The sky darkened, the stars began to kindle, and Princess Luna took to the balcony of her bed chamber, surveying Canterlot, the surrounding countryside, the ocean-black horizon line.
There was a stillness in the sky. No wind, pulling and tossing at the princess’s starry blue mane. And a heavy quiet.
Princess Luna looked to the skies, past the stars and the inky veil. And the moon rose.
A new moon.
It was always troubling to her, raising a new moon. Empty. The moon was normally a light and a life for the night, just as the sun was for the day. And though the cycle could not, ought not, be broken, to raise a new moon seldom felt like raising the moon at all. It was like puncturing a hole in the sky. It was somehow cold, somehow fearful and uncertain.
Somehow dead.
Luna stared at the empty black sphere of the moon, blotting out the stars. She shivered.
I shall keep watch, as I always do. That is important tonight.
And night swept over all.
As the day closed, Star Swirl returned to the familiar warmth of thirty-three Blackwood Road. He cast aside his hat, he lit the lamps, and he sat down at his desk, eyes glazing. He simmered and he wondered, and never did his mind wander far from the riverside.
He did not know what to feel. Such a day. Should he feel happy, should he exalt and bask in the glow of the wonderful and mysterious bonfire in his chest? Should he be confused, should he drown in the anticipations and the worries and the uncertainties of daring to care strongly for anything at all? Or should he be afraid? Afraid of what is not known, of the portions of the world that lie unexplored and unmapped?
He sighed; a slow, shallow sound.
Things between Lily and I… Things might be advancing at a pace I did not expect.
And is that such a bad thing?
Star Swirl stood from his chair. He walked over to the stone fireplace, and with a flash from his horn the fire roared to life, filling the room with yellow and red. He began to pace the floor – and a new thought stopped him cold.
I don’t know what to do.
Star Swirl had trained himself as a thinker, first and foremost. Always, he examined the options, he deliberated, and he chose the best course. That, he had always thought, was the path to wisdom. But in the case of his feelings for Lily, every course Star Swirl could see before him either tied his stomach in knots, filled him up too full, or drained him too empty.
And there was only ever one pony that Star Swirl could turn to for advice. And that was Princess Luna.
Princess Luna was more than just a teacher to Star Swirl. She was a guide to him, perhaps the first pony he had ever built a long-lasting trust with. But the topic of mares had never exactly been one of great importance to Star Swirl’s early tutelage. But anyhow, he could not reach her now. Unless, of course…
Star Swirl’s eyes shifted to the Dragon’s Tongue, still burning green on his desk.
It’s clear that the Dragon’s Tongue sends messages to Canterlot Palace, he thought. There’s no doubt of that. So what harm would there be in sending a letter, a letter explicitly labeled for and addressed to Princess Luna? Surely, it would fall into her hooves sooner or later.
Unless Princess Celestia intercepts it.
Star Swirl shuddered and returned to the chair at his desk. The notion of Princess Celestia reading a letter intended for her sister, it filled him with something unexpected; exhaustion.
Foolish, foolish, he thought, staring into the pulsating flame of the Dragon’s Tongue. I’m being an utter fool. Why do I have this constant, nagging suspicion of Princess Celestia’s character? It’s childish, it’s absurd. What has she ever done to earn such harsh sentiments? Beyond taking my studies in an… unexpected direction, she’s done me no harm. I’m being stubborn, and arrogant, and…
But try as he might, Star Swirl could not shake the feeling that there was a secret tension between he and Princess Celestia. A glass wall.
Star Swirl tapped the desk with his hoof, thinking, hypnotized by the green light. Abruptly, he conjured up a roll of parchment in front of him. The quill and inkwell magically presented themselves at the top of the roll, eager to serve.
He studied the quill as he held it suspended in midair over the desk. You don’t have to adore her, as every pony else does, he thought. You simply must trust her enough not to snoop through your private letters. Is that so hard?
The quill dipped itself in the inkwell, rose into the air, and descended upon the parchment.
As Star Swirl wrote, a part of him wished that there was some pony else he could write to about Lily. A father. A pony who knew exactly what Star Swirl was feeling, exactly how to help him. But there were no fathers in his life. Only teachers. And that would have to suffice.
Time rushed on, the night grew denser around the cabin, and soon the eager quill set itself down on the desk, taking a well-earned rest.
