...however faint it might be.
An aged lighthouse stood sturdily, everlastingly in the distance. The freezing gale rushed forth across the plains, bending trees and grass to its will. The lighthouse remained, despite the wind’s fury, like a lone rock mountain in the middle of an ocean, oblivious to its tides. The bending grass before them revealed a dirt road leading unopposed to the tower’s doors.
The stallion smiled a tired smile. The Mare before him reciprocated in such. He could see the wind gently caressing Her bright red mane and ruffling Her feathers. “There’s an ember in that lighthouse. I need you to gather wood, and build a fire for that ember. To guard the light that follows. Do you believe you’ll be able to?”
The cold bit into his skin, but he didn’t mind. His treacherous body shivered as each strand of his dirty brown coat stood on end. Her horn lit up in a ruby aura, raising the temperature around him and calming his shaking hooves. “As if I could ever deny you,” he said, his gaze meeting Her own for the slightest moment.
She smiled yet again at first, but the smile withered and died, placing a lead boulder upon his heart. “It isn’t an easy task, nor a rewarding one. You’ll face times when your hope might wither away. But there’ll be a place for happiness too, and I promise you’ll find peace in the end.”
The stallion took a long, tired sigh. “I’ve been waiting for a long time. I can wait some more.” Yet Her enrapturing eyes required confirmation, as if not enough had been said. “I’ll do it.”
She sighed too, and decided to comfort his tired heart with a smile. A motherly aura radiated off Her. The stallion felt as if merely Her words could heal any ache he had come to Her with. “Thank you. I cannot express my gratitude, my little pony,” She soothed in Her sweet voice. If not the words, then the thankful whispers cured him.
Her pristine white forelegs wrapped around him in a soothing embrace, perhaps comforting him for what has already happened, for what he had lost. Perhaps She knew what was to come, and pitied him already. She pulled back eventually, looking into his eyes. “I both pity and envy you at once. Be strong and keep the flame burning until the time comes.”
He nodded, lost in thought, somewhat scared, doubtful. She turned to walk away. Her bright blue eyes graced him with one final look before disappearing behind the white eyelids. With a flash of her horn and a bright light, she was gone.
He opened the door to the old lighthouse and stepped in before closing it tightly behind him. The cold ache within his heart was far too old and fierce to be melted by an earthly fire. He could try, though.
As he finished building a big enough pile of wood and setting the mirrors, he took a seemingly dying ember and placed it in the centre. The flame shot high, illuminating the room and guiding the way for all those who would be lost in this world. The stallion sat down, dancing flames enrapturing him, and closed his eyes. The warmth soothed his dreams.
---
The stallion awoke beside the warmth of the fire. Days had turned to months, and months into years. Each day seemed routine and unchanging. The stallion visited the forest and gathered food, planting unusable seeds to even his trade with the nature. He believed the feral beasts would leave him to his devices if he paid back his debts.
If only one year or many had passed, he couldn’t say. Had he tried to keep count, he would most surely have lost track, or merely forgotten. To his surprise, the fire burned as strongly as it did the day he lit it without receiving more fuel.
Warm rays of the evening sun shone through the windows, accompanying the flickering flames lighting the room. A knock on the door to the outside echoed through the lighthouse. The stallion got up and carefully made his way down the stairs, curious about any visitors, especially where he lived. Upon opening the door, he saw two young fillies standing before him, examining him with their big, curious eyes.
The older, one of pristine white, yet somewhat ragged coat, curtly cleared her throat. “Um, sir, we might be lost. Would you show us a way to the castle?”
“A shelter from the cold is what we need,” said the younger one, adorned with a coat of darker blue, curiously peeking out from behind her lighter mane. “The night’s coming and the wolves’ll eat us if we head back into the forest.”
“But Mom said not to go into ponies’ homes without their permission!” the older one called out, but the younger filly had already wriggled her way into the gap between the stallion and the door.
“I am really sorry for her. She tends to be like that at times, even though she’s terribly smart for her age,” the older filly said before shooting off after her sister.
The stallion realised he became a host for two young fillies without uttering so much as a word.
“Oh my, there’s a long staircase upward. I wonder where might it lead,” the younger filly said, already on her way upstairs.
The older one hesitated a second. “Thank you for your hospitality, kind sir. I don’t think we would’ve survived out there on our own when the night is still dark and feral beasts howl to the moon.”
