, twice, three times more, the magic surrounded her intensifying all the while. Celestia stood firm against the mounting pressure, her wings unfurled and her horn steady. She grit her teeth and bent the arcane storm to her will, until a dagger of pure, golden light lay before her.

She held it aloft, examining it closely, gently caressing the spells layered within it. It glowed and sizzled with power, sending little motes of magic bouncing off her. Its form was perfect. Its essence divine. Its purpose singular – to cleanse Celestia. To free her godly essence of this tired, finite frame, and prepare her for the next.

The end was so close now Celestia could almost taste it. But so too was a new beginning.

“Upon this altar I give myself,” Celestia spoke. “Oh glorious light of Day, your disciple calls out to you. Your avatar stands before you, ready to renew her vow. Upon this dais I spill my own divine blood; a testament to my work, a mark of my faith… a humble plea for a continuation of the task which you have given unto me, your most faithful student.”

“With this weapon, I bring this cycle to an end.” Celestia looked up, as if she could see through the mountain up to the heavens themselves. “And with this weapon, I bring forth a renewal not just for my own self, but for my precious sister – and the little ponies we both love.”

Celestia closed her eyes. “Be this the end or the beginning, I await your blessing once more.”

She swung her horn… and the dagger with it.

The reaction was instant. The divine power imbued in the blade raced through Celestia, cutting her magical circuits as if they were naught but gossamer strings. Raw, unchecked magic flooded her body, burning her physical essence from the inside out. She cried out in agony as her world became pain in every way her ponies could know – and some they could not.

Through burned lungs she cried out a single lamentation as her mind gripped the dagger's hilt and twisted with all the force she had left. An almost thunderous crack of energy echoed through the room as the dagger glowed like a star before dissipating in a shower of sparks, its task complete.

Then finally, after a few excruciating moments, she felt it – the scent of petrichor in her nose, the taste of bitter, spoiled ambrosia on her tongue.

She looked down as the first drops of her lifeblood fell to the floor. Drops became rivulets that became streams as the rune beneath her was slowly filled with shimmering gold.

Golden tears stained her muzzle, while still more spilled onto her chest, staining her pearly white coat on its way down her forelegs. And all the while the sound and fury of a magical storm raged around her, ripping her apart in body and soul.

Finally, her physical strength failed, and she collapsed onto the dais. The end was near, she knew. Her magic was but a flickering flame; her heartbeat a distant, fading thunderclap. But just before the encroaching blackness consumed her vision, she saw the river of gold spill over the edge of the dais. The rune instantly lit up beneath her, bathing her dying form in a warm, radiant glow. Above her the three pedestals seemed to come to life as three orbs of energy began to build around each of them.

As she raced toward the end, Celestia smiled through the last of her golden tears. Her sacrifice, her prayer, her greatest offering, would be complete once again. The Day would receive her and she would receive it, and both would be renewed once more. The light that shone over her little ponies would persist for another year, a brilliant bulwark against oblivion.

Scintillating beams of golden energy shot out of the pedestals, converging on Celestia from all directions. She made to cry out but her voice was no more. Then suddenly the pain ebbed. At the very edge of sanity, of awareness, she felt the faint faint whisper of her namesake calling to her, welcoming her into its care once more.

When that ephemeral voice reached her, Celestia smiled. The end was truly upon her, but so too was a new beginning. And with the coming of the dawn she would carry on, taking up her burden once more. She would again be a part of and apart from her ponies, until this night came again in another year hence. But until then she would shoulder the burden with joy. Not because she had no choice, though that was in large part true. She would because her sister needed her. Her ponies needed her.

And she needed them in turn.

Of that, Celestia thought as she closed her eyes one last time, she had no doubt.

Up in the castle, the grandmare clock behind the throne struck Twelve. A new day had begun.





The sun shone brilliantly in a clear blue sky on this, the most important day in Equestria. From the smallest village to the biggest cities, ponies gathered in backyards and public squares to watch the spectacle that could be seen in every corner of the nation.

In Canterlot, a great crowd had gathered inside the castle walls, spilling out into the streets besides. All eyes were trained on the royal balcony as the crowd awaited their beloved princess. Then, a trumpet blast.

A hush befell the crowd as movement was spotted above them. Onto the balcony strode Quill.

“Mares and gentlecolts, welcome to the Nine Hundred and Fiftieth Summer Sun Celebration. It is my honor to present to you her most royal highness Princess Celestia Australis Majesty!”

The trumpets blasted out a fanfare as the balcony doors swung open, and Celestia stepped into the light. She was resplendent; radiance given form. Her pure white coat glistened in the light, her mane and tail ablaze in color.

With a single flap of her majestic wings, she ascended into the air until she hovered high above the crowds. With a grand sweep of her horn she gracefully pulled the sun as high into the sky as she could. The crowd roared its approval, showering their princess, their steadfast guardian, with praise and adulation.

And through it all Celestia smiled. Today, her burden was light. Today, she was not tired.

Today… she was just happy.