Cutie Mark Crusaders Fantasian City-State Historians, YAY!!!!!!

by Dragonborne Fox

Sixth Day, Evening—Lonesome March

In their little guest room, the trio put the finishing touches on the seventh chapter of their report, making sure to include illustrations for the various food items that the Aerie produced, as well as some of the rather peculiar ingredients used before the butchering and cooking processes began. Better to have little flourishes here and there, and be fancy, than to favor function over form and confuse the hell out of Cheerilee and the rest of the class.

And the illustrations were fun to make, though they had to take a few go-arounds with lead and eraser before settling on a final design that they then reinforced with ink. Erasing the rest of the lead once the ink dried was quick work, and left their little drawings as pristine as unblemished chalk.

In addition to that, all they had to complete were the footnotes and references part of their report—the trickiest part of all. Most of what they had so far were verbal testimonies, and the cliffnotes taking heed of said verbal testimonies. If they had something written by the Fantasians themselves, it would cinch it—and therein lay the first true problem they had encountered with their report. Sure, the photographs were real enough, but those hardly contained words.

So, they needed to get that tidied up before returning for Equestria on the morrow. Only Godcat knows what Cheerilee would say if they even tried to half-attempt this section. Question was… how were they going to obtain what they were after? As far as they knew, the adults only had magical projections of their memories, and hardly anything concrete otherwise—they'd need to pull off the impossible feat of smuggling a General and his Lieutenants into the classroom, which… might traumatize their classmates.

Which would leave them little better than Fantasia's careless, cruel adults if they went down that route, especially since the military needed their leaders to be with them because of some stupid war with Redpine looming on the horizon. So they had to take the next best thing: asking the soldiers if they knew where their superiors were at. Unfortunately, the question had been dodged numerous times, as the soldiers only said they had to prepare for something that same night, so the Crusaders might as well have been outta luck. However, if they got what they were after on the morrow, then finished tomorrow night before school, everything would be peachy keen.

So why, then, were the soldiers preparing for things other than the looming war with Redpine? What, then, were they preparing for? Something didn't add up, and Apple Bloom crossed her forelegs at the thought. She looked to her friends and asked, "Did y'all notice anything weird with the soldiers?"

Scootaloo frowned. "They were all wearing hats… and frowns," she said with a shrug. "Even Blue Crow and his group had hats… but why do they need them? Is it gonna start raining in the Aerie or something?"

Sweetie pursed her lips, then shook her head. "I dunno about you, but they sounded sad. Like… not crying-sad, but just, 'this memory makes me sad,' if that makes sense?" she proffered. "It's almost like something jogged their memory banks, and now it's causing them to wilt or something."

"Yeah. The changelings, I can understand, given what they eat," Scootaloo agreed with a nod. "But the gryphons are doing the same thing, and nobody can tell us why? I'm trying to wrap my head around that. And ever since we've come back from the cargo bays, nobody's seen the General or his Lieutenants. Which is a bummer, if we can't finish this report on time…"

"We'll finish it on time; we have to. Cheerilee didn't say the report couldn't be late, but I don't wanna know what'll happen if it is late," Apple Bloom said, a hoof on her hips and a frown on her face.

"Yeah, but… where are the General and his Lieutenants? We need them to write out something concrete so we can use it as a reference for our report's last section," Scootaloo pointed out, wings spreading and then lowering.

"... but what would they write down? They wouldn't mention the fact they're alicorns or a half-Umbrum to anyone outside the military, and had to tell soldiers to stop shooting their mouths off," Sweetie replied, shaking her head. "That, and we don't know the full story of Greenwood, just that it was really awful."

"Not to mention the whole thing about the Fantasians not liking their own alicorns," Scootaloo said, pursing her lips at the thought. What on this kooky planet had said alicorns done to get the entire populace roused against them and their children? And did it have something to do with Faust before She got Herself sealed?