The stallion smiled kindly at her gratitude. “I wouldn’t have left you alone out there, would I? It’s not even close to the comfort of a castle, but make yourself at home.”
The white filly beamed with a radiant smile and a nod. “We will, and–”
“What a huge fire!” a shout came from the upstairs. Both the older filly and the stallion hurried upwards. They found the younger one standing at the railing of the balcony, the glass door behind her open wide, cold air seeping into the room.
“Sorry for shooting off like that, but I have to raise the moon for the night,” said the filly with a sheepish smile on her lips.
“Wait! Let me lower the sun for you!” shouted the older filly before jumping next to her younger counterpart, creating a curious contrast – both in color and age – with her. They closed their eyes and lit their horns in unison.
The stallion could see the difference in their expressions, though. As the older one sighed in relief, the younger one struggled a bit with her eyes shut. The display in the sky indicated they weren’t lying. The sun swiftly moved down the horizon as the moon rose above it. The stars were lit one-by-one, transferring a dark, fearful night into a beautiful, tranquil one.
“Good job, sister. I love the way they twinkle.” The older filly pointed at the stars.
Were these two gods, that the skies themselves obeyed them? the stallion thought.
“Thanks. Your day was really nice too.” The younger filly closed the door behind herself and settled with her friend beside the fire.
The younger filly gave a disarming smile, deciding to spark a conversation. “I raise the moon and stars and my sis’ raises the sun.”
The older filly nodded vigorously. “And we are princesses, but the regent rules for now until we are old enough to do it ourselves.” The stallion had nothing to say, and so he kept quiet, content to listen to the excited chatter of the fillies.
“We even have our own castle,” the younger one added vigorously. “And guards too.”
“But who are you, if we might ask?” asked the older one. The fillies regarded the stallion with both curious and expectant gazes.
Who was he? A stallion, a pony surely, but what else? “I’m the lighthouse keeper. My task is to preserve this fire for as long as possible.” He nodded at the great flames before them.
As the older filly seemed content with that answer, her sister’s eyes darted to his cutie mark to confirm the truthfulness of his statements. “But you have a pine tree for your cutie mark. Wouldn’t that match a forester, or a woodcutter?” The older filly berated her sister with a stare.
The stallion chuckled at the filly’s curiosity, and admired her wits. “You are partially right. I used to be a forester years ago. Not anymore, though.” Now he had a different task, perhaps a more meaningful one.
The stallion took the moment of silence as a slight relief. These two fillies resting under his modest roof were royalty, if not goddesses. Were they Her children? “Pray tell, who are your parents?”
The older filly shook her head. “Our mother is a unicorn. Our father...” Her sister curled up beside her, staring at the fire with an empty gaze, as if trying her best not to listen. “Our father was a pegasus.” She blinked away the tears in her eyes, making the stallion guilty for bringing such topic forth.
“So, you’re princesses, right? Do you have any, um, royal duties?” The words felt futile, but his mind wouldn’t conjure up anything negligible to break the seemingly dark topic of the fillies’ parents.
What the stallion didn’t predict, was the younger filly’s reaction. She tore away from her sister’s comforting embrace and stood up, undirected rage in her eyes. “They think we’re some kind of goddesses! They come to us for advice on things we have no idea about! They want us to rule the nation when we’re barely a few years old! We just want to be normal fillies for stars’ sake!”
The younger filly lay down, her anger vented. She covered her eyes, and let sobs shake her body. The stallion stepped to her side and put an arm over her shoulder. The older filly did the same with a wing, trying her best to comfort her weeping sister.
The younger filly eventually cried herself to sleep, and her sister drifted off soon after. The fillies seemed too tranquil to be moved into the bed, so the stallion simply covered them with a spare blanket. He then trotted downstairs to his bedroom to both give the fillies privacy and get a bit of rest.
The morning found him in bed, as the first rays of sunshine pierced his eyelids. He ran his hoof through his mane quickly, as he cared not for appearance. His steps then carried him upstairs, where the familiar great fire and less familiar pair of fillies rested. A smile stretched his weary features as he watched their chests rise and fall in synchronised breaths.
The older filly peeked one eyelid open to gaze at her host. “I had to rise the sun in the morning, but it’s too comfortable here. I hope you won’t mind if we stay a little longer.”
“Take all the time you need, I rarely have company.” The stallion once again smiled warmly.
