Going Past the Sky Limit
It was a beautiful and fragrant grass field, one to frolick in with a carefree trot and with not a care in the world. The sky was clear and blue with its far-reaching horizons, the sun was shining down with its warm light and heat, and the trees gave life to the plains. It was a fun place.
Were it not for the tombstones.
Seven tombstones. Alone. Adorned with flowers, letters, and pictures, but alone.
Or, put in another way, together.
The framed pictures by the deceased’s memorials displayed these wonderful friends in life. From high school through college through work life through families through old age to death, these seven ponies stuck with each other. Smiles were abundant, laughter was a common element, and embraces abounded.
Before these tombstones were two easels that held two pictures. These pictures summarized in two thousand words and one minute the lives of seven friends through a hundred years. On the left stood the first ever group photo these friends had in Canterlot High, those high school students bubbling with joy and having a bright future ahead of them. On the right rested the last group photo these friends had in that same school, back for one final shot as old mares unwilling to go out with a whimper—the determined smiles on their faces said it all in spite of their rickety limbs and their wrinkled faces.
On the tombstones were their names: Twilight Sparkle, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Sunset Shimmer.
And the pony beholding these tombstones was none other than Principal Celestia, crying on her knees as her mane and her tail flowed in the wind, looking as young as ever.
Criminally young as she screamed to the sky.
“Sister!”
Celestia’s eyes snapped open.
Saw Luna’s face first. “Thou hast experienced a nightmare, have you not?”
Celestia shuddered, nodding in fear. “Y-Yes, Luna!”
The principal got off her bed, and went to put on her slippers.
Realized that her slippers did not fit her hooves. She also realized that she was lacking two more slippers.
Luna glanced at her, standing by a bookshelf and an outdated model of the solar system with the sun at the center. Her “hair”, if it could be called that, waved like a fleeting night sky. “Cold sweat is upon your face. That is a bad omen.”
Celestia gulped, wanting to spill the beans, but— “I...I….”
Hugged Luna tight, squeezing her neck and giving her dear sister some breathing difficulties.
Then, Luna pat her on the back, fighting through the pain. “Wh-What is going on? What is this torment thou hast dreamed of?”
“Forever,” Celestia said in a guttural voice, releasing her grip and looking at Luna with wild eyes.
Luna took a step closer, seeing her plight but reluctant to speak.
“W-We’re going to live for thousands of years,” Celestia continued, voice shaky, “and we’re the only ones who’ll stay t-together,” as her vision shifted from Luna’s elegant visage to the floor’s sober drabness.
The Princess of the Night looked down on the floor, too. She sighed. “That is indeed a solemn future.”
“Solemn?!” Celestia shouted, catching her sister by surprise. Flailing her golden-shoed hooves about, “How are we going to live with everypony dying around us?! I...no, we have so many friends, and to see them die while we live on...we’re cheating! Cheating death!”
Was left exhausted, breathing slowly with her shoulders hunched.
Luna looked away, at a loss for words and at an abundance of tears about to flow. For her, too, the thought of immortality—or, at least, of living for a very long time—was a terrifying thought. Mental photographs of forever etched in memory, seeing budding faces swept away by time while hers remaining youthful beyond belief.
She tightened her lips, returning to what she came here for, and managed to say, “Sister, we came here to inform you of th-thy meeting with Princess Celestia.”
Celestia’s eyes widened, that meeting dawning upon her again. Her schedule dawned with it.
“Perhaps you can find solace in her words of wisdom,” Luna encouraged, though, inside, she continued to feel eclipsed by the reality of being long-lived.
It was now Celestia who sighed. She took in a big breath, and put on a firm face, blocking out all the tears wishing to get out. “I hope so, Luna.”
Then, the Princess of the Day trotted out of her bedroom.
But not before she could hear Luna say, “Oh, and do not forget to raise the sun!”
Celestia stopped and turned around. “Thank you for reminding me!”
Then, the Princess of the Day really trotted out of her bedroom.
Principal Celestia began her journey to Canterlot High from her house. While on her way there, she was met with much reverence and respect, more than half the ponies bowing down to her or saluting her or both. All talk was silenced before the alicorn’s presence, all eyes were on her to show high courtesy to the diarch, and everything stopped with a hint of fear.
After all, it would be unwise to abuse the patience of the sun.
At one point, she found Sunny Flare trembling before her by the sidewalk. Celestia halted and made a mellow smile, one that would surely melt any idea of dread from the student’s mind. “You don’t have to do that, Sunny—“
“Spare me!” she yelled, covering her head with both forehooves on her mulberry mane.
