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1 – Exit891 words
2 – Water Damage1,326 words
3 – Motives822 words
4 – Backlash587 words
5 – Temporary1,484 words
6 – Detonation1,077 words
7 – Grandmother2,826 words
8 – Introduction2,654 words

8 – Introduction

Good news! I didn’t die. Which meant it was back to plan A! This was my last chance, and I didn’t muck around with last chances.

When I heard the familiar booming sound of Ol' Sunny warping in, I stood up nice and tall. I waited to hear the blue mare’s voice to come and ruin everything again, but when it didn’t, the show began.

I coughed. I hacked. I spit feathers. I didn’t even know I could do that. I made my whole tree shake just with my old, shambling lungs. After about two whole minutes of my best performance ever, I slumped down on the floor and waited for phase two of the plan: her phase. Pretty soon, she’d be up here searching for me. She’d be finding me. She’d be helping me.

That was, of course, assuming she had even noticed me. After two more whole minutes of waiting, I grumbled and peeked out the window to find her right where she warped in, not budged an inch.

I scowled. I huffed. I prepared for round two, and just as quickly as I readied my next cough, I just sort of let it go.

She was different today. She looked, well, dreadful. It looked like she hadn’t recovered from the little spat with her sister, and instead, just got worse. Her movements had gotten slower. Her head had gotten lower. And her eyes were welling up with tears that I could tell she would let go at any second.

When the tears came out, she raised her head and heaved out a breath, gazing at the exact spot she and her sister had sat last month. She wobbled out to it and sat down, half looking like she was returning to the scene of a crime, the other half looking like she was ready to bawl. She threw her foreleg over her eyes and wheezed. It was way more pitiful than whatever the heck I thought I was doing.

And my heart just absolutely collapsed watching her. Who did I think I was? Coughing and sputtering just for a speck of attention from the girl who clearly had other crap to deal with. She was crying, but I was the sook. I was dying just as normal as anyone else like me and I couldn’t take it. I had to have my problems sorted out for me.

I wanted to go out and see her. I didn’t know half of what was wrong, but things couldn’t be that bad. She just needed someone to remind her.

I raised a leg over the window and tried to pull myself up, but I couldn’t hack it. I grunted and hoisted myself again, but my old bones just melted against the windowsill. I planted my forehead against the wood and sighed.

Everything went quiet around me. There were no more waves crashing. The branches snapping behind me faded away. The seagulls, well, I think they shut up once and for all. There was just that barely crying mare, alone with her thoughts, alone with her life.

Wait, what was that about branches snapping?

I turned around and my heart stopped. Not actually, but it might as well have. Just outside the hole that Sunny so lovingly put in my wall, crouched along one of the branches, was an orange, furry little monster. It was frozen stiff, staring directly at me with red, glowing eyes. It looked like a ferocious statue, if statues were capable of licking their lips. I forced out a painful gulp as the monster skulked its way towards the hole.

That right there? That was my end. I had no strength to move. I had no armor against razor-sharp teeth. I was a delicious, free platter of meat. I had just accepted my death, sure, but I knew it wasn’t supposed to be like that.

The monster placed a paw on my floor and hopped inside. And within a few moments, I was being eaten.

Oh, come on, not actually! How could I be saying this stuff? No, I was saved in the end. It was her, actually—not that she knew anything about it. All she had to do was utter a tiny little sentence between her staggered, pathetic inhales, and send me my signal.

“Oh… Why am I even here.”

The monster and I sneered. I gave it a cheeky wave, and it pounced.

Suddenly spry and fit, I vaulted the window and fell face first on the branch below. The monster smashed its filthy nose against the wood, and I made a little cheer in my head. I pulled myself along the branch, keeping upright by wrapping my legs around it. The bark scratched my body up something fierce, but the pain sort of went away when I felt the shaking of something much larger than me landing behind me.

The branch bowed as I got further out. I looked back and saw the monster salivating and keeping its balance infuriatingly well. It crept up on me, waiting for me to figure out I had nowhere to go. It was just a matter of time, after all, right?

Wrong!

