//------------------------------// // Epilogue+ // Story: Sunset of Time // by Albi //------------------------------// The Road to Hell is Paved With Good Intentions  The black road continued to stretch deeper into the unyielding abyss. Darkness surrounded her on all sides, unaffected by the ball of light hanging on the tip of her horn. She wore only a plain traveling cloak—no crown, no regalia. For Tartarus hardly cared for titles. Her status was just enough to get her past the gates. Beyond them, she was no princess. She was just Celestia. Contrary to popular belief, Tartarus was cold. A haunting cold that pierced not just the body, but the very soul. The air was thick with lamentations and regrets. Sobs, moaning, and insane laughter filled the void. Prisoners were hardly tortured here. No, their punishment was solitude—to sit in their prisons, alone and undisturbed until the end of time; left to reflect on their actions and weep for their sins. Many lost their minds from loneliness. Celestia kept a calm but brisk pace. The cold stone bit into her hooves, making every step harder than the last. Flying was forbidden in Tartarus. She had meant to make this trip earlier. Much earlier. She had a perfect opportunity right after Tirek had been re-imprisoned, but felt her country took precedence as it always did. And nothing about this trip was certain. For all she knew, she was dragging her hooves across the rough stones for nothing. Still, she had to be sure. If there was even a small chance, Celestia was willing to take it. The path sloped up and branched off into three separate paths. Celestia paused and strained her eyes into the endless dark. Light flickered at the end of each path, the question was, which did she take? After examining each option, she took the far right, following it over a bottomless ravine. It was a decision of the heart, nothing more. On the other side of the ravine was a circle of rocks enclosing a prison made from a ring of light. Celestia stepped up the ring’s edge and placed a hoof on the invisible barrier separating her and the prisoner on the other side. Her heart had led her the right way. They sat at the far end, wrapped in a black cloak that covered everything. If they noticed Celestia, they gave no indication. They continued to stare at the cavern wall, completely still. Celestia made a small cough. It echoed through the cave and sounded like an avalanche to Celestia’s ears. It got the prisoner’s attention, however. They turned around and shambled over to the barrier, keeping their face hidden. A voice, raspy from disuse escaped from the hood. “The princess has graced me with her presence. I feel honored.” Try as she might, Celestia couldn’t see into the darkness the hood provided. But she knew who was under it all the same. “Hello, Sunset,” she said, using all her strength to keep her voice from trembling. “How are you?” “Tired.” Sunset’s hood swished back and forth. “And you still call me by that name? I am not Sunset, Celestia. Not anymore.” “I refuse to call you Vesper Radiance,” Celestia said sternly. “You are still my Sunset, regardless of what happened. You can change your name as many times as you like, but I will call you Sunset Shimmer because that is the pony I loved. That’s the pony you still are deep inside.” Sunset made a cross between a cough and a rattle of tiny beads. Then Celestia realized she was laughing. “Still perfect. Still the wonderful alicorn that deserves to be admired. Hahahahaha—” Her laughter dissolved into coughs, then degraded into hacking. Celestia pushed her hoof into the barrier, but was unable to reach Sunset. The coughing fit lasted for several minutes before Sunset fell on her side, gasping for air. Celestia laid on her belly, putting herself at eye level to her. “Are you all right, Sunset?” She struggled for air, occasionally breaking into smaller fits again. She murmured something unintelligible in between her wheezing. “What was that?” “...Name… isn’t Sunset.” She pushed herself into a sitting position. “Vesper Radiance.” Celestia folded her ears. She stretched her neck out to nuzzle Sunset, but was reminded of the force field once again. “Why do you insist on being called that?” Sunset’s hood turned away. Her voice came out, rough and sharp. “Because she took my real name away. She’s the better of us two.” It fell into a feathery whisper. “She proved that, in the end, she… was superior. She’s the real one. I’m just a phantom.” Sunset’s voice trailed away. Something small and glittery fell from the dark void of her hood. “That isn’t true. You’re just as real as she is, despite what happened. Yes, she took a better path than you—she accepted harmony and friendship; she was prepared to sacrifice herself for her friends. But that doesn’t make you any less real than she was.” Celestia closed her eyes. “I remember all the good times we had together. I remember your laughter and your innocent curiosity for knowledge. I remember all your efforts to make me smile or cheer me up after a hard day. I remember your love, Sunset. That was all real to me.” The silence of Tartarus seemed to double when Celestia stopped speaking. Sunset kept her back turned, remaining still as stone. “A phantom,” she repeated. “I’m a shell of who that mare was. She’s dead. She died when you crowned Twilight Sparkle. I’m not her, and my reincarnation turned herself into something far better than I ever was. So where does that leave me?” There was another rattling cough. “By all rights, I shouldn’t even be here. I vaporized myself into so many pieces, I should have never come back, in that life or down here.” She raised the hem of her cloak and revealed something that could barely be called a hoof. It was made mostly of swirling grey dust trying to piece itself back together, combined with fragments of solid bone. “You go to Tartarus how you die. Only, there was nothing left of me to send.” She rattled again. “Perhaps the Maker was granting me a mercy by piecing together as much as she could.” Celestia pinned her ears back and swallowed the lump rising in her throat. She knew Sunset had committed heinous crimes and needed some form of punishment. But wasn’t this a little much? Sparks jumped from the tip of Celestia’s horn, but as much as she wanted to break through the barrier and wrap her hooves around Sunset, she knew she couldn’t. The magic of Tartarus was beyond her.   