A thin branch traced a line in the sand. Wind bit and blew at the line, smoothing the edges and carving the walls. The huntsman didn't react. He raised his crossbow silently, lifting it with unicorn magic, scored an arrow into the groove, stared down the length of it, and fired.
Driven true, wood met wood on the shoreline. The hardened steel tip cut into the timberwolf's leg, splintering the tibia and sending shards cascading into the sand. The wolf growled, but stood it's ground, staying behind the rudimentary line it had drawn. Being now embedded in the leg of the wolf, the arrow quivered with each movement, but the creature seemed unaffected. However, neither did it come past the line and openly attack the huntsman, respecting him as an equal in an equally cruel world. It was unlikely that the respect was mutual however, seeing as the huntsman simply raised his crossbow again, another arrow loaded.
A species unaccustomed to cowardice, the timberwolf stood his ground, obstinately redrawing the line deeper in the sand. It paced backwards a few steps, then lowered itself onto its haunches. The arrow embedded in the wooden knee twitched, but the beast didn't falter. A guttural growl rolled across the beach, easily heard over the soft wave falls. Quiet whispers flit through the breeze.
Now the huntsman was saying prayers. Under his breath, and in a tongue the wolf did not understand, but it didn't need to. Knowledge of those foolish enough to believe in things beyond sense had killed many timberwolves during the time of yearning. An ancient time, still bitter in memory and deep in carving. The wisdom of that time, too, had lasted. The huntsman closed his prayer, and looked down the crossbow again. Staring through a grey mist of aura.
Caressed by it's own ethereal aura, the arrow shifted position in the crossbow, as if the huntsman wanted to be sure. He took a final glance along the sights, then tugged gently at the trigger. The arrow leased itself into the air, surging forward. This time, when it hit, wood didn't chip or send splinters into the sky. This time it entered through the mouth, and exited through the spine, knocking a bone straight out of the timberwolf's skeleton. The wolf staggered. Swayed. Fell into the sand and spray. The magic holding the branches together unwound, leaving a disparate collection of sticks.
Even in spite of this, a trace of magic remained behind. A timberwolf does not die so easily. So with a swirl of green eldritch energy, the sticks rose up and formed a cyclone. It swirled and lifted the branches, trying to form them together. However, the huntsman was not out of tricks either. Rather sharply, he ended his levitation of the crossbow, letting it fall into the sand at his front hooves, and manipulating his horn again, cast a strong spell. His pale grey magic seethed and met the green spiral head on.
Wind battered against the huntsman as the conflict of magic stirred up the air around him. The green magic slowly absconded to him, drawn by his powerful incantation. Split and sucked from the timberwolf's wooden bones, the magic followed the huntsman as he paced backward a few steps, sweat glistening on his brow. The wind grew stronger still, shifting his quiver from one side of his back to the other. Uncomfortable, he paused for a moment to switch the quiver back.
"I implore you to stop!" a voice called out, feminine and small, like that of a filly.
The strong, clear voice carried across the gale and into the gulf. The huntsman heard it, causing him to drop the spell, and what little of the green magic that remained fell solemnly into the pile again, inert. Young but still trotting as if imbued with authority, the filly emerged from above, standing high on top a crag overlooking the lifeless beach. Her pink mane was tousled by the breeze that hung in the air as
the wake of battle. She pulled a black robe across her body with a golden magic, and rubbed her hooves together before addressing the huntsman.
"How dare you assault such a creature? Especially with such a weapon."
"This monster was terrorizing the grounds. Had I not been perfecting the use of my bow, it would surely have come after you, my princess," said the huntsman, rearranging his quiver again uncomfortably. Either from the sea spray or from sickly sweat, a watery sheen lit up in gold on the huntsman's countenance as the filly's horn conflagrated in a fabulous light show. It lasted for a brief moment, and a fire flash later, she was stood by his side. He switched the quiver to the side of his body opposite her.
Hastily, evening air extended the fingers of night, petrichor of the sea adding a tang to the dusk. The silence also whispered of the darkness soon to come. Beyond the soft breathing of the filly and the sharper intakes of the older huntsman, upturned ears could only make out the lull of cresting waves. Despite being the elder, the huntsman shifted his weight from side to side, feeling the rough fabric of the quiver chafe against his thinning coat. His front legs were buckled slightly at the knee, as if waiting for an opportunity to kneel.