I sat at the edge of the branch, snuck a glance down and saw the sobbing mess below me. My getaway tugboat. Her horn was glowing. Her spell was humming. And soon, she’d be gone. I looked back at the monster, gave it a wink, and fell backwards. It jumped after me, and I laughed in its face the whole way down.

I fell on her head, and I up and died on her face.

Seriously this time.

***

Feathermint shuffled down the castle’s largest hallway having finished her latest thankless job. Dragging her hooves across the dusty carpet, she sidestepped here and there to avoid the patches of moonlight streaming through the windows. Her eyes were focused on a tired, old scrap of paper in her hoof, flittering slightly against the hallway’s stagnant air.

The two armored guards on either side of the castle’s largest doorway heard her hoofsteps echo between the stone walls, but tried their best to ignore them. They glued their eyes to the wall opposite them and propped their chins high, as they were instructed to do at all times the day before, and as they were determined to do whenever anyone was watching them.

Feathermint stopped in front of the closed door and brought the paper closer in. She forced out a long, laborious sigh. The orange guard on her left made an effort to clear his throat, and Feathermint tilted her head without averting her stare.

“Hi,” she muttered. “How ya holdin’ up?”

The guardsponies looked at each other, then down both directions of the hall, then back at the mare.

“Maids usually address guards like that in this castle?” the orange guard asked, eyeing the maid up and down. He nodded to his green partner to see if he knew her, but only got a head-shake back.

“No, but… you’re not guards.” Feathermint replied, finally taking her eyes off the page. “You new here?”

“Yes and no,” the green stallion on the right said with a tired smile. “Can we help you, young lady? The Princess is sleeping presently.”

The orange stallion shook his head. “Clem, you and I both know she’s not in there.”

“Not one for illusions, are you, Steady?” Clem shot back.

“Not one for lies.”

“Hey,” Feathermint interjected, waving the paper between the guards. “Speaking of lies. I dooooon’t want you to read this thing I found in the room down the hall.”

She extended the paper to Clem and gave him a cheeky wink. He winced and took the page in his magic. Clearing his throat for no reason, he withdrew a pair of reading glasses from his armor and placed them gently over his nose, causing his partner to snort.

Feathermint gasped at the green pony in the glasses. “Hey, I know you two. The suitors, right?”

“Used to be,” Steady answered. “The Princess isn’t really in the mood right now, though. And with the council disbanding and half the royal guard walking out on this place over the course of the week, the castle needed some subs.”

“Tough luck, eh?” the maid agreed, dusting the ground with her hoof. “It’s been a… weird week.”

“It’s been a weird year,” Steady grumbled. “Why are you working so late?”

“Oh, I’m just the only pony around here willing to clear out the, um… newly vacant... room. Don’t really know why. Nopony’ll ever use it again.”

“Makes sense.”

“Wouldn’t be right, right?”

“Wait, so you found that note in…” Steady paused when Feathermint lifted her eyebrows and nodded her head. “Whoa, Clem, what does it say?”

“Uhh… I really don’t think we should be reading this.”

“Says the guy who’s already finished. Read it.”

“Alright, alright.”

Clem cleared his throat twice.

“Luna,

I am saddened that I was unable to say goodbye to you more personally, but I also understand your decision. Farewells are tough. You two probably know that better than me. Just know that I have cherished every moment with you and your sister, and that I am proud in advance for what you two will accomplish. I only have one piece of advice left that I selfishly hope you’ll carry with you forever.

Make sure your big sister doesn’t suck the fun out of everything when I’m gone.

Love always,
Grandma Ph—”

A bomb went off in the bedchamber. Or if it didn't, something had done an awfully good impression. The door rattled against the frame and a cloud of dust puffed out from underneath.

The three ponies’ hearts jumped into their throats.

“What was that?!” Feathermint cried.

“Princess?!” the stallions shouted. They tackled either side of the door open and stumbled inside, where they discovered a confusing scene.

Princess Celestia was indeed in the room, perfectly intact, standing at the end of her untidy bed, and bathing in the moon’s stale glow. Her mouth and eyes were wide with shock as she stared fixed at the ceiling. A few hairs from her mane were stuck to her face just beneath her eyes. On her nose was a pile of gray ashes, and on the floor was a scattering of the rest. It was as if she had just avoided an assassination by incinerating her attacker where they stood.