Sunset retracted her hoof, and her body swished from side to side. “Why are you here?” “I wanted to see you.” The cloak turned away. “No. You wanted to see Sunset Shimmer. She’s dead.” Celestia stood tall, narrowing her eyes. “No she is not. She’s only dead if you let her die, Sunset.” There was a small scraping sound as Sunset tried to paw at the dirt. “You put far too much faith in me, Celestia.” “Them answer me one question, Sunset.” Celestia exhaled slowly, remembering what happened the last time she had asked this question. “Do you regret anything? Do you regret any of the actions you took on the path that brought you here?” There was no wind in Tartarus, but something swept across Celestia all the same. It left her colder than before, and she pulled her cloak tighter across her body. Sunset, meanwhile, had not said a word. She scraped at the ground several times, and an odd sound between a cough and a pant came from her hood. She looked over her shoulder and said in an even scratchier voice than before, “I… regret disappointing you.” Remorse. It draped itself through the air, wrapping the two ponies in a cold cocoon. Sunset’s remorse bled through her prison and permeated the air around Celestia. And yet… it sparked a warmth in her heart. Sunset continued. “I just wanted to make you happy. No… I wanted to make myself happy, and I thought making you acknowledge me and only me would do it. I was… blinded by my ambition to make you love me, that I forgot why I was doing everything in the first place. I…” Another piece of glitter fell from the darkness of her hood. “I’m sorry.” Celestia gave her a watery smile. “You see? The Sunset I love isn’t dead. She was just lost and confused.” She hiccuped and wiped her face. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you find your way in time.” Another rattling, raspy laugh left Sunset. “Celestia… my bleeding-hearted princess. Apologizing for something that wasn’t your fault.” “I am not blameless in this, Sunset. I told you before: I’m not infallible.” A soft pause. “You were always perfect to me.” For a time, neither said a word. Celestia stood, staring at the back of Sunset’s cloak, while Sunset sat, hunched over and completely still. Looking at her… looking at the remains of her daughter, broken and remorseful; Celestia’s chest knotted up. She wanted weep and cheer at the same time. More than anything, she just wanted to hug Sunset once more. Sunset cleared her throat and looked over her shoulder. “Has… has she come back yet?” Celestia dipped her head. “Not yet. Twilight says she can feel her though. She’s getting a little closer everyday.” Sunset nodded. “I can feel her too. She’s… determined, I’ll give her that much.” She dragged a hoof against the ground. “To defy the denial of existence. To overcome time and space. I still do not understand… she showed me some of it—allowed me to experience some of its warmth, but…” Sunset turned around, still keeping her hood low. “Is friendship truly that powerful?” Celestia slowly raised her hoof and pushed it against the barrier again. “It is one of the strongest forces in existence, Sunset. When coupled with love, it creates a power no one can truly understand. But it protects us and guides us, even in our deepest despair.” The cloak trembled in hesitation. Then, very carefully, an amber hoof appeared from within. The fur around it was short and patchy, but the hoof was whole. Sunset raised it and pressed it against Celestia’s. “But what do you do when they all leave?” she whispered. “When they all abandon you?” “True friends will never abandon you, Sunset. They’ll stay with you in your heart forever.” Celestia pressed her hoof harder into the shield, hoping she could just graze Sunset’s hoof. A simple touch to show she cared. Instead, Sunset finally raised her head up. From within the darkness, Celestia saw one teal eye stare back at her, full of remorse and a desire for real love. Sunset pulled her hoof away and lowered her head. “I know why I lost… why I failed. But still…” she shook her head. She was unsure of what to say next, but Celestia still wanted to offer some words of solace. A distant roar stopped her before she could say anything else, however. She pinned her ears back, looking at the long road she would have to traverse. “I’m afraid I have to go, Sunset.” The teal eye appeared again. “O-oh… I… I understand.” She picked herself up and trudged back to the center of her prison. Celestia wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry. I…” “No, it’s okay.” The crack in her voice was unnoticeable to all but Celestia. “You’re the princess. Equestria needs you. It doesn’t deserve you, but it needs you.” You need me too, my lost little pony. Even if you don’t want to admit it anymore. When Sunset spoke no more, Celestia turned down the path. Her ears twitched and she looked back. “What?” “... Will you visit me again?” The corners of Celestia’s mouth folded upwards. “Of course I will. I promise.” She had taken two steps when she heard a soft and sincere voice say, “I love you, Mother.” Celestia looked back, seeing the young filly she had taken in so many years ago. She was struggling, but she was still alive. “I love you too, Sunset.”