"Experimentation is distinct from protection. Were you saving the castle as a liberator, or testing a new weapon as a huntsman?"
Wit and wisdom soaked the question in tones unusual for a pony so young. However, this was no ordinary pony it would seem, as the huntsman cowered down on his front knees at her words. He grit his teeth as sand scratched his legs, but refused to avert his gaze. Again, it seemed as though the huntsman did not grant respect. It was of no consequence to the filly, as she became silent again, waiting for his answer. After all, no response could fully satisfy the question without presenting the same candor.
Oceanic overtures echoed.
"Leave your quiver as you go, huntsman," the filly commanded, "Clearly it is an unfit instrument for the castle."
For a moment, it seemed as though he would argue, but he bit his tongue and stalked off to the castle, finally ditching the quiver at his feet, upending the bag and letting the feathered fletching ruin in the beach sand as though that would somehow spite the princess. She ignored the gesture and turned her head slightly as he left. Turning back, she offered a few paces forward and folded at the sticks. Whilst down, she levitated the sticks to one side lest they become enticed to float away. Then, she focused all of her magic to the tip of her horn, and waited.
In brief moments, the light from her horn began to warm the air around it, heat rising in waves. It still was not enough. Her horn burnt like a wick, but only when it felt as if it would shatter and ignite did she release it. In a fireball of cascading embers that fell like celestial crystals, magic poured over the branches. When it stopped pouring, it flooded. Both the filly and the remains of the timberwolf lifted into the ground, shards of potent magic dripping to the sand below, causing it to glass over. The light was not a pure white, but it flickered between the red of rage and the sky of sadness. The filly wept over the carcass, and roared over the waves. It was a display of almost godlike imagination and divinity, pervading precious barriers between the immortal realm and ours.
Now rising from slumber, ancient forces took note of this new disturbance. Some returned to sleep, some roused themselves and began to think.
Soaring higher than mere mundanity, the clouds reflected the unpublished soul of the filly. In a heartfelt letter to the heavens, the child bestowed the greatest treasure unto the husk that was a timberwolf. Not once did she pause, not once did the ultimate never-ending stream of glorious sunshine cease. Only when all the magic had been spent, only when the sky fluoresced in the colours of the rainbow, and the beach melted into a glass carpet, only when the earth called reply and water's dominion wavered; only then did the flow halt. The sky met the land, the land met the sea, and the sea met the sky. And at the centre of the triarchy was the timberwolf, and its otherworldly emissary.
Infinity peeked through the cracks in reality, but the magic was gone now, expended into the timberwolf. The filly gently floated back to earth, her hooves clicking as she landed on the newly formed sparkling glass. The branches remained hooked to the sky. They danced now, danced to the tune of their resurrection. It was no surprise when they began to reform into the shape of the timberwolf that had died on the beach. But the world it had left was not quite the same as the one it entered now. Something subtle had been altered. Something had returned that should have continued on. Life. In times past, immutable; but no longer.
During the reformation, the filly noticed a problem. One of the timber femurs had floated off out to sea before she had time to save them all. Not trifled, she reached out her now drained magic, exerting physical strength to power her horn. Grasping an arrow with a flexed aura, she wrenched it to her hooves, then used them to manipulate the arrow into position. It was accepted and slowly enraptured by the magic.
Even as the wolf floated gently back to the ground, it became aware of it's surroundings. The timberwolf shook its head and then tried to run in the air, but came to realise the futility. Patiently waiting to land, it stared into the filly, as if knowing what she had done. As if knowing the consequences. The filly pulled on her gown, tugging it to cover more of her exposed fur against the wind. She stepped a pace backwards as the timberwolf tried to walk, falling multiple times. It seemed the new leg was slightly longer than the rest. A tiny price to pay for the gift of life.