The older filly then settled her head on the neck of her sister before closing her eyes in a futile attempt to take back lost comfort of a dream. Hopefully it had been a pleasant one. The stallion moved downstairs to prepare a simple breakfast. He didn’t know whether the leaves of salad and whatever flowers he had in his garden would suffice the royalty, but he made a bigger portion nonetheless.
The sweet scent of fresh tea lingered pleasantly in the air, and drove a curious pair of late-sleepers downstairs. “I’ve made a some extra for you, if you’re hungry,” he said before taking a sip of his warm tea.
The older sister looked a bit embarrassed. “We couldn’t! I believe we’ve taken advantage of your generosity a bit too much and–“ Her stomach audibly voiced its point, negating her words.
“Oh, come on, it’d be rude of us to refuse,” said the younger filly carelessly before digging into the meal, the cause of her earlier distress forgotten. She then swallowed, mumbled a “thank you” and went back to eating.
The older filly also offered a curt nod of gratitude and a shy smile. At first her eyes scanned the surroundings. “I’m sorry. I don’t own any silverware, I’m an earth pony.” The stallion looked at her apologetically.
The older sister waved her hoof dismissively. “Not a problem, our teachers simply forced us to get used to eating with forks and spoons. It’s rude to eat that way while sharing meal with earth ponies anyway, a cruel way to show a unicorns’ ‘superiority’.” She then nibbled the salad piece-by-piece, careful not to stain her coat.
The stallion noted it was a futile effort. Her coat wasn’t as pristine as it seemed on the first fleeting glance. He noticed several twigs stuck in it, and the slightly stained fur on her hooves. Even though the filly tried to hide it, both her and her sister were on a long journey.
“You weren’t simply playing in that forest, were you?” The stallion measured them with a suspicious gaze with the intent to see the truth in their eyes.
They weren’t intending to hide it, though. “Well, we saw the pointlessness of keeping us at the court if we weren’t meant to rule,” the older filly remarked politely.
“So we ran,” finished the younger sister, her voice sharper, more confident. “Why would we stay there anyway? They wanted us to be somepony we weren’t, and we proved them wrong.”
“Why are you sure you wouldn’t make for good rulers?” That left the fillies silent for a while. They were genuinely surprised at the tone of the stallion’s words, even though his voice was simply curious.
“We don’t know anything they expect us to. We can’t predict the future. How can we be judges of their fates if we can’t even tell our own?” explained the older filly, to which her sister nodded.
“Do you think every judgement made by kings and queens in history was right? Do you think any of them were all-knowing? I can tell you – they weren’t. You don’t have to be a soothsayer to predict a war with your greatest foe, but it takes a real wizard to prevent one.” He took a breath, the fillies listened, enraptured.
“You two could learn diplomacy, economy, and law, I’m sure.” He turned to the older sister. “I’m a common pony, but even I can tell you’d make a great leader.” Then he turned to the younger. “Your sensibility will allow you to see the distresses of your subjects and aid them when they need it. I think you’d make great queens.”
Two sets of wide eyes were focused on the stallion intently, but still the disbelief lingered in their gaze.“They think we’re gods, but we aren’t. Moving the sun or the moon doesn’t make you a god. It just makes you a pony who moves the sun or moon,” countered the younger filly.
The stallion sighed. “That doesn’t matter in the end. Let them pray to you, see you as their saviours. The nation will love you all the more, and each of your decisions will be taken as the right ones. Sometimes our destiny is not achieved, but thrust upon us, and we have to live it the best we can.”
He hoped against all odds that these two lost fillies would turn away from the hard path they had taken, even though it was not his decision to make.
“Our destiny,” whispered the older filly, looking at her and her sister’s cutie marks. “It is our destiny. We can’t leave our subjects alone. Why didn’t we see that in the first place?”
“Are we the right ones? What if we aren’t? I don’t want to hurt them,” the younger said quietly, the plate before her licked clean, and a cup of tea gently nurtured in her hooves.
“There is only one way to find out, and that is by going back to the castle,” the stallion stated confidently and honestly.
The older filly looked her sister in the eye. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
The younger filly took a sip. “That this tea is really good?” Her older sister shook her head and groaned.
“No, that we have to go back to the castle, and make things right.” Her younger sister looked at her skeptically.
“But this tea is good. Besides, I know we have to do it eventually, but Mom will be very angry that we ran.” She took another sip, hugging the warm mug to her chest. “Maybe we could stay just a little while to reconsider.” She directed a pleading stare at her sister.