Celestia took a step back, surprised at the jittery mare. “Spare you from what?”
“Your anger!”
That got the principal out of her element. Celestia, angry? “But I’m not angry,” she assured, sounding as calm as she could ever be.
“Please have mercy!” Sunny shouted, regarding the diarch’s calm as a thin mask. “I know we’re from rival schools, but please have mercy on me!”
Celestia placed a hoof to her chin, a fear of her own materializing in her head. She had known that absolute control over the sun meant absolute control over the world as she saw fit—or at least the temptation of it. Seeing a myriad of ponies and other creatures kneeling before her to do the bidding of her and Luna—that silenced her, made her heart pace.
Utter power. Everything she ever wanted. No more obstructions.
Celestia swallowed a lump and looked back upon Sunny Flare, re-wearing that smile. “What made you think I was a tyrant? I’m getting used to this whole world-ruler thing myself. Being angry at everypony won’t help me out.”
Sunny Flare didn’t believe that, if her trembling said anything about it.
That led the principal to her last resort: “But if you really want me to say it: Mercy given.”
“Thank you!”
Felt a strong grip on her hoof as it shook up and down thanks to Sunny, and the Shadowbolt galloped off, not out of joy but out of barely avoiding death.
A death which Celestia wasn’t willing to give, anyhow.
When she arrived at the school, she found the swirling portal still there in the statue’s place, patrolled by a squadron of royal guards. She also found two familiar faces, namely Twilight Sparkle and Sunset Shimmer by the front doors.
She did a double take when she saw Twilight wasn’t wearing her glasses. Turned out she was Princess Twilight from Equestria.
Sparkle and Sunset noticed Celestia and waved at her.
Celestia waved back with a nervous smile, her moving mane twinkling under the shining day. “Um...hello?”
Sparkle flew over and landed right in front of her. “Don’t you worry, Principal Celestia!” and swung a hoof across the air.
“The Princess is just as nice so you don’t need to be afraid!”
Sunset chuckled, catching up to the go-getter part-pegasus. “Says ‘I don’t wanna fail the test!’ Twilight Sparkle.”
“That was a hiccup!” Sparkle lashed out in good fun. Then, putting on a grin for the principal, she asked, “So, how’re you doing? You know, with the whole sun business?”
Not wanting to talk about the whole sun business, she lowered her head as a painful sign. “Not so great. Everyone is looking up to me and my sister. Being in charge over a nation and the entire world isn’t doing wonders for me.”
Sparkle’s smile disappeared, trying to be sympathetic. “Well, if you ever need help, you always have our Celestia and our support.” Floating a little overhead and flying close to her ear, “I wish you good luck.”
The principal hung her head lower and aired a mournful sigh. “Can you wish me enough luck for a thousand years?”
Sparkle and Sunset gasped together both screaming, “Oh, no!”
Celestia raised her head, though out of resignation than of bravery. “It’s true.”
Then, the sorrowful royal trotted up the stairs and disappeared into the school’s main hall.
With panic on her face, Sparkle faced Sunset to yell, “How could I forget?! Of course, the principals would get everything their alicorn versions have including their lifespans!”
Sunset shuddered, thinking of being outlived by two principals a couple decades older than her. “That...that’s not going to end well.”
The school library had remained unscathed except for the glass dome. Some if its panes had been broken during the lead-up to the magic mishap. They had been replaced with some back-ups.
Principal Celestia trotted through the hallways, turned to the right, and entered the library.
There, she found Princess Celestia, her mane and her tail also flowing about in their sky-bright colors. The hair twinkled, gleaming under the sun’s light through the dome.
Her face lighted up. "Principal Celestia!” the Princess said, trotting to her and ushering her other self inside with cordial greetings.
The principal nodded, feeling strange having to trot beside somepony who looked, sounded, moved, and acted just like her. “Yes, it’s me.”
The princess chuckled. “It will be awkward to talk to ‘me’ but not ‘me’, if you know what I mean, me.”
“...what?”
“Exactly,” she replied with another playful chuckle. “So, I’ve decided to split our names in two: Celie and Tia. You choose which one.”
The principal gulped, challenged by the decision to choose which part of her name to use. The fact that it was her thousand-year old princess self from a land where magic and talking ponies were never questions only made it more challenging.
After half a minute of serious thought, she resolved the nomenclature issue. “I’ll take ‘Tia’.”
“So I’ll take ‘Celie’,” said the princess.
Now Celie and Tia trotted to the center of the library, passing by the grand array of books still in their shelves. They approached the computer stations, then Celie levitated a chair out of its place. She offered it to Tia. “Do you want to sit down?”