But the strangest addition to the room of all was the orange fox under the bedside table, shaking like a cat pulled from an ice bath. When it saw the ponies looking at it in surprise, it darted underneath the bed and threw its paws over its head—its tail quivering underneath the hanging sheets.

“Are you… alright?” Clem managed to ask.

The Princess gradually turned her head to acknowledge the three ponies in the room, and the shock evaporated from her face. She let her head lower, and the remaining ash fell onto the floor. “I will be.”

She bent down to the floor, wiped the tears from her eyes and whispered, “Come out, little one. I know you’re in there.”

The three distressed ponies looked at their princess with breaking hearts. They weren't sure when or how it had started, but it was clear that their leader was showing signs of senility.

That was, until the ash answered.

It started with a spark. Then, it gathered itself together and glowed a faint orange and red. A flame ignited in the pile’s center and pushed the moonlight out of the room. Princess Celestia gestured for her ponies to come closer, but they shook their heads and stepped back instead.

Feathermint wrapped her foreleg around Steady’s. Clem stepped to the side and dragged the fox out from under the bed by its tail with his magic, not taking his eyes off the flame.

Steady gulped and raised a hoof to step forward, but didn’t. “Princess, st-ah… step away f-from—”

“It’s fine,” she assured. “Just watch.”

The fire swirled in place, gathering the rest of the ashes into its flame and rising into the air. Celestia shielded her eyes, and the other three ponies did the same. The fire spun faster and faster and hissed in excitement, before vanishing outward in a flash of light.

The three ponies gasped, and the fox – hovering in the air by its tail – yiped. The four of them kept their eyes shut tight until they heard their princess faintly gasp.

The heat had gone, but the fire was still there. Hovering in the center of the room was an exotic bird as colorful as the flame that birthed it. It spread its wings wide, cawed tremendously, and grew a satisfied grin. Its wings flapped with powerful force, sending sparks and fire downward, yet somehow setting nothing ablaze.

The three attendants and the fox gawked, and while no-one was watching, Celestia’s smile returned.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she said. She could have been addressing anyone in the room, but the bird accepted it anyways, nodding its head in agreement.

Her movements slow, the princess crouched down and approached the red animal, making sure it was watching her the whole time. When she was close enough to touch it, she bowed her head and lifted her hoof.

“Princess!” Clem protested, but she didn’t respond.

The bird perched itself on her leg and cawed again. It stretched its wings out and awkwardly wrapped them around the princess’s head, nuzzling its cheek against hers.

“Aww...,” Feathermint cooed.

Celestia giggled and whispered something to her new friend. When it let go, she wiped what was left of the tears from her face and let out a final sniff. “Would you like to be outside?” she asked the bird. “It’s a beautiful night.” Her horn brightened, and the window next to the bed unlatched.

The cold December air filtered into the room, and the fox whimpered.

The bird’s eyes flashed. Without warning, it zoomed towards the attendants and stopped right in front of the animal, sending several sparks into its cringing face. It waited for the fox to open its eyes and then blew its tongue in its face. The fox yelped and wrenched itself out of Clem’s magic, landing harshly on the floor and sprinting into the hallway.

"Wait! Come back!" Clem called after, and exited in a hurry.

The bird cackled and spun into a double barrel roll, before shooting out the window like a firework with wings.

Celestia galloped after it. She turned back to the attendants and did a poor job of suppressing the grin spreading across her face. "Come see," she implored.

"I'm good here," Steady said flatly.

Celestia turned back to the window and opened it up enough to poke her head outside. A swift breeze swirled around the room and swept up a scrap of old paper off the floor. It danced behind Steady, between him and Feathermint, then finally floated in front of the castlemaid's face. She snatched out of the air, brought it in and examined it one last time, then let go of the stallion and trotted to her princess's side.

“...Princess Celestia?” she uttered.

“Yes, Feathermint?”

“Who’s… Philomena?”

The Princess's smile faded. She closed her eyes and her head dropped low. She breathed one long breath—five seconds in and five seconds out. “I’m not sure,” she responded, raising her head and reclaiming her smile. “We’ve only just met.”

And she laughed—not very hard, but longer than anyone in the room expected.

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