The stallion wondered whether he would’ve stayed sane, were that pleading, wide-eyed stare directed at him. The older sister’s expression, though, was unyielding. “No, sis’, we’ve been staying here for too long.” She turned to the stallion. “No offence sir, but I think it’s time we head home.”
“None taken.” He smiled a warm smile yet again. “You can take all the time you wish, though.”
When the older filly turned to her sister, she found her muzzle about to be torn up by an enormous grin. “Fine, but only for a few hours.” The grin still persisted. The older filly once again turned to the stallion. “Could you please make her a bit more of that tea?” A few nods from her sister confirmed that was what she wanted.
“Of course. Make yourselves at home.” As the older filly trotted upstairs, the younger one decided to intently observe every movement the stallion made while brewing the divine liquid. She asked for the name of every herb, which piece of plant was edible, and even counted the seconds the tea boiled. The stallion was certain she remembered every little bit of information.
The filly clasped her mug as if it were a great prize, and trotted upstairs, careful not to spill even a drop of the divine tea. She settled by the cosy side of her sister, and kept silent. Only regular, quiet sips indicated her presence, as she stared into the enrapturing dance of the fire. The stallion took a silent, caring look at the fillies before settling down himself.
The rest of the morning the trio spent in comfortable silence. The older filly occasionally shot the stallion a grateful look, and her sister once again thanked for the gorgeous tea. “Thanks for lowering the stars and the moon for me,” whispered the younger filly to her sister.
“It was nothing. I think we should head out now.” She stood up and made her way downstairs, her sister and their host in her wake. “Thank you once again, for everything.”
The lighthouse keeper shook his head. “It was nothing. I think it’s some part of my own destiny, to guide the way for all those who would be lost here. I can’t leave you like that, though. Not in the forest full of wolves and the like. I’ll go with you as far as I can.”
The older filly nodded with a pleasant smile. “Every additional pair of hooves is welcome.”
The younger filly groaned. “Can we be on our way now? The longer we slack, the less sunshine we’ll have for our road.” She made her way outside, and so did her sister. The stallion followed soon after with a saddlebag of his own supplies.
In a minute, they were out of the clearing the lighthouse stood on, and were making their way through the forest. No wolves had found them, and nothing else interrupted their way beside treacherous twigs and bushes.
“It’s the castle! I can’t believe we were so close!” shouted the older filly. She galloped forward, and so did her sister. The fillies disappeared from the stallion’s sight in the matter of seconds.
Though when he looked forth, he could spot no castle on the horizon. Was his mind playing tricks on him? The fillies looked real, they felt real, but were they real? The answer he never knew, as calling out into the forest yielded no result. He gave up and returned to his lighthouse to rest.
Maybe one day he would know whether these two fillies were lost souls seeking his guidance, or mere shadows of his old, tattered mind.
---
Perhaps guarding the fire wasn’t the point of his work as the lighthouse keeper. He took it as his duty to guide all those who would ever visit him, whether they were real, or just figments of his imagination. But could he guide them? Was he a pony wise enough to guide those greater than him? Perhaps the voice of an old woodcutter was better than silence.
With that thought he rose from his spot before the great fire as another knock sounded from the door downstairs.
He had still remembered the fillies he had met before, even though much time had passed. The knocks weren’t as harsh and confident as this one. Were they grown-up now? Maybe it was somepony completely different?
As he trotted down the stairs, another set of pounds shook the door. “Lunar Rebellion! Open the door!” a feminine shout was heard from the outside. He finally hesitated before the door, afraid of harm from the intruder. He opened, seeing the pony before him in full grace.
She wore full armour, a dark purple set he didn’t recognize. Her appearance was quite unusual too: she had wings of a bat and eyes shining strange, dulled yellow. She looked a good few years – if not decades – younger than him. He wondered whether the glint in her eyes bore anger, or pain hidden deep within.
“I’m commandeering this lighthouse in the name of the Lunar Rebellion,” she said confidently and harshly. “Provide me with your supplies and any weaponry you have.” She stepped past him into the room.
The stallion sighed. “The kitchen is that way.” He pointed at the room in question. “I would be just as happy to be your host had you simply asked.”
The mare glared at him in anger. “Shut up, civilian. You should be happy I’m not throwing you out.” She then moved upstairs, presumably to survey the surroundings.