Tia shook her head. “No, thank you.”
“So we’ll have it standing up?” Celie asked, putting the chair away.
Tia froze, still in unbelief over how she was talking to another self of hers. “Y-Yes.”
Celie fixed her stance on the floor. “Well,” looking up at the dome, “it seems you’ve already mastered the art of raising and maintaining the sun.”
Subjecting herself to further unbelief on how she’d done it, Tia nodded. “Y-Yes, Princess.”
Celie made a little chuckle again. “You do realize I’m not your boss, don’t you? I’m only here to guide you, to offer some tips. I’m not going to remove points or whatever—besides, you’ve been doing a great job so far.”
Being told by someone more than twenty times older that she was only there as a guide didn’t sit well in Tia. However, she took it at face value and breathed out, trying to relax. “Certainly. I’m quite alright, really.”
Then, Celie squinted her eyes at her. “No, you are not.”
Struck by the princess’s straight-forwardness, Tia let her hoof slip and she stumbled. “Wh-What?! How do you know?”
Celie’s horn glowed, levitating a cup of tea before her. “A millennium of diplomacy has opened my eyes to a lot of things. One of them is detecting someone’s numerous ticks and tells.”
There’s that word hanging from the beginning. Millennium. A thousand years. A period of time threatening to disturb Tia for eons to come.
Which will surpass a millennium.
“What is it, Tia?” Celie asked, slowly walking up to her other self gripped by fear. She put one hoof on Tia’s shoulder.
Crumpling under the weight of Celie’s compassion, Tia choked.
Burst into tears, flailed on Celie’s shoulders, wrapped her in forehooves, desperate for someone to latch on to.
“How can I live thousands of years alone?!” she screamed, tears splattering the floor, loneliness prevailing. “I’ll leave my loved ones behind! They’ll be jealous of me, that I was able to live one more year—no, hundreds of years after they’re gone! I’ll see their foals die, their grandfoals die, their grandfoals and—” with words failing her, mere words failing to impart her grief in whole, she caved to the ground, a limp and sobbing mass of tear-soddened agony.
A deafening scream broke out, millennia rushing to her head in droves. Today became a long time ago in her eye, seeing none but her sister in a future where magic and technology had fused, but that didn’t matter. Spaceships, planetary colonization, laser guns, hyperlanes—all used by faces she didn’t recognize, by creatures unidentifiable from her first century. Luna remained as the constant that tethered her to sanity, but deranged histories of Nightmare Moon emerged. What if she was banished farther than the moon? Then the once-upon-a-time principal would truly be alone, a relic of an ended epoch, yellow remembrances of home the only way ba—
“Tia.”
And Tia looked up, her eyes reddened as she looked upon Celie’s face.
A face she recognized. A face that cared.
She felt a hoof wrapping hers, pulling her up from that horrible condition.
Celie let out a long-drawn sigh, avoiding Tia’s fatal gaze that asked questions without a word. Gears were turning in that principal’s mind—she was sure of it.
There was silence as the princess thought about what to say. Here was Tia who, less than a week ago, was just a high school principal in her forties. Probably never expected to go any farther than that. Probably wanted to live out the rest of her life as a helpful counselor, settled down in Canterlot as a wise old woman enjoying her final years on Earth.
Of course, plans rarely went according to, well, plan. A forty-something year old suddenly gaining thousands of years to look forward to, if not more—that was a change no one would be prepared for in this world.
Two facts then came to Celie’s mind.
One: Humans lived shorter lives than ponies. There was Granny Smith who’s pretty much guaranteed to enter her second century in less than two decades, and she’s one of the younger seniors in Equestria—and that’s not counting species like the dragons who can easily make it to their one thousandth birthdays by sheer patience. However, last time the princess checked the stats, the average human lifespan was somewhere at seventy.
Two: Mortality was talked about more openly here than in Equestria. It only made sense; when you’ve got over a hundred years to live out, why worry? During her short stay here, the princess noticed an abundance of insurance advertisements—oh, and wasn’t there some story about a thirty-year old man already writing out his last will and testament?
Such led her mind back to Tia’s plight, to her long life.
Celie sighed, pulling Tia in a little bit by the shoulder. “Living for such a long time is hard to grasp.”
Silence, Tia yielding her ears to her much older self.
“When I was young, I was often told that I’ll outlive my friends, that the colts and fillies I’ve played with will see me grow up but never grow old. I didn’t pay much attention to it as I reached my fifties, my seventies, my nineties...yet even then, I noticed the ravages of time. The elders I’ve looked up to slowly died off. I was beginning to attend more funerals than I wanted to. I was hearing too much news about my friends’ plenty great-grandfoals.”