Before they could trade notes again, they heard a distinct hum in the air, a vibrating note that grew in volume, and looked around the guest room. Hovering above the bed were wisps of ice and fire that did not freeze or scald anything, intermingling with light and dark in an intricate dance that solidified into twin, suspiciously legged cats with white fur and blue eyes, and black fur with red eyes respectively. The cats turned to look at the fillies, with oddly… solemn expressions on their faces.

Hesitantly, the three approached the floating felines, wondering what had brought them here. "Wha…" Sweetie Belle began, only for the white cat to hold up a paw wreathed in a faint blue aura.

"Hush, child, and listen…" the white cat said telepathically, her tone motherly, calm… and sad. "Tonight… is a night that holds importance to those whose blood has fallen, to those who have been cast aside from Fantasian society, who have wandered from the afterlife for one night to see if their former living conditions have improved."

The Crusaders didn't know who the cat was or what she wanted, but decided to heed her words if she could just come here on a whim. They perked their ears, and heard the sound of wind whistling through the Aerie, despite the fact that the room they stood in was closed off for the time being. Voices came with that wind; whimpering, crying, mourning, and every other sorrowful pejorative that could name itself in their somewhat limited, young vocabulary could be heard. A few voices were cursing, screaming, howling in anger, and like the mournful ones faded as soon as they were heard.

"The damned are the dead, and should be resting. Yet tonight, they are restless," the black cat said telepathically, her voice a growling contralto that sounded somewhat hushed, almost… holding back anger. "By the same token… the righteous, the innocent amongst them, are equally as fitful. They should be heeded, and guided back home." When the children turned to them again, the black cat motioned to the door with her paw. "Behold the mournful procession, and help guide the dead back home." With that, the cats vanished in another flourish of ice and fire, light and dark, their words lingering in the children's minds.

Sweetie Belle nodded, and turned to the door with her friends. They trotted to it and opened it, unsure of what to expect. Not a word was exchanged between them, for they did not know what to say as the door came to a standstill in the middle of the hall.

The Crusaders looked in said hall, beholding a grim procession. Anna Windwood was trotting down the hall at a sedate pace, Sarah and Maria at her side, looking confused as they went with her. In her magical glow, she held two small bouquets, a blue and a pink, with each flower wilted and dead in the carefully-wrapped masses. Behind them trotted Pinkie Pie, mane and tail flat and holding a small basket in her mouth filled with six candles, a few cupcakes, and a box of matches. Every soldier in the vicinity watched them go, holding hats to their chests and eyes shining with an unmistakable sorrow in them.

Among the soldiers was Blue Crow and his group, frowns adorning their beaks. The Crusaders approached him, and he turned to them with a heavy sigh. He motioned for them to wait until the Lieutenant-General and her group were out of earshot before daring to speak. "... you know few, if any, visit the Graveyard of the Forgotten," he said. He turned to where Anna had tromped off. "... but every year, on a day that should have been special, she does…"

Red Barrel spoke next, head hanging low. "... before this year, she always did her visits alone. Spends the night there, too. She… she tries to make up for ignoring it the rest of the year…" A tear streaked her feathers, trailing a lonesome march down to her beak to hang at the edge of her upper mandible. "It still eats away at her… no matter what she does, she can't bury the pain tonight."

Apple Bloom knew right away what she was talking about. Yet, she couldn't muster the strength to speak. Her friends couldn't, either, and all of them were scarcely able to imagine the particular pain Anna was going through. It wasn't merely because they still had their formative years ahead of them yet, but rather… it was due to a painful lack of a particularly jaded perspective, gained only through horrific tragedy that their families and Equestria at large tried to keep them from even hearing about.

A tragedy that, quite sadly, seemed to be horrifically common on Fantasia, even if it played out in different forms.

Golden Chalice shook her head, looking to where her superior had gone. "They… they were born on the day she completed her healing," she said bitterly. "Part of why she… climbed the ranks so quickly, I would assume—to never be left in a position where she had no control…"

Rose Windmill had her eyes closed and her hat clutched particularly tightly. She didn't speak, only shook her head bitterly for a moment before swallowing. "I… was supposed to adopt 'em out," she muttered, her raised claw shaking. "Supposed to give 'em a good home… but they didn't come out alive…" Her claw started forming indents in her hat. "Something… something went wrong during the birth… like… like they got stuck and died before they were pulled out…"

Apple Bloom turned to where Anna had gone, eyes glistening. "... and she can't let go," she surmised. Out of the corner of her eye, Blue Crow nodded somberly.