Understanding washed over the filly's face as she pondered the true implications of her actions. This had gone beyond her now. She had to seek a higher power for aid. She turned back to the castle, taking a few steps, but then turning back to check on the timberwolf. It had lay down, and now yawned cavernously. Given the circumstances, no pony would begrudge it the deserved sleep. Instead of waking it, the filly lifted it into the air by means of magic and began trotting back to the castle in the distance.
Soon they were at the gates, as the castle had been built close to the water's edge. The filly stood in front of the towering doors, but not for long. The guardsman quickly let her in, they had little choice. Timberwolf in tow, the girl trekked up towering stairs to the highest peak in the castle. When she reached the top, the wolf lifted an eyelid drowsily. Realising it was trapped, it scurried in the air, writhing to free itself. Then it growled and the noise reverberated throughout the tight chamber. The filly cast a spell of silence, then caught the timberwolf’s gaze.
“Alas, friend, we can’t speak here. The guards won’t hesitate to take you from me. Keep quiet until we can meet with the wizard.”
Luckily, the wolf seemed to comprehend her words, and stopped moving. Regardless, a distant clinking from downstairs made it patently obvious the creature’s cries had not gone unheard. The wolf’s companion rapped on the door that faced them both; the only door at the top of this staircase. It was wooden, and shoddily constructed, which deeply contrasted the polished marble that adorned the rest of the castle. Blackened blast marks opposite the door indicated that perhaps the door was built in a hurry, and out of necessity.
Light hoof-falls approached the doorway. The timberwolf shrunk back in the magical containment field. Then a rattling of chains and the turning of a lock came through the thin plywood. The door slowly opened, to reveal the spire’s inhabitant. He was a ragged man, tall and gaunt. However, he was young also, despite his deep grey coat and blue robes that made him seem like he had just gotten out of bed. The filly rushed to his side and hugged his leg tightly.
“Is this my favourite pupil?” he said in a soft tone, “My, you seem to have brought a very special friend. Will he let me take a look at him?”
Slowly, the timberwolf sniffed out this new pony, and when the stallion didn’t immediately try to kill him, it seemed it let down its guard, allowing the wizard to whip out a contraption that looked a cross between a monocle and a retractable telescope. He placed it on his eye, and extended the barrel on the device so the closest lens almost touched the timberwolf’s nose. He circled the timberwolf, examining it from all angles with his device, occasionally pausing, writing something in a one of the books that floated around his head in a paper constellation.
“You revived this creature, did you not, child?”
Over the click and whirr of various gadgets scattered around the room, there wasn’t a sound. The filly seemed either ashamed of her actions, or reverent of the older pony. Eventually, she answered, but spoke with care.
“Unless I had not been there, this timberwolf would have been needlessly killed for sport. If my role is to be guardian of Equestria’s inhabitants someday, I choose today to be the start. And I start with him.”
“Rarely can a filly of your age speak with such authority. It is a gift, but also a curse. No-pony is to know your destiny as ruler, remember that. However, this creature is an interesting quandary. It may stand in the way of your foretold ascension. You’ve poured your soul into this beast. You may not be able to get it back.”
“Would it better if I did not get it back?”
“Oh, that is clever. An excellent question, but before you ask it, let me tell you the facts. This timberwolf is the product of your own magic and a tiny tear in the fabric of reality. There’s no telling what that tear means, but I can tell you one thing about it. It will cost you your life someday. I’m sure you know the old adage about alicorns living forever? Well, it’s false. Granted, you have a greatly extended lifespan, maybe even hundreds of thousands of years, but nothing can live forever, my dear.”
“Life is temporary,” the filly said quietly, keenly aware of this fact.
“Fortunately it is also beautiful. Think of your mother, she’s about to give life to your sister in the most magical event there is. But you’ve given this creature life also, which meant giving up some of yours.”
Alicorn. Always the fascination of magical folk Equestria over. There was an undeniable magic to them, an air of mystery of their origins and above all, a regality to their species. It was not a term to be thrown around lightly, but even though the fill wore her black cloak, the faint outline of wings could be seen underneath. Her affinity with the timberwolf was as much a racial trait as it was a formed bond. That, however, did not make it any less true.