A pause. A hollow, thunderous pause. Their manes waved under the sparkling sun, thoughts turning towards ever-toiling time.
“Then, my first friend died.” She looked up to the sky. “Oh, I remember her appearance, her sweet personality, an undying soul to the end—yes, Good Doer she was. A cutie mark of pumpkin pie...always made the most delicious of pumpkin pies—even her death was sweet and peaceful, and I missed it….”
Tia noticed Celie’s eyes growing wet, noticed vulnerabilities showing in the noble mask.
“After that, I made a vow to myself that I’d never leave any of my old friends behind until they’re truly dead. I trotted with them outside, I stayed with them bedside. When they died, I arranged the funerals myself. It’s to give them a final send-off in loving memories.”
Tia was on the verge of crying, too, seeing the suffering within her princess self. Tia wasn’t looking forward to a thousand years of life, Celie already experienced them with all its lows.
“The last one standing was Crystal Analog. He was an hourglass maker. In fact, for most of his life, he was the town’s go-to pony for anything related to hourglasses—even helped me with my appointments for a few years.
“I was a hundred and thirty, sinking deeper into isolation. Equestria needed me more than it ever did before—Luna was still on the moon, and those thousand years would prove to be quite lonely at times.” She looked to the side, tears for her sister welling up. She wiped them away, though her nose was already running. “Anyway—” sniffled “—Analog had to come down sooner or later, and he came down by the flu. It was so bad, he couldn’t maintain his role as my assistant and not even as an hourglass maker. He died rather quickly—went from healthy to dead in four days.”
Silence, Tia looking to the floor.
“What made me uncomfortable was the peace he always carried even on his deathbed. He never cried, he never complained, and he spoke with the dignity he’s always had. When the doctors told him that he’s incurable, he shrugged his shoulders and smiled. I thought the flu was cracking his mind. Turns out it wasn’t.
“Hours before he died, he saw me sobbing. I was crying for him, but also for myself. With him gone, I’d be the only one left of us old friends. I’d be left with their children who were already beginning to wear down—and, besides, they had their own lives, their own families, their own friends….”
She coughed, a little sore from remembering what happened next.
“Analog heard me crying. He stared at me with nothing to say, but I was willing to wait—I knew he wanted to say something; he just didn’t know how to say it yet. He then asked: ‘Why are you crying?’”
Stopped and raised a hoof.
“‘Why wouldn’t I cry? I’d be left alone, seeing ponies come and go! All the friendships I’ve made would end up cut short, with them dead and me alive!’”
After mimicking the outburst in a much milder manner, Celie tilted her head to the side. “Do you know what he said?”
Tia leaned closer, hoping for anything that would heal her sadness, that would remedy her misery.
“‘Celestia...'"
Putting her hoof on Tia's shoulder.
"...you are lucky.’”
Let the words linger, let the words stir and churn in Tia’s mind.
“‘I’ve only lived a meager hundred or so years, but there’s so much more to explore after I’m gone. Progress is coming, history is being made, but many disregard that because, in the present, it’s all done day-by-day, not page-by-page. I don’t know exactly what the future holds, but I know it holds great things in store. It’s a shame I won’t see what they are, but you will.
“‘There are so many things to do long after they bury me. So many stories to be written and so many adventures to be had. I don’t know the half of it, and I guess you don’t, too—but, in due time, you will. You’ll see how much more exciting this world can be if you give it time.
“‘I know most dearly that I’m the last vestige of your old life still going, and not for long. Yet, I will live on in your memories, in all those cherished times we’ve spent together—and so will the many others who were fortunate to be friends with a kind pony like you. I know you won’t forget us, the first friends you’ve made in your life.’”
Tia then looked up. Friends. There was the word that made her twitch, made her shudder within the thought of thousands of years.
Celie smiled. “‘...but we’re only the first.’”
Tia opened her mouth, confounded by the turn of words.
“‘In the years to come, there will be many more amazing personalities of unique characters, occupations, interests, histories, desires...with that much time on your hooves, you’ll certainly find many ponies better than some old timekeeper stuck in his own house.
“‘And, well, you’re a good pony. You’re a force of harmony in this world. Under your rule, Equestria has only prospered and grown. You are willing to do what’s right no matter the cost, and, honestly, I’m not sure if there’ll be somepony like you if you ever have to kick the bucket.’
“Then, he picked up his most prized possession: The first hourglass he ever made. It was cracked, half-full with aged cider.