"Do… do you think Godcat took them away?" Sweetie asked, struggling to envision a scenario where a cruel goddess had cast the innocent down to Tartarus for torment.

"Godcat was sealed when they died… so I couldn't tell you," Red Barrel replied, keeping her beak low.

Scootaloo narrowed her eyes. "Who did it to her?!" she yelled, turning to the wingless quartet with anger flashing across her irises. "Do you know who hurt her?!"

Blue Crow shook his head. "Unfortunately, we do not… and we may never know. The most we can say is Greenwood had something to do with it," he replied. He lifted a single digit off of his hat and used it to point to where Anna had gone. "If you wish to see the procession in full, follow the wilted petals. She always takes a specific path each time, so it shouldn't be hard to miss."

Apple Bloom nodded, and moved to start following the trail. A few petals had drifted down, and they crunched under her hooves like tiny autumn leaves that left a sickening pit in her stomach. Her friends followed her, determined to get answers, and their source had already gotten a head start on them. They trotted on, slowly enough to avoid halting their quarry, but fast enough to keep pace with her slowed gait. A few soldiers quietly wept as they trotted past, being comforted by a stray hoof or tightly-gripping claw, which only caused the pit in the trio's stomachs to both widen and deepen as they heard the hushed crying.

They came upon two halls, and found the left one blocked off by a wall of soldiers. They took the one on the right, more withered petals crunching beneath their hooves as they trotted. Apple Bloom glanced at her friends. "I don't think… we can take pictures of the graves," she said sternly. "If'n Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon find out about this, they'll just make fun of Anna."

Scootaloo nodded, swallowing a lump. While foals bullying adults was unheard of where they came from, it was still a possibility that their arch-enemies might strike the low blow to end all low blows if word of this ever got out in Equestria. Furthermore, it wasn't a matter of sparing both parties the embarrassment, but rather keeping one party alive so the other wouldn't get in trouble if they ever came to loggerheads. Sweetie nodded as well, and onwards they marched, eyes forming budding tears that they held in even as their stomachs threatened a revolt.

Rounding a corner, they saw that the procession briefly halted. A little changeling grub had nuzzled in Anna's mane, and it wasn't hissing, but rather, trilling as it shed tears. A soldier strode forward to lift the grub out of her hair, and pulled back to the protestations of the little one, who waved its tiny legs at Anna and sniffled. She patted the grub gently with a claw, then moved onwards with her group. They couldn't see her face through her mane when she had turned to pat the little changeling, but did see the tight frown adorning her muzzle in the few seconds that she had stopped.

They followed, halting briefly as the group boarded a lift up ahead. Anna turned to the three and jerked her head in the lift, and hesitantly, the trio trotted forward to cram themselves inside. It was a bit of a tight space, but the adults were willing to compensate for that by standing on their hinds to make it manageable.

Silence reigned as the lift doors closed, and the lift shook to start its descent. Apple Bloom looked up, trying to gauge Anna's expression, but she kept her gaze pointed towards the doors, her face almost shadowed by her hair. She wasn't the only one looking towards the Lieutenant-General; Sarah turned to her sister as well, frowning as she, too, tried to get a read on her emotions.

In fact, the silence continued to reign after the lift hit the bottom floor, and opened its doors to let them stride into a shapeshifting part of the mountain, again lined by soldiers regarding them with pity and sorrow. Anna took the lead, striding out on her hinds at first before reverting to all fours once her legs had the room to do so. Pinkie, Sarah, and Maria flanked her, followed by the Crusaders, who couldn't help but notice the lack of illuminating moss in this part of the mountain. Crystals didn't stud the place either, leaving only the flickering array of lights produced by the soldiers' horns to guide the way forward.