The stallion sighed once again before moving to the kitchen. He mixed the ingredients for his trademark tea in hope to melt the ice with the rough mare he was now forced to share his home with. Whether that would work in his favour or not, at least she would enjoy the drink.
He found the mare slightly different than before. As her guard dropped, she sat down at the railing of the tower’s balcony and forlornly stared at the horizon, hopelessness written in her rough features.
He settled down a considerate distance from the mare. As she was broken out of her reverie, she once again regarded the stallion with a glare. “What do you want?” she asked with her artificially harsh voice. The stallion offered her the warm mug with a kind smile. “If it’s poisoned, I swear I’ll cut your throat in my final breath.” He kept his smile warm despite her words.
The mare finally accepted the mug, taking a sip of the warm liquid. The stallion did the same from the mug he brought for himself, and the hot tea helped him alleviate the coldness of the night. As the mare’s features softened a bit, he knew it had the same effect on her.
“What is this place?” she asked, her softer way of speaking almost made him jump.
“I don’t know. I’ve been living here for so long, I don’t know which way to Equestria anymore.” Truth be told, he’d never known. The mare sighed, but kept silent. His heart ached as he saw her slumping to the floor, any signs of composure forgotten. As he expected, though, she kept silent.
“I haven’t always been a lighthouse keeper, you know.” She looked at him for a second before resuming her forlorn stare at the horizon. “I used to be a woodcutter.” The stallion tapped his flank and the cutie mark on it.
The mare stared silently for a while before the she grabbed the conversation as a sinking pony would grab a blade to save himself. She turned to her host. “How did it change?”
“My wife was a nurse, she worked on the country-wide plague. She had a wonderful smile, you know, and a twitch in her left ear every time she was curious about something.” He let out a dreamy sigh, and smiled.
“She was so full of energy and life, but the plague took its toll on her. She was forced to work day and night, having been stationed in one of the centres of the epidemic.” His tone fell from the dreamy skies, to step heavily on the solid ground. His cheerful smile darkened, withered into a frown. “She had little chance when the plague finally decided to take her.”
“And you’d lost your way, your sole reason for living. That’s when you found yourself here,” the mare said quietly, predicting his own words. The stallion looked at her, sudden surprise slightly dominating the resurfaced pain in his heart. He nodded.
“It’s true, I was led here just then. How did you know?” he asked.
“Because more or less, that’s how my story sounds. I received the news of my mother dying while I was on the front. Then the word of our war’s defeat. My squad was one of the very few who refused to stop fighting, even though there was little to fight for. I ran.” She looked to the ground, unable to end the comforting retelling of her worries.
“I know what you think of me. That I’m a coward, a deserter, or that I stood against my country in an unjustified rebellion. That I’m useless. You’re right. Absolutely right. I should’ve died in that war.” She buried her face in her hooves, and sobbed quietly.
The stallion remembered the young filly he once had the honour to help. And just as the young filly and her sister, that mare needed guidance, an ear for confessions, or simply a shoulder to cry on.
He let the mare’s tears stain his coat as he held her in an embrace. She didn’t shy away when he moved closer, and didn’t hesitate to cry on his shoulder. Eventually she stopped crying and simply lingered, sharing warmth in the cold evening. The stallion pulled back to look deeply in her catlike narrow slits of eyes.
“Why would you be a coward if you wished to get away from the war that had no sense? Not following orders of an over-ambitious commander who fights only for his own glory is a sign of bravery rather than cowardice.” Still she looked at him sadly, maybe the wounds were too fresh now. He would not rest until she smiled though.
The stallion led the mare to his bedroom. He was comfortable enough sleeping by the fire anyway. He never asked for her name. Names were merely words, arrangements of letters that matter nothing without the pony to wear them. As he left her to settle in for the night, though, he saw her smile barely, tiredly, and mumble a “thank you.”
Was she thanking him? Or was she simply mumbling on the edge of her consciousness the words that he so selfishly interpreted as a gratitude? No fire had ever warmed him as pleasantly as those words and the idea that he hadn’t failed. Not yet at least. That night he slept well, despite the hard floor beneath him and the chill outside seeping in through the windows.
Dreamless sleep released him of its grasp as soon as the sun arose. Even despite the light of the fire he slept by, he stood up with the first morning rays that pierced his window. He gazed at the world outside to revel in the many colours of autumn, as the trees of the nearby forest shed their leaves.