Star Swirl magically held the parchment before him and reviewed his work.
Dear Princess Luna,
I apologize that I have not thought to write you during my stay in Whither’s Hollow. That was silly of me, I know; “Never forget the elegance of the obvious,” as you once told me.
I write to you on the subject of my investigations into the magic of Friendship. If I may say so, I believe that I have come very far in my studies. Princess Celestia told me before I left Canterlot Palace that through friendship, I might both make discoveries about others, and about myself. That, I think, has proven to be true.
There is one pony in particular whom I am getting along famously with. Her name is Lily, and unless I am mistaken, what lies between us may be strengthening into something beyond friendship. I do not mean to burden you with my dilemmas; but I find myself at a loss, and there is no pony I would trust more to assist me than you, Princess.
The Bicentennial Celebration of Whither’s Hollow is the day after tomorrow. It is a celebration that has been months in the making, and an event that is a great source of pride for the ponies of this town. (It seems strange, I know, that Whither’s Hollow should still be so occupied with its bicentennial in the wake of the Jackal incident. But it means a great deal to a great many ponies here.) I spent today with Lily, and before the day was out, I asked her if she would like to accompany me to the celebration, and she said yes. And tomorrow, I will be meeting Lily at her flower shop in the morning, and we shall spend the day together.
I am writing to you now, Princess, because I do not know how to go about this. I am always at ease when I am around her, but now, as I write, I’m afraid that I’m a bundle of nerves, and I hardly know why.
Lily leaves me in a puzzlement, Princess Luna. She
And there, Star Swirl had stopped writing.
The fire was beginning to die down. Star Swirl placed the letter back on the desk and rubbed his temples with his hooves.
Heavens above, what do I even mean to say? There are some things that are difficult to put into words, some questions that are difficult to ask.
Star Swirl sighed. His horn sparked, and around the cabin, all the lamps and candles softly extinguished themselves, leaving smoke and shadow in their wake. Only the fire and the Dragon’s Tongue survived.
It is late, Star Swirl thought, rising from the chair. My mind is fogged. I shall close my eyes for a time, I shall refresh my mind. And then, before the morning comes, I will send my letter to Princess Luna. It will probably require a second draft, anyhow.
Star Swirl wandered into the bedroom. He let his cloak fall to the floor and climbed into bed. And within moments, sleep overtook him.
The quiet settled in. And as the Shadows moved outside, free and reckless under the moonless sky, the fire’s glow weakened, dimming, ever dimming.
And when a massive black paw began quietly scraping the door of thirty-three Blackwood Road, the last of the solemn red coals had all but vanished.
Star Swirl dreamt.
In his dream, he stood at the edge of a forest. It was nighttime, and a wide full moon blazed above him, a watery star, taking up much of the sky; a fifth of the firmament at least. No, a quarter. No stars shone.
The forest which loomed before him was not Blackwood Forest, he could tell that instantly. This was a place of an entirely different character. A wilder place. The crooked branches and the tangled vines twisted every which way, maniacal and fearless. The treetops were cold and pale under the heavy beams of the titan moon, and beyond their trunks, the forest was ever so deep, ever so black and infinite.
Star Swirl stood there, looking into the depths of the forest. Somehow, he knew he had to go inside. He had lost something important; what was it? His hat, his cloak? Star Swirl could not tell. But whatever he had lost, he knew where to find it. He knew where his path led. Deep into the woods, into the labyrinth and the abyss.
He took a step back from the forest’s edge. This was not a forest he wanted to adventure in.
Suddenly, up above him – a face appeared in the moon. The face of a unicorn. Star Swirl watched as the features began to solidify, as the image grew clearer, and when its eyes came into focus, he recognized it. Princess Luna.
“Star Swirl,” she called from the sky.
Star Swirl called back, “Hello, Princess. Please tell me, why am I here? This place is strange to me…”
“Star Swirl, listen to me carefully. Nothing is real. You are asleep now. You are dreaming. This is a dream.”
“… A dream, Princess? But it is all so real. I can feel your moonlight on my face – ”
“Please, Star Swirl, there is no time – you must wake up. They are coming for you, and the moon is dark, I cannot save you. Understand, this is nothing but a dream.”
Something began to move in the forest, far away, noiseless. Coming closer. Fast.