Gradually, as they made their way through the tunnels, the lines of soldiers thinned, at first with only a few gaps across every couple of heads before it widened. Through the winding tunnels, down into the mountain, the procession went, trailing withered petals in its solemn path, the ranks continuing to thin out until the only lights to be seen were the ones stationed at the ends of lengthy tunnels, seeming to dim as they approached.

Minutes passed through the march, but it felt like hours, then days, and then weeks as they made the trek through the mountain, boarding lifts and following the lights that marked their path. The Crusaders weren't sure how long it lasted, and were unwilling to speak, even as they came upon the soldiers who had sunk airships with their loose lips, blocking the way forward. They saw their superior, then stepped aside to let her pass, wordlessly taking out papers to document her passing. They halted the children, however, and frowned. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" the gold soldier asked.

"Well… Anna invited us to come with her," Apple Bloom replied. "And… we don't know why."

The soldiers shared glances, then sighed. "Well… you sure you want to see the Graveyard of the Forgotten?" they asked in unison. Upon receiving nods, they parted to let the children pass, documenting their visit as they did so.

A winding path led them downwards, from the top of a massive room that was twice the size of the factory and almost pitch-black otherwise. The path stayed to the edges of the room, somewhat narrow, but not narrow enough to force them to walk single file, adorned with torches lit with eerily pale blue flames. The ceiling looked to be made of the same shapeshifting stone as much of the hive, and yet for some reason, it lacked holes in its rocky surface. It lacked moss as well, preferring darkness over light. Anna halted again, and turned to the children behind her. Her face was difficult to read through her mane. "You can… you can halt here if you want," she said.

Sweetie Belle shook her head. "No. We… we want to see the Lonesome March in full," she replied. "It's… important; not a holiday, but important."

Scootaloo stomped a hoof. "We want to make sure the dead here really are resting," she agreed, her voice tight. "A pair… a pair of floating cats told us to watch, and I don't want to know what happens if we don't obey their command."

Apple Bloom's bow wilted alongside her ears. "Even… even the forgotten deserve friends," she said bitterly. "Even if'n they're gone… they need to know somepony cares. They need to know that… their… their awful circumstances won't ever happen again."

Anna nodded, and turned away to resume the March. Down the winding, silent path the procession went, and as petals crunched under their hooves again, the Crusaders looked to the bottom of the room, though it was kinda hard to see from that high up. The most they could make out were dim lights swimming in a sea of darkness, so they had no choice but to see the path through if they were to see what lay at its end. Behind them, barely noticed by the three, the torches snuffed themselves out to plunge the winding trail in darkness.

"Mommy? Why are the torches going out?" Maria asked.

"... they do this every year. That means the Lonesome March is almost over," Anna answered as they came to the bottom of the winding path, the last torch marking the trail snuffing itself out with the group's passing. "We better hurry…"

Beneath the winding path was a desolate place, marked by tunnels at the far ends of the walls and many graves, all spread out across plots of land and a few square miles to themselves. Each was topped by an impossibly smooth statue of a once-living creature, having been crafted of stone and all looking to the rocky ceiling blocking the sky. Tears trailed from the eyes of almost every statue, and almost all of them had been marked with a solemn, glowing halo hewn of moss on their heads. Many had broken horns, others had broken wings, a few sat down on their haunches because their front legs didn't work right anymore, and so on. Each face screamed to the uncaring heavens, twisted in sorrow and rage, with the urns of the deceased beset into the statues' bases and marked with simple plaques if their bodies had been recovered.

The first one they passed featured a young child about their age, a cutie mark carved into his haunch and marked with a blood red X scoring its surface, and a plaque bearing the words, "Unknown colt, body never found, killed during Catastrophe." The second featured a filly, holding the tattered remains of a stuffed friend in her forelegs, equally as forlorn. "Unknown filly and her plush friend, bodies never found, killed during Catastrophe," her plaque read.

"How are the statues so smooth? Don't you have to sand them down real good?" Apple Bloom asked.