With renewed hopes, the stallion remembered the visitor he had admitted yesterday, and his heart fluttered for a second. He had helped someone yet again, and it thrilled him deeply. The way downstairs seemed a bit shorter than usual, and the scent of morning tea even sweeter. He had a direction now, and he could set his imprint upon the world.
He minded the visitor and remembered to make a bigger portion of breakfast, as well as two mugs of tea instead of one. He waited with the food a few moments, eager to share a meal with the mare under his roof.
She left the bedroom in a state a typical woken-up pony would be: with her mane dishevelled, eyes still half-closed, and posture still yearning to come back to the peaceful ground. “Do you have coffee?” she asked tiredly. “The bed was way too comfy, I slept far too well. Can’t wake up now, though.”
The stallion smiled, his eyes admiring the mare without her armour. She trusted him well enough to feel safe in his presence and not arm herself. “I’m afraid not. I own only the things I grow myself. I have tea though. There should be some caffeine in it too.”
The mare took a seat by the table, next to the stallion. There were no other chairs further from him, but she didn’t complain. She instead focused on her mane, running her hooves over it time and time again, until she gave in with a frustrated groan. “Do you have a brush or something?” He opened one of the shelves to fetch it. “Thanks.”
“What are you going to do now?” he asked, a part of his mind still hopeful she would decide to stay in the lighthouse.
“I don’t know.” She put the brush down, looking at it thoughtfully. “I don’t have anything left in Equestria. The rebellion has fallen, they’re probably hunting us down. My mother is dead, I don’t even know how she died. I have no other close family. I don’t really know where I’d go.” She sighed heavily.
The stallion’s heart sank. He felt like crying and wallowing in despair along with the mare. He would do anything, though, to make a smile light up her features again. He stood up and walked to the door, beckoning for the mare to follow. “Come with me, I’ll show you something.”
They trod through the forest, sometimes wading through piles of fallen leaves. The mare didn’t seem to feel the chill, probably due to her pegasi resistance. The stallion simply didn’t mind. For once, he found his companion enraptured by the sights.
He sometimes slowed down a little to kick a nearby tree and shower the mare with leaves. With a relief he noticed her smiling, even laughing. He couldn’t help but mirror her, happy with her own happiness, but still remembering her concerns and trying to find a solution. Some solution. Any solution. But was there one?
They reached a clearing in the forest, a pond in its centre surrounded by patches of blue flowers. The way both the flowers and the water glittered in sunlight seemed almost magical. “Don’t touch them,” he warned. “They are poisonous.” The pair settled down side-by-side, admiring the dangerous beauty from distance.
“This isn’t it yet.” He looked at the sun to confirm the time. “Just a second.” His words were true.
A multicoloured cloud, ever-changing, ever-moving, rose itself from the flowers and grasses of the plain. It had all hues a pony eye could discern, and far, far more than a pony mind could name. There were the rich royal blues, the sea blues, the greens of plains, greens of leaves, yellow and white of the sun itself and the gold that no necklace or ring could ever possess.
The cloud covered the sun, its colours intertwining, hiding and surfacing back. Some of the sunrays passed through the cloud, cascading on the plain and disappearing into the cloud yet again, for others to follow. The cloud grew and thinned at once, as new butterflies rose to the air from the plain, and the former ones started their journey.
“It’s their stop on the way south. They’re migrating for winter, then coming back. They’ll stay here for two days before leaving.” The mare beside him listened only half-minded, as her full attention was focused on the display before her. She had a wonderfully wide grin and a shine in her eye the stallion couldn’t help but smile at.
When the cold became unbearable for both of them, they returned to the lighthouse, beaconed by the light and warmth of fire. They rested in front of it, basking in its glow, soothed with its eternal dancing.
“Thank you,” the mare said quietly, her voice bordering whisper. “For everything you’ve done for me.”
He met her gaze, greedily drinking the rich streams of happiness from within her deep golden eyes. He then reluctant looked away to reassert his thoughts. “But I have just shown you a few butterflies. Life is so much more than that.” He stumbled with words, his mind failing him for a second. Perhaps she would...
“But that’s just it! If there are butterflies, there are also bound to be other things. I want to find them.” Yes, love is a beautiful thing. It’s the feeling that makes one’s heart flutter, one’s mind go blank, it’s a state of bliss and... “I can go back to Equestria now.”