Star Swirl felt a tremor steal over him. Something was not right. “Nothing but a dream,” he muttered.
The voice in the moon rose. “Star Swirl – wake up! There is no time! They are so close now, abandon this dream, wake up!”
“Nothing but a dream…”
The thing in the forest drew nearer. Burning black eyes, gazing out at him. Burning black eyes, all around him.
“Star Swirl!” cried the moon. “They are inside! Wake up!”
Nothing but a dream.
“WAKE UP.”
Star Swirl awoke.
He leapt from his bed, breathing fast, scrambling for balance. No light, only impenetrable night all around him.
His horn blazed to life, a brilliant, blinding white, filling the room, ripping all veils aside.
The room was empty. It was only he, his bed, and his dresser.
Star Swirl stood there, still as the grave, and listened.
There was no sound. No creak of the floorboards, no crackle of the fire.
Slowly, eyes wide, Star Swirl made his way to the open door of the bedroom. Each hoof step on the wooden floor was a hammer-fall in the perilous stillness, his breath, a roaring wind.
He looked out into the short, empty hallway that led to the front of the cabin. He walked the short distance of the hallway, saw the dead coals in the fireplace, saw the green candle-flame flicker; he turned the corner, he cast his light on the cabin wall –
The front door stood wide open.
An invisible icy dagger cut open Star Swirl’s brain, and without knowing what he was doing, his already blazing horn flashed, and all the candles and lamps in the cabin burst into life, even the weary coals of the fireplace bloomed with red hot life. Light, as much light as Star Swirl could manage.
He ran to the door, he peered out, his horn sending waves of piercing white out into the countryside. He swept over the world with his horn and his eyes, the grassy hills, the forest –
There. At the forest’s edge. Was that something moving? Something dark, disappearing into the dense woods. A trick of the eye, perhaps. Or perhaps…
Star Swirl retreated back inside and slammed the door.
The cabin was a beacon of light now, but Star Swirl’s heart would not be still. Slowly at first, and then with mounting intensity, he searched the cabin – the washroom, underneath the bed, the table, every cranny he could think of. But there was nothing to be found, and still Star Swirl could not stop a cold sweat from coating his fur.
He stood in the middle of the living room, unsure what to do next, unable to stop his eyes from roaming, roaming over the fireplace, the sofa, everything. He tried to breathe properly. His eyes, now beginning to remember their exhaustion, fell on his desk, tucked away by the wall.
And there, under the haunting glow of the Dragon’s Tongue, Star Swirl’s fear was realized.
The letter was gone.
Princess Luna flew down the staircases and hallways of Canterlot Palace, a hurricane, blasting past the paintings and the coats of arms on the walls. The palace was so hollow, with so many guards gone; only Luna and Celestia truly remained in the enormous, endless fortress.
Luna’s wings were swift, her veins, bloodless. There could be no stopping, no slowing down, she must fly faster, faster –
She arrived at the door of Celestia’s chamber.
Luna landed and burst through the door, calling out, “Sister! Wake up! Star Swirl is in grave – ”
But there were lights on already in the chamber, and there Celestia stood beside her bed, a figure of grim marble. Reading a note, magically suspended in the air.
Luna rushed forward. “Is that from – ”
“Read it.” Celestia shifted the note in front of Luna.
Luna read:
Princess Celestia:
Cabin was attacked by Jackals. Unsure if Whither’s Hollow is safe. Unsure of next course of action.
- Star Swirl
Celestia went quickly to her desk. “Did you see, Luna?” she asked. “What happened?”
“I saw the Jackals surround the cabin,” said Luna, flying to Celestia’s side. “Star Swirl was asleep, dreaming, and I awoke him. When the dream ended, he passed from my sight.”
Celestia began scratching a note with quill and ink:
Star Swirl, are you harmed? What happened?
Celestia’s horn sent the note up in flames, and it instantly vanished.
“The Jackals,” Celestia said, “what were they doing? Vicious as they are, they would not attack a unicorn who had bested one of their own in battle.”
“Nearly bested one of their own,” said Luna. “That fight could have very differently very easily, if Star Swirl had not been saved by the sun.”
“What do you mean?”
“They are foolish, primal creatures, the Jackals – but we both know that they have intelligence enough to understand the concept of revenge.”
Poof – a budding fire flashed over Celestia’s desk, and onto it fell another note.