"The Graveyard of the Forgotten… it has a special magic that imprints itself on those who were here, then makes new graves for the fallen using their memories, without aid… and the stone is always this smooth when it finishes," Anna answered with a tight voice. "For all we know… it could be imprinting into your memories right now, and… we wouldn't know until next week, potentially…"

Apple Bloom winced. "You mean…" she trailed off.

Anna nodded but once. "Though, it might not," she said. "As far as we know… it only does this for ponies few even know the existence of, and care about…"

Apple Bloom dared not breathe a sigh of relief at that. If the Graveyard was magical, then maybe it was best to get the Lonesome March over with as soon as possible. The Lieutenant-General seemed to agree, and began to trot.

Through the desolate place, Anna marched, the bouquets holding few petals at this point. She passed by statues of cruel adults holding knives in their mouths, their flanks mutilated and burned, each with wicked sneers on their faces. Instead of halos, and tears framing their eyes, they had dried, dead moss spattered on their faces, hooves and weapons, reminiscent of blood. "Cruel adult stallion, body never found, killed during Catastrophe," their plaques read. As they passed, the Crusaders couldn't help but think that the statues of the markless adults were glaring at them.

Each statue they passed, they couldn't help but think of the lives these ponies could have lead, if things had been different on Fantasia—lives full of joy never lived, talents never discovered, friends never made, happiness never endured, all because ponies on this world hated cutie marks outside of areas like the Aerie. All because whatever malcontents of the past wanted to damn the present, for some sick measure of control that they didn't deserve. All because they wanted ponies to suffer for sins real and perceived, which might have been warranted long ago, but did not deserve to rest on their descendants' withers now.

Even the cruel adults, the ones with scarred flanks and blood on their faces and hooves, they quickly found themselves feeling sorry for, for they were those who never had a choice in the matter. They had probably been reared up to believe cutie marks were evil incarnate, and had the choice of destiny wrenched from their hooves, solidifying them into bloodthirsty adults who inflicted bloodshed and despair in order to make themselves feel better.

A cruel fate if they had ever dreamed of such.

A cruel fate they couldn't possibly dare to dream of, even in their worst nightmares.

They passed by a statue of a colt with a bow and arrow, his cutie mark defiled by a red X scored over its surface. His eyes were shut tight, fear etched permanently on his statue's face, and as the Crusaders looked, fresh tears poured from his eyes to drip silently onto the base of his grave. They looked around; each statue of a foal with an X-marked cutie mark had candles, plush friends, and moss decorating the bases of their graves, and mossy wings spread from their backsides that highlighted their pain and fear. Many of the adult graves had none of that, for their wicked expressions gave away whatever ill intent they had when they were on the mortal coil.

They came upon more statues, these ones of markless hippogryph foals, each adorned with still-lit candles and with the feathers plucked off of their hides. The first hippogryph's plaque read, "Unknown hippogryph chick, killed by Frostbite Haven village community, body never recovered." Anna had halted at that one, and Maria turned to the statue, her face twisting in sorrow as she approached.

Maria ran a claw against the base of the statue, eyes alit with… recognition and pain. "My first friend, in the bad place…" she muttered. "Taken away by bad hippogryphs…" She turned to Anna. "Is he up there with the creator cat, mommy?"

Anna turned away, and she didn't answer. Sarah opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and turned away. Maria's eyes glistened as she caught on to their lack of a reply. "But if they're not with the creator cat… are they with…" she trailed off, horror flashing in her eyes.

Anna shook her head. "No. They're… they're with Godcat," she said softly. "They're in a new world now, away from… away from here."

Maria's raised claw trembled. "Will… will they come back?" she asked.

"Not… not until things are better," Anna replied, her voice trembling. "If… if they even want to come back at all." She continued to march, and hesitantly, the others followed, with Maria casting one last look at her fallen friend before rejoining the group. Every statue of a hippogryph foal they passed had Maria turning to look at them, tears beginning to fall from her eyes as she found deceased friend after deceased friend, each face terrifyingly lifelike in what must have been their last moments spent on Fantasia.

