A glimpse of falling yellow and a flowing banner of pink that whispered through the wind. The raindrop splashes of blood dripping and mixing with the earth. The look of surprise, and then quiet, tear-filled apologies, as life slipped away from eyes that only saw love. That’s the detail that snapped the hearts of Equestria’s heroes. The apology. Crumbled on the ground like a thrown away letter, the butter-yellow pony gasped, and looked up at her friends, and apologized.
“I-I’m…I’m sorry.”
Sorry. As if she had chosen to die, and only at the last moment realized that it might incidentally inconvenience the schedules of her friends. It was the same breathy apology that accompanied the pony when she was late to tea, when she double-booked plans, or when she forgot that Tuesday was the day Applejack was bringing her a pie. It was heart-wrenching and sweet, and always sincere. The knife twisted and ripped through the flesh of their souls, until it felt like their souls could be ripped no more. But the knife drove deeper, and pierced something in the echoing recesses of the soul which mold ponies out of primordial ooze and separate them with thought, and reason and feeling. That was how she died. Apologizing.
“Did you see who it was?” A few voices struggled to speak, shouting out vague instructions that they thought might be helpful following the assassination of the embodiment of Kindness. Apologizing. For what? Was she apologizing for dying? Or was she apologizing for not living enough? It was so absurd. Did she dare apologize for happening to exist in the same space that a bullet had chosen to drive itself into? It was silly, it was illogical.
“I’m going to kill them all.” Decided Twilight. In her mind, she drove a wedge, separating herself from the world, her friends, and all of her lessons of forgiveness. All she gave herself was the sight of three butterflies dancing in blood-splattered sunshine, and the last words Kindness ever whispered to the world.
“I’m sorry.”
Something warm and cozy wrapped around Twilight’s soul. Magic. The deepest depths of magical possibility cozied into Twilight’s mind. Destruction had always been there, waiting to no longer be tempered with love. It was funny. Petty, mortal things like friendship had bottled up all the potential that now coursed through Twilight. She had held back. She had been good, and so, she expected the world in return to be good. But it wasn’t. The last bit of good just left with world with an apology. But it was okay. Twilight would make them pay.