The stallion felt as if his heart was pierced by an icy blade. “Oh, of course. Find another job. I’m sure your ruler will issue amnesty. Or you can just go somewhere you won’t be recognized as a rebel.” Find a way to make her stay here, find a way to make her stay here, find a way...
She stood up, and so did he. She locked her forelegs in an embrace around him, and he was more than happy to give into the bliss, to fool his mind for a second. “Thank you again,” she whispered.
She then left. He followed her down the stairs, inhaled her sweet scent, reluctant to let go. Once again they exchanged an embrace at the doorstep. “Keep my armour,” she said. “I’m not a soldier anymore.” She then took a long, painful sigh.
“Goodbye,” she said, tears of joy in her eyes.
“Goodbye,” he whispered, tears of sorrow streaming down his cheeks.
As she left, he closed the door and slumped down to the floor. His world left alongside her, quiet hoofsteps outside the only indication of its existence. It took all of his willpower not to run after her and beg her to stay. He allowed the sorrow to overwhelm him as his strength withered.
Love at first sight didn’t exist. The one he once had experienced required nurturing, and bloomed warmly for years. It never sparked in a day, but in months, and the fire burned brightly for a long time. This one wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.
If it wasn’t true, then why was his heart aching so much?
---
Were these days, months, or years, he couldn’t tell. Every time he tried to count the time, to mark it in some way, he would forget and be forced to start anew, as if the lighthouse itself desired to remain ageless. He buried her armour in the earth, his heart giving way to the cold snow around. Were it only one winter, or a thousand years, he couldn’t tell.
The bed still bore her scent, the fire still brought back memories of her resting before it. He feared even visiting the forest anymore, for fear of additional pain. Even despite excessive knowledge of plants, he couldn’t find even one that would help him. The red capped mushroom seemed as the best solution, albeit permanent and painful one.
A knock sounded on his door. She would not return, it was simply his mind playing tricks on him. Two more knocks broke the silence. The waves of sound seemed to echo in pain within his heart. Who dared disrupt his peace? “Go away!” he shouted at the door. “I will not help you! Go away!”
Silence. Merely a second before another knock, much less demanding one, then a hoof sliding down the wood in resignation. He sighed and stood up, hesitating before opening. He toyed with his mind, made himself think it was the mare he fell in love with before the door. Or maybe Death himself had the mercy to take him away.
The open door admitted not Death, but an old, tired mare, her white coat not as bright and pristine as it used to be. A weary, empathetic expression adorned her features. “I am sorry for interrupting your privacy, my little pony. I might not know what your distress is, but in an act of selfishness I have come to seek your company. Maybe I can help you? I promise I can at least try.”
She could not help, he was sure, but he recognized her; barely so, though. He remembered vividly a filly who looked similar to her, a filly who visited him years ago, or was it centuries now?
She smiled. “Yes, I’m the little filly who’d come to ask you for the way. And you offered me just that. I can never thank you enough for what you did.” He seated her at the table, and rushed into the kitchen to make his tea. Questions swirled in his mind as he came back with two mugs full of the soothing liquid.
“How much time has passed?” the stallion asked. He couldn’t believe he lived there for so long.
“Many, many years...” The mare trailed off thoughtfully. He stared at her silently, the ache in his heart dulled by the sparking curiosity.
“How has your life passed after I sent you off?” Now a filly that seemed a figment of his imagination stood before him old, regal, and most importantly – tired.
“It was long, very long to be truthful. Perhaps a bit too long. I ruled as I was told to at first, then I found my own way. I and my sister were equals, but there was a rift between us. It grew, with time, and we had quite a few fights.”
A rift, rift means lack of agreement and that might lead to war. The war. The armour. The mare. The memories came flooding back to him, making him wince in pain and flatten his ears. The old mare looked at him sympathetically, aiding him in recovery, but not asking questions. He was grateful for that.
“A rift?” he asked finally.
A pain of her own was expressed in her features, dark frown creasing her face, dull glimpses of pain in her eyes. “She guided the moon and the stars. I used to admire her night. I still do. I thought she knew that.”
The stallion nodded. “Ponies are like that. They need to be reminded of how we feel toward them every day. If they love us, they won’t take us for granted for that. They simply won’t forget that we love them. We mustn't let them forget.”
She closed her eyes, her eyelashes wet. “I had to use... desperate measures. I... hurt her. Although she forgave me, I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself.” She took an aching sigh. The stallion put his foreleg on