Sweetie Belle looked at Maria, comprehension dawning. This was why she was accompanying Anna—to see her old friends one last time, even if their bodies weren't able to have been given funerary rights. Some part of her wanted to know the circumstances of how she came to the Aerie, but she held her tongue as Maria began to sniffle and whuffle. Losing one's friends didn't sound particularly peachy, and as she looked again to the crying statues, she saw more lives lost that could have been lived, could have obtained their talents, could have made more friends, could have lived to old age if adults outside of the few sane provinces of Fantasia had bothered to care.

There were statues of hippogryph mares, each one bereft of feathers as well, and likewise screaming to the uncaring heavens. Maria halted at a particular one that was joined with a hippogryph stallion, causing the group to halt as well. "Old mommy and daddy… are… are y-you with the creator cat?" Maria wondered, tears trailing down her face as she looked at the statues. Apple Bloom felt a knife stab itself into her soul at the words, and looked at the statues. For a moment it seemed, the statues looked down at them, pity seemingly sparkling in their eyes as they regarded those standing before their grave.

The statues failed to answer. Maria approached them and put a claw on the base of the joined graves. "I-I'm okay, old mommy and daddy… a-away from… from the meanies," Maria said, as if it could somehow placate the deceased hippogryphs the graves were meant for. Silence answered her once more, the only thing the statues could answer with. There was no closure to be had; nothing but pain trying to substitute itself for such.

The statues began to have tears trail down their faces once more, unable to move, but silently weeping. "I-I'm gonna fly one day… see you both in the s-sky again…" Maria said, wings drooping with the proclamation. "And… and if I-I can't…" A pair of candles levitated to the statues, not one from the bundles Pinkie was carrying, and came to rest on the statues' bases before a match struck the stone and lit their wicks.

"It's… to guide them back to the afterlife," Anna said simply. "Every year, on this night… the innocents who've died come here to visit. But they can only weep…." She trotted over to put a claw on Maria's shoulder. "They… they know you're okay."

Maria shakily nodded with a sniffle. "The creator cat knows?" she asked.

"She knows," Anna replied simply. "And… and She permits them to come, until sunrise…" She nudged her daughter. "But… you have to say g-goodbye before we leave the Graveyard."

"But… I want them to stay…" Maria said, frowning as she turned to her adoptive mother. "Why… why do I have to s-say goodbye?"

"... we don't want them to become wraiths," Anna answered, shaking her head. "Otherwise… they won't go b-back to Godcat at all."

Maria hiccuped, and looked at the statues again. "Will… will you watch me f-fly, old mommy and daddy?" she asked, only to once again be met with a cruel tranquility. "... please make it b-back to the creator cat s-safely, old mommy and daddy." The march resumed, and the Crusaders had lumps in their stomachs and throats as they followed the procession. Scootaloo glanced behind herself, and saw a gold light and two blue lights behind her group, lighting their own candles and placing them upon the bases of the cutie marked foals' statues. Distantly, she could hear Matt, Lazarus and Natalie say their own goodbyes to those foals, wishing them safe journeys back to the afterlife.

Past the statues of the hippogryphs were more ponies, a collection of earth and unicorn, albeit with their bodies twisted horribly by wood and vines, and stone trees anchored to their statues adorned with twisted mockeries of their faces. Like the hippogryphs and cruel adults, they too were blank flanks, and they had dried moss spattered across their bodies.

Anna halted at a particular one, of an elderly mare with long, twin braids adorning her head and tattered priestess garb adorning her body. She produced a candle, struck a match, and lit the wick before setting it on the statue's base. "Lana… she was one of the only kind elders of Greenwood… she and her still-living brother got me out of that community…" she muttered, raising a claw to rest it against the statue's base.

"... then why's she here?" Scootaloo asked.

"... she asked that her name be forgotten, as was the fate of those who died in Greenwood, knowing she'd be killed for smuggling me out," Anna replied, shaking her head. "... it didn't feel right that she went graveless… so, she's here…" She looked up to Lana's stone face, recognition shining in her glistening eyes. "... and… she was a good pony. Good ponies… deserve graves."