The two princesses read:
I am unhurt. But something was stolen. An unfinished letter to Princess Luna.
Celestia and Luna froze. Then again, Celestia’s quill began to madly scribble on a new square of parchment:
What did you say in your letter?
More fire, and the letter went up in smoke.
Luna spoke quietly. “If he mentioned either of us in this stolen letter, Whither’s Hollow is not safe for him. He must leave…”
Celestia said nothing.
Luna leaned in closer to her. “Celestia,” she said. “Do you hear what I say?”
Fire flashed, a letter landed on the desk. They read.
I wrote of both you and your sister, as my mentors.
Celestia and Luna hardly dared breathe. Luna searched for words.
“Write him back,” she said, “telling him that Whither’s Hollow is no longer safe. Tell him why. And don’t you dare hesitate, sister. I will not let anything happen to Star Swirl. He mustn’t be hurt.”
Celestia looked up at her sister.
“No,” she said. “He mustn’t be.”
The quill went to work.
Star Swirl stood at the desk, unable to sit, unable to do anything but write, burn, wait, and read. So he waited, staring at the Dragon’s Tongue, everything around him a terrible, terrible dream –
The green fire flared; another piece of parchment flew into the air and landed on the desk. Star Swirl looked down at it, wiping the cold sweat from his brow with a shivering hoof.
You must leave Whither’s Hollow immediately. Now that the Jackals have learned that you know Luna and I, they will come after you. They will try to hurt my sister and I through you. They will kill you if they can, and if you let your guard down for an instant when the lights are out, they can and they will. You will return to Canterlot Palace immediately. See no pony, speak to no pony, leave as quickly as you can. The sun will be up shortly. A carriage will be waiting for you on the road when it rises. Do not leave the cabin until then.
Star Swirl read over the note twice, deciphering the text like ancient, nameless hieroglyphics, gleaning meaning from the tilting world around him.
At last he understood. His quill dipped itself in ink and started to write again.
I cannot leave. I cannot abandon Whither’s Hollow. I must stay, to help and to guard these ponies. They are my friends now.
He burned the letter. A response was swift; moments later, a new letter materialized, and Star Swirl read.
As of tonight, the Jackals want you, Star Swirl, not Whither’s Hollow. The moon will begin to wax again tomorrow night, so Luna will return to her post. The Royal Guard keeps vigil. The ponies of Whither’s Hollow are under no immediate threat. But you are. While you stay, you endanger them. You must meet the carriage at sunrise. For the sake of your friends.
Star Swirl burned inside. He turned from the desk to collect himself, but he could not. He recognized wisdom when it crossed his path. He knew that the princess was in the right.
But to leave. To leave the first real home he’d had in so very long.
There’s no choice, he thought. Damn it all, there’s no choice.
Star Swirl heard the sound of the flaring candle flame behind him. A new note. He did not want to turn around and read it, not at all. But he did so all the same.
Do not worry about packing your things. I will send Canterlot representatives to collect them in the upcoming days.
Star Swirl considered a response, but he could only stand there, marveling at the speed of change. Hours ago, life had been new and beautiful. Now it was cracking. Of all the things that Star Swirl thought and felt, not one of those things did he have the strength to put on paper. And so he stood there, leaning on the desk, eyes closed.
A new note flew from the green flame and fluttered down to the desk.
Star Swirl. Everything will be all right.
Unsure whether or not he believed it, Star Swirl took the quill into the grasp of his magic again and wrote his last message.
Very well. Thank you, Princess Celestia.
He burned it.
And he began the long wait for morning.
The last long hour passed, and light began to bleed over the horizon.
In his hat and cloak, Star Swirl left thirty-three Blackwood Road as soon as the first beams of morning hit his door. And then he was off, off in the direction of the town line.
He kept his cloak close – the sun had risen, but morning chill lingered in the air, and Star Swirl felt it in his bones, in his breath. He mounted the grassy hill that would lead him to the rest of Blackwood Road, and climbed to its crest.
And there, where the forgotten, overgrown dirt path met the well-kept road, stood Pan.
They both started at the sight of each other. “Star Swirl!” said Pan. “Good morning. You’re up awfully early, I didn’t expect you… to…”
Pan looked at Star Swirl, noticed his rigidity, the peculiar look in his eyes, and he paused. “Star,” Pan said, “are you all right? Is something wrong?”