“‘Funny, isn’t it? Some things you only understand when death’s near. I’ve made time for time, but not enough time for...others. With that, I became like this useless thing,’” Celie holding the would-be hourglass with her hoof. “‘A wasted being.
“‘But, you...you have time left. So much time left. I’d rather you spend your years looking forward to the sunrise tomorrow instead of moping over graves forever. Give us a minute of your mind’s day and no more. I’ll be happy knowing you’ve made a better use of your time than I did. I know you will.’”
Celie closed her mouth.
It was over.
Tia’s lips trembling, thoughts in frantic recollecting.
Nothing left to do but to hug Celie.
Both Celestias hugged each other.
Silence. Loving silence.
“Thank you,” Tia whispered, choked by tears. “Thank you.”
Heartfelt, Celie smiled, feeling the tears on her forelegs. “You’ll always have someone else, Tia...and if you need help, you can always ask me and my sister.”
It took several seconds for her to nod at that, for her to take it in.
The hug ended, each releasing their grip.
“That reminds me!” Tia said, half-turning towards the library doors. “I have to tell Luna about this! Thank you, thank you!”
And Celie kept smiling, having set her other self up for an exciting journey to last a lifetime.
Nine months later came two interesting celebrations that happened on the same day.
The first celebration was the birth of the Cakes’ twins. While Celestia did visit a few foals in their birth days before, seeing two humble baker Earth ponies caress their foals made her remember how amiable their friendships had been before the catastrophe—and after the catastrophe, too....though it had been strange to see the couple throw away all their old how-to-raise-a-baby resources in exchange for those from Equestria.
As the principal saw the two foals sleeping in their cribs, a thought crossed her mind. She would see them enter school, become teenagers, graduate from college, get a job, have families, retire from said jobs, and die, all without aging herself. They’d have their own foals and the cycle would repeat, seeing those foals enter school—and she knew the rest.
While the thought of losing these future friends terrified her for a bit, she loosened up, remembering that Pound and Pumpkin would be like no other before or after them. Might as well enjoy their friendship when they come of age.
The second celebration was Sandbar’s birthday. Celestia had heard of how the pony was able to return to Canterlot with his friends now turned griffon, yak, and hippogriff—plus his dog-turned-dragon. It had involved a pick-up truck, a ream of paper, and the first ever phone argument between a pony and a changeling. Nevertheless, here they were, partying in his house with his family and more of his friends along with a surprise guest in the form of not one but two Pinkie Pies.
And another Sandbar.
While the party went on in the living room, Celestia helped herself to a cup of tea at the hall, reflecting upon the nice grassy landscape through the window. She looked up and saw the beautiful sun in the sky.
Her sun in the sky.
She heard steps and turned around.
Saw Smolder the Dragon, the Used-to-be-a-dog. With a wave, she made a sheepish smile. “Hey!”
Celestia smiled back. “Hey.”
Smolder jerked a thumb towards the living room. “They’re gonna play the ‘pin the tail on the pony’ thing. Thought you might wanna join in, ‘cause you know...cutesy pony stuff.”
With no hesitation, she placed a hoof on the dragon’s scaly head. “A round or two wouldn’t hurt.”
Smolder rolled her eyes. “Even the princess who raises the sun can’t resist party games, huh?”
That princess chuckled. “Well, why shouldn’t I enjoy them?”
Then, she trotted back to the living room, already garnering stomps and claps of applause from inside.
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Very sweet chapter. Almost made me cry.
That dream was horrifying, mortals are not meant for immortality, the weight of it bends and breaks the mind. Luckily, unlike the princess, Tia will have someone to walk with her. Quite a few people in fact, if alicorns keep popping up like they have been...
Very sweet and well-put. A significant step up from much of the prequel. It's impressive how much you've grown as a writer over the course of this series. Reminds me of a well-known quote from The Lord of the Rings.
Definitely one of the best handlings of the immortality blues I've seen. (Though someone really needs to give ex-human Luna some speech therapy. Possibly her counterpart. This is getting ridiculous.)
This is a very good chapter.
Wait, so...have all the dogs in the world turned into dragons?
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I'd shudder to imagine what a St Bernard and Great Dane would look like in dragon form.
9302141
I can’t imagine what would happen to the seeing eye dogs Or did the magic make blind people whole
I'm curious how the labs and militaries are doing. Also those who rely or use tech. The scientist can't do as much now, other than the ones with those wiggly things, the military has a shit ton of human made weapons and no way to use them. DNA has been fucked up. Etc. Things aren't going well technologically wise I have a feeling.
9302141
or a pitbull
Nice job!This piqued my curiosity to imagine what would happen if all the ponies of Equestria turn to human.