//------------------------------//
// Hurt 
// Story: Hurt 
// by Minalkra 
//------------------------------//

The frigid wind blew across the wastes, tossing a few errant flakes of snow into the air.  It whistled mournfully into the darkness as it passed over hills and mountains of ice and snow.  There was no bright sun here.  No shining, yellow light.  Only a soft and silvery light that reflected off of the white blanket that covered the world now.  The wind needed no light.  It flowed like water around obstructions; the only thing that flowed anymore on the dead and cold world.  It was sound and without that, it would be nothing.

For a moment, the wind stopped its sad song.  A deathly quiet - a peace of sorts - settled where once the ever-present howl called to those who could no longer hear its cry.  Then - as if called - the air suddenly shifted and sped off in a new direction.  A range of mountains many miles away where the ruler of this dead world had awoke.  The only thing that kept her company was the wind.





"I once loved the night."  The mare spoke, her breath billowing out into the chill air in a smokey haze only to be whipped away by the wind.  She reclined on a bed of blackened stone - the last remnant of a battle won long ago - in a ruined castle held together more by sheer strength of will than by physics.  Tattered tapestries, once grand displays of power and wealth, lay in useless heaps under a thick layer of the ever-present ice.  What little light shone through the broken windows gleamed off of discarded and dented pieces of armor and weapons, scattered about as if dropped by some careless foal.  The ice had preserved everything as it was at the moment of her triumph.  She once had thought that enough.  She once had thought that was her desire.

She did not - could not - move save for her head.  Her body long ago was encased in ice that not even her strength could break.  But her head - that she kept mobile through her will.  She cast an idle glance around the room.  Once, so many ponies had come to pay tribute.  Once, so many happy bright faces had filled these halls.  Once, long ago.

"I thought of them, I thought of them through the long years we were apart."  The mare dipped her head, licking at the ice.  It had been her only sustenance for so long she wondered if she even remembered what real food tasted like.  "I thought that it would be enough.

"I was wrong."

The mare looked across the entire length of the room.  Ice coated all.  The colorless remnants of the stained glass windows that had adorned the walls glittered strangely beneath the ice, their shine lost in the unmoving sea.  The few possessions discarded in terrified flight that had managed to withstand the destruction.  The slagged remains of the once-golden doors that sagged under the weight of aeons.  She looked everywhere save one particular corner.  There, thought covered by ice, lay six stones inscribed with runes.  The last remains of those who once stood against her.  The last defense against her madness.

"I regret.  I cannot feel, I cannot ... feel anymore.  My anger has left me, my sorrow has left me, my ... everything is gone now."  The mare turned her head, her face a brittle mask of calm.  "If I could go back and change anything, I would.  If I could ... if I could take back words spoken harshly and feelings left unspoken, I would."

The mare sighed as best she could, the ice surrounding her constricting as she breathed.  She looked into the sky, the myriad of stars swirling above her in their dance.  How long had it been since she had heard laughter?  How long had it been since she had felt warmth?  How long had she sat there, staring into the uncaring sky and wishing beyond hope for a chance to undo her greatest of mistakes?

"I miss you sister."

She sat there, staring into the darkened night's sky, her eyes unblinking as ice crept up her throat and face.  As she was slowly encased in a glittering coffin.  No tears fell, no last words but what she had already spoken.  Nothing else needed to be said.  Nothing else was left.  She sat there, finally unmoving, staring out beyond where her sight could see.  Memories of warmth and light filled her vision.  Trees and grass.  Blue skies.  A city on a mountain, shining with an intensity that brought shame to the ice that encased her.

Memories of six special mares staring her down, trying desperately to stop the madness that had consumed her.  Of Laughter, a pink blur of energy.  Of Loyalty, her blue face grim and her rainbow mane blowing about.  Of Kindness, a yellow pegasus of untold and untapped strength.  Of Generosity, the sneer a cover for a deeper dread and resolve.  Of Honesty, pure sadness uncovered by any mask.

Of Magic, her purple face showing anger and resolve but also a deep well of sadness and hurt.  Of betrayal.  She had been the key, of course.  The one that could not hurt her.  The one that trusted her, that held back.  The one that failed her by being true.  And the one she failed the most.

As the ice slowly grew across her eyes, the mare wondered if she would ever be free.  To run again, to dance in the sunlight.  To laugh and to love and to cry.

To apologize.





The wind swirled about the ruins of the city, chasing itself through crumbled and broken buildings.  The mare never called now but that was fine.  The wind was sound.  So long as sound existed, it would exist.  Even if the mare never called again, it would exist.  It whistled mournfully, as if to cry out its own existence into the uncaring universe.





Thus lay Empress Celestia.  Sol Inviticus, Queen of the Undying Sun, called Daymare Sol by her detractors.  Her face turned ever upward into the Great Beyond.  The star she once called her own - now a gutted and weak dwarf smaller even than the now-destroyed moon had been, spent as it was from her Madness -  made its way across the sky as the stars slowly winked out, one by one.