Star Swirl swallowed. “You shouldn’t be here, Pan,” he said, slowly descending from the hill. “It’s only just past dawn. Go home and sleep a little while longer.”
“Star Swirl… you’re trembling. What’s the matter?”
They met each other on the grass. Star Swirl looked into Pan’s eyes, and told him as much truth as he could.
“I’m leaving, Pan.”
Pan did not seem to understand, not even to hear the words. He blinked. “You mean you’re… Star Swirl, what is it that you mean?”
“I must leave, Pan. I must leave Whither’s Hollow.”
Star Swirl watched, and before his eyes, Pan grasped the words. “Oh,” said Pan. “I didn’t know that… Why are… When are you coming back?”
Star Swirl could not stand it, the ache in his heart; he lowered his head and walked past Pan. “I’m sorry, Pan,” he said, voice breaking, “I have to leave. As long as I’m here, there’ll be danger for you all –”
“That’s not true!”
Star Swirl stopped and turned. There was a strength in Pan’s voice that Star Swirl had not heard before. Pan’s chest heaved, his eyes watered.
“No, that couldn’t be farther from the truth!” Pan cried. “Ever since you’ve gotten here, I’ve – Things have been better, and it’s because of you. You can’t leave, without a word, without a goodbye. Please, listen to me!”
Star Swirl was transfixed. Pan’s tears began to well up.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” said Pan, “but since you’ve arrived… things have been better. You’re one of the only ponies who’s ever bothered to be my friend. My cutie mark, Star – it’s a flute, and that’s all. It’s not a secret passion, like Emory’s cutie mark, and it’s not a call to adventure, like Lily’s. I play the flute. I make music. That’s what I have, that’s all I ever had. Not friends, seldom friends, seldom anyone to care about. When friends do come into my life… even just ponies who would let me walk them into town in the mornings… it’s something very important. Don’t leave, Star Swirl. I care for you. Please don’t leave…”
He stopped, the words catching in his throat. Pan looked at Star Swirl, trying to make him understand the rest with his eyes alone – that Star Swirl was more than anything Pan had ever hoped to have.
Through the haze of battling feelings, something new rose up in star Swirl; confusion. He peered at Pan, a small pony, eyes wide, utterly vulnerable.
Pan's eyes fell to the ground. “I'm sorry,” he said, hardly a whisper, “I've said too much, I've… Please, try to understand…”
And yes, Star Swirl could understand, he could read the writing etched in Pan’s heart, and it warmed him and wounded him all at once.
Star Swirl turned away from Pan, away from the questions he could not answer, and continued down the road. Over his shoulder, he called gently:
“Goodbye, Pan.”
He walked on, his gaze forward, unfaltering, his lip trembling. And before he’d gone a dozen steps, a weak voice behind him called out:
“Star Swirl. Will you come back?”
For one last time, Star Swirl stopped.
“I don’t know,” he said. And he knew that Pan had heard him.
And so Star Swirl went on his way, leaving a small brown earth pony to fear and cry and wonder in his wake.
Star Swirl quickly went through the town, before any ponies were up and about to see him. Soon he had left the bulk of the buildings behind him, and he found himself on a long dirt path leading nowhere in particular. He passed the sign that bore the legend, “Welcome to Whither’s Hollow; Population: 1,214,” and he knew that the town was behind him.
One day, Pan… Emory… Lily… I will come back to you. And I will set things right for us all. I’m sorry that I must leave you now. And I’m sorry, Lily, that I could not keep our appointment… But I will be back. And I will set everything right.
He found the silver carriage, towed by pegasi. He boarded. It bore him up into the icy winds of the endless sky, and he was gone.
Lily made certain to open The Blue Rose on time that morning.
As she flipped over the sign on the door to read “Open,” she could not help but hum a tune. How could she not, when life could prove so unexpected, and so extraordinary?
She watered the plants that needed watering, she tended the flowers that needed tending, and her melody welled up within her, filling the room.
Lily stood behind her counter and waited. Outside, she heard the town come to life, and she was happy.
And she did not have long to wait before the front door of the shop swung open; a visitor had come. The most impossible of all visitors; the last pony in the whole of creation who could have, should have been there. But all the same, the pony had come, just to pay a visit to Lily’s little shop.
Ding.