'She was Anna's friend,' the Crusaders realized. They looked up to Lana's crying visage, and once more, she seemed to be glancing downwards, twisted as her face was by pain. Greenwood even casted aside those who would help the unfortunate flee their situations? "Wh… what happened to her?" Apple Bloom asked quietly.

"... I hid in the bushes and watched her be… be forcibly transformed by the other elderly villagers. She became a cursed tree, and… never once did she raise a hoof against them as they tore her apart. I ran… and later found her rooted in Ashwood that night. She urged me… urged me to go… and I had no choice but to leave her. She… had enough equinity left… to try to warn Sh-Shining Armor away from Greenwood when he came to visit that cursed place, and… she… she perished in the catastrophe that followed," Anna said quietly.

"Shining told me… and… and he asked if… if I…" She looked away from Lana's face, hiccuping as she collected her thoughts. "If… I knew about h-her in particular…" A vine sprouted from the moss halo and traced its way downwards, snaking down Lana's neck, her hooves, then to the base of the grave to touch Anna's claw.

Anna nuzzled the vine, tears streaking down her muzzle to land upon the leaves. "She… didn't deserve to die like she did…" she muttered, her voice wracked with sorrow. "She… got Sarah out three y-years before me, and…"

Sarah came over to touch the grave, letting her claw gently graze Lana's vine. She looked up at the stone face and weakly smiled. "Thank you… for helping us both out. If it weren't for you… we wouldn't have broken the curse over Greenwood," she said, even as tears trailed down her cheeks.

"Goodbye, Lana…" the twins said in unison, parting from the grave. The vine did a little wave, then withered and died, falling out of the moss halo as it peeled off of the statue. It… it felt like a presence had left the statue, as the tears on Lana's stone face dried inexplicably. The march resumed once more, the Crusaders beginning to sniffle as they now understood why the changelings avoided this place in full. These… these weren't merely the castoffs of Fantasian society; save for the cruel adults, many of these graves were creatures that the military could safely say they knew on some level. This wasn't just keeping the memories of the forgotten alive—for even the forgotten had an awful lot to say about Fantasia.

No. This was ensuring that the forgotten did not come back as wraiths. This was making absolutely certain that these gathered fallen had some hope in the afterlife, in whatever world they now resided on.

This… was ensuring a safe journey back to that world. And the more they dwelled on that thought, the tighter the lump grew in the trio's stomachs and throats.

Up ahead, the trio saw Lance standing before a pair of chest-height, joined statuettes, his back turned to the group and his military uniform decidedly not on his body. He was putting plush friends on the graves, and little knitted hats on their heads that didn't obscure their tiny halos. Anna joined him, lit the candles, and put them on the graves along with the withered bouquets. "... happy birthday, Sage and Saffron," Anna said, bringing a claw to rest on the statuettes. "I'm… I'm sorry I wasn't a better mother to you… but… I hope Godcat gives you the life I wasn't able to give you up there."

"Those bastards of Greenwood… they…?!" Sarah began, comprehension dawning as her eyes darted from the statuettes, to her sister, and back again.

Anna nodded somberly. "Twice… the first time was a miscarriage," she answered simply. "I never made it past five months into that pregnancy."

Sarah clenched her claws, then relaxed them as she drew in a deep, shuddering breath and briefly closed her eyes. "... at least they can't hurt anyone anymore," she said, garnering a nod of agreement from her sister. She approached the statuettes, and put a claw to them, looking at the tiny faces with the little hats. Rather than scream to the sky, their expressions were… peaceful, as though they had never been introduced to the mere concept of pain. Blissfully sleeping, even, despite their seeming awareness. "... hey," she said, leaning in to nuzzle the statuettes. "I guess this is the first time we've met… I wish it was under better circumstances. You two… you're kinda cute."

Sarah pulled away, sighing sadly. "... you know, Fantasia's not good enough for both of you right now. You should head back to Godcat…" she muttered. "But before you do…" She turned to Maria, and beckoned her over. "Say hello to your big sister."

Maria came over, and reared up on her hooves so she could see the statuettes in full. "... h-hi," Maria said, wings wilting as she regarded the little ones. "D-do… do you like the creator cat? Is She nice to you?"

