//------------------------------// // Prologue // Story: Still mortal, still alive // by Bluntie //------------------------------// Warm blood met cold marble. Twilight lay defeated, her fragile form sprawled upon the frigid marble floor. Iron chains, heavy and unyielding, bound her emaciated body while a deep wound seeped blood, staining the purity of the marble beneath her. Her once-vibrant eyes now held a vacant, lifeless echo of despair. Standing before her was the monarch, an imposing figure radiating authority, observing the broken figure below. In the silence, a faint, empty whisper escaped Twilight's lips. “Oh, hello,” she murmured, her voice a mere echo of its former strength. “You know, I imagined this moment differently. When I imagined this moment, you weren’t there.” A weak chuckle followed. “But here you are, even though I imagined this moment differently.” Her chuckle wavered as she added, “Although, I think you’re a hallucination...” Twilight stopped her sentence and paused briefly. Then, because she considered her remark impolite, she added, “I’m sorry. I did not mean to be so direct. But you see, it’s unlikely that you’re the real monarch. If you were, I’d be dead already. Please understand,” Twilight’s voice cracked, a trickle of blood escaping her lips, “the shadow of death looms over me.” As an illustration, she moved a leg and smeared some of the blood she lay in. Her voice was a mere breath. “It’s not unusual for people like me who are dying to have hallucinatory experiences.” “My dear Twilight, you're gravely mistaken; indeed, it is I,” the monarch's voice a blend of warmth and chilling resolve. She lowered a hoof to stroke Twilight’s cheek in a caring gesture to prove her point. The monarch’s glowing eyes looked into Twilight’s lifeless ones for a moment before she withdrew her hoof. “Why did it come to this?” The monarch paused as if weighing her following words carefully. "I too envisioned this moment differently… I actually hoped it would never come to this." The monarch continued talking, but Twilight didn’t understand the words. Struggling to focus, Twilight mustered enough strength to speak. “Sorry, can you repeat that? I couldn’t hear what you said,” Twilight smiled at the hallucination. She wanted to understand what she was saying. Who wouldn’t want to listen to her? Her voice was beautiful. "But if you stand before me, not as a wraith of my imaginings, then... it means my time has come, doesn't it?" her words trembled with a touch of sorrow, a whisper trailing into the quiet air. "I wish things had gone differently. You and I had to make a lot of decisions and some of them led us down the wrong path. I regret a lot of things... I regret having failed you,” she paused and considered her next words very carefully, before she added, "This is the end of one story, perhaps, but not the end of all. Your spirit, indomitable even now, speaks of legacies not yet fully realized," she said cryptically. Twilight's lips curved into a faint, resigned smile. "Legacies... a comforting notion when faced with the abyss. I understand I’ve let you down. The how eludes me." … The monarch looked silently at Twilight. A few emotions flitted through her eyes as if she were debating with herself. … "Twilight, what actually happens in a chess game when the pieces refuse to obey the player?" The monarch asked the question with a calmness that seemed almost eerie, a calmness that carried the weight of centuries of reign. She smiled gently. Behind her eyes trembled an ocean of unspoken words and hidden emotions, but her mask was otherwise perfect. To the untrained observer, she must have seemed relaxed. Twilight's laughter broke through the silence, a faint yet defiant sound. "That's a strange question." Her voice was weak, but her mind flashed in that moment of challenge. The chains that held her clinked softly, a sign of her indefatigable spirit. "If the pieces refuse to follow, then... then the player faces a conundrum, does he not? The player loses control of the game and cannot play anymore." She turned to the monarch, searching her eyes for an answer, for a sign of understanding or perhaps even remorse. The monarch held her gaze, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed as if the walls she had built around herself were beginning to crumble. "Twilight, you don't get it. It's not about what the player does when the pieces don't hear. It's about what the pieces do without the player's guidance. How they decide... how they proceed." ... ... Twilight’s gaze started to waver, her eyes losing focus as if struggling against a heavy mist settling over her mind with naive innocence. “It’s icy in here,” she said, her words tinged with childlike vulnerability. “I get sick when it’s cold,” she added, her voice quivering, a sob escaping her lips as if she were on the verge of tears. Her voice wavered as her distress spilled over. “I don’t want to get sick, but... It’s cold. And I’ll get sick...” Tears gathered under her eyes and dripped onto the floor. “I don’t want to get sick. I want to do something else. Like before.” She continued to cry. “You will endure, Twilight. You’re stronger than this.” Concern about Twilight’s change in behavior crept into her voice. “You will be fine. “ “Promise?” “I promise.” “I’m having a panic attack again, aren’t I?” “I believe so.” “That’s okay. Now that I know I have a panic attack, I also know... also that... that I’m venting. My thoughts aren’t a rational analysis of my current situation. My thoughts result from a... d-dis-prop-p-proportional defense reaction to stress.” Twilight recited as if she had memorized it. “It’s hard to think clearly when you’re dying… Can you tell me what it’s like to be dead? But of course, you wouldn’t know because you’re not dead...not dead.” Twilight giggled at her syllogism. She stared blankly at the ceiling for a while, opening her mouth a few times and then closing it again. “Oh, I’m having trouble speaking. I think I’m talking unclearly. Can you understand me?” “I understand what you’re saying. In fact, you just shouted.” The monarch tried to refocus her attention. “Now tell me, Twilight, what happens when a chess player can no longer play because the pieces have stopped listening to her?” The monarch came back to her question. … … “The game continues, even if the player can no longer play... The chess pieces must now make decisions for themselves... “Her last words were so quiet they were almost inaudible, each word a struggle, as if speaking through a veil of darkness that threatened to consume her. For a moment, silence hung heavy between them, a testament to the unspoken sorrow that enveloped both their hearts. ... ... With the last of her strength ebbing away, Twilight’s voice barely rose above a whisper: „Can I go to sleep now? I’m so tired, the shadows grow long and it’s like my head is stuffed with clouds.” “Yes, Twilight, you can go to sleep now.” “Thank you... I’m glad you were here.” In her last moment, she felt a moment of relief. Celestia stood there for a while, watching her before quietly leaving. A tear escaped her eye and fell silently onto the ground. 12 years before...