Finding that the stallion was expecting an answer from her, she opened her mouth to speak. Then, she took a moment to think. Then she closed her mouth again. There were some things that didn’t need to be said to be communicated. Her mentor, the grey stallion, nodded his approval. He said nothing as she turned and left, and quietly shut the door after her.
Risking the chance the timberwolf would run, she released it from the magical spell, and being the intelligent creature it was, the wolf did not make a sound as they descended the stairs. It was more like a pony in demeanour than a monster from the northern forests. It certainly didn’t resemble a pony though. Made entirely from wood, and with one leg half shattered and the other an arrow below the knee, it could have been torn from the pages of a story. Some sort of demented beast from the pits of Tartarus.
Intellect spoke in the timberwolf’s eyes, undoubtedly. Upon reaching the room belonging to the filly, she closed the door and stared deeply into those eyes. What would she do now? What could she do now?
Exhausted from the day’s events, she reached out a hoof slowly to scrape the nose of the wolf. It didn’t recoil, but allowed her to run her hoof across its snout. It was oddly warm, but solid and wooden also. The filly thought for a while. She sat in her room for an eternity and thought.
Near the water’s edge, Celestia paused. Through the thick fog she could see what had used to be the beach, but it was now submerged in water. Underneath the lapping waves, the glass beachfront could be seen glimmering under encrusted barnacles and seaweed. She set down her travelling pack, and walked into the water.
Deep memories welled to the surface, she remembered this place. They had both been younger then, more naïve and innocent. It was thousands of years ago, but felt just like yesterday. The light breeze still felt familiar after all of this time.
Here she was. She was waiting for a friend. An old friend. Maybe even one of the oldest creatures in Equestria, but still breathing. Not for long, it was only a matter of time before they both perished in the cold and wet. Her breath quickened, but she calmed herself. Death was inevitable, Celestia reminded herself. It seemed even a princess could fear the inevitable.
The light was dying on the horizon, casting an orange blaze across the landscape, and the fog made it seem as though the sky around her was alight. Fitting. The Princess of the Sun, in full view of her responsibility, surrounded by its magnificence. Twilight would have to take over her mantle, Celestia supposed. She hoped it wasn’t too much of a strain on her protégé, but she knew it would be, to begin with. That’s why she had friends; this day was inevitable, but to ease the passage, Celestia had been training Twilight for a long time.
Long enough, though? No, this wasn’t the time to question what she had spent her entire life building up.
A rustle in the shrub caught her eye. Over the years, a forest had grown there, so thick that no-pony even remembered the beach existed. But from that forest emerged a dark figure, bulky but squat. He walked on four legs, thick and strong. Her friend.
Just like the alicorn, it seemed he had grown immensely over time. He would have towered over other timberwolves, and his body was so large that his feet were a mess of roots, moss and logs. She could properly face him eye to eye for the first time. Running forward through the sea, she threw up her front hooves and embraced him in a warm hug. With his right leg, he reciprocated.
Celestia wept with happiness and turned her head to the water below. She watched her tears drip into the pool, falling past the arrowhead, still poking through the other branches that had come to join it. She laughed.
“It’s been so long. How are you?”
The timberwolf looked at her for a moment, then rubbed his snout against her muzzle. She felt the wood against her skin, a wonderful, warm, sandpaper cuddle. She felt her heart freeze in her chest. Why could they not stay like this forever? Why must they die here?
She already knew the answer. The universe takes what it gives. But how could that be true? If Celestia had only learned one thing in her long lifespan, it was that the universe was loving. Friendship, after all, was the greatest magic. In fact it was magic. It couldn’t be both cruel and loving.
But she knew one thing for sure. This beach she stood on, the glass beneath her feet. This was where the two oldest beings in Equestria came to die.
She hoped, that if, just if, friendship really was magic, maybe they could survive the night. Maybe she would wake up the next day, next to her friend, buried in each other’s legs and laying in the water. She tried to recall her adventures with the wolf for comfort. It was he who had taught her to be more playful and adventurous, that there were always more adventures to be had. Well, not this time, it would seem. This time was the last adventure.
And so, with the sky on fire, two friends lay down in the water, stared out across the sea, and dreamed of a future they may not live to see.
From above, the sun smiled down on them.