"Godcat… is nice to all children who wind up in Her domain," Lance said gently. "Feline, pony, hippogryph… race doesn't matter in Her house. She raises them all with love and care." He turned to the little ones. "... but… it's nice to see you two visit, even if only for a little bit."

Pinkie strode forward, and put the cupcakes on the graves. "I… I hope you guys like these," she said, nudging the cupcakes to the statuettes. The candles floated off of the graves for a bit, aided by Anna's magic, and were studded into the frosting. " I didn't know what flavor you would've liked, so I… I went for a mixed swirl. You have surprises in there, too. Every foal should have sweets and surprises… on their birthday." With that, she stepped away to let the Fantasians finish paying their respects.

"Goodbye…" the four Fantasians said in unison, parting from the statuettes. Tears streaked the tiny stone faces before drying, accompanied by the distant, echoing sound of infants giggling. As their presence left, the candles that had adorned their graves—birthday candles, the Crusaders realized—blew out, and their wishes wafted up to the ceiling in the form of the smoke left behind to guide them back home. The cupcakes had moss overtake them for a bit, before the moss parted to reveal they were no longer there. The moss did the same with the hats and plush friends, almost… almost as though Godcat had permitted the gifts to come to the afterlife with them.

Anna turned to the Crusaders, trotted to them, and scooped them into another hug that they reciprocated. They whuffled in unison, wondering what lives could have been lived by these ponies, had circumstances not been as horrid as they were. Hoofsteps approached, and the four parted to find Matt and his small group, each with fresh tears adorning their own faces. "We… we said our goodbyes…" Matt said quietly. "... they took their plush friends with them."

He glanced upwards at the ceiling, and it opened holes that went all the way to the ground outside, spilling moonlight into the cemetery and allowing the smoke from burnt-out candles to guide the dead back to the afterlife. With a flourish, he, Natalie, and Lazarus lit their horns to send lights up to the ceiling along with the wafting smoke. Anna followed in turn, and together the lights guided the leaving presences as the moonlight slowly turned from silver to orange, indicating a sunrise.

When their lights dimmed as the orange fully overtook the silver, silence settled in the Graveyard of the Forgotten, leaving those who had deigned fit to pay their respects alone with their own thoughts. As soon as the last bits of smoke left the Graveyard, the holes that had allowed their parting closed, plunging the area into darkness, studded by the dim lights of moss halos and moss wings. Anna lit her horn, and teleported the entire group back to the guest rooms. The soldiers had dispersed, heading back to their bunkers and posts, leaving them alone.

A door opened a few paces away, and Applejack strode out. She looked like she had spent the night crying, with red, puffy eyes and a tired face. She pulled Apple Bloom into a hug. "Ma and Pa… they left just a lil' bit ago," she said. "Asked how ya were doin'..."

Apple Bloom whuffled. "Wha… what did they say?" she asked.

"Wanted to know if ya got yer cutie mark yet… I told 'em the truth. And… before they left, told me to tell ya they're mighty proud… and they love you," Applejack replied, ruffling her sister's mane as she broke down sobbing. She held her younger sister tightly, trying not to cry anymore for her sake, only to shed a few tears with her effort. Apple Bloom was hugged by her best friends, each of them also breaking down crying as pain they couldn't possibly imagine lingered in their hearts and minds, trying to seek whatever comfort they could.

Pinkie turned to Anna as Applejack shepherded the Crusaders to bed. "... at least the foals didn't suffer from pain," she said quietly, garnering a weak and silent nod in response. "It's… it's better they're with Godcat than here, suffering. At least Godcat will give them the love they deserve."

"I'm not sure I could live with myself if they had been suffering…" Anna muttered, sniffling. Pinkie put a hoof to her withers, and pulled her into a hug.

"... help me babysit the Cake twins once the barrier business is over?" Pinkie offered. "It… might help." Anna weakly nodded again, and reciprocated the hug, before she too broke down crying and buried her head in Pinkie's neck. It was a while before she and her group were escorted to bed themselves, and it would be relatively late in the morning before anyone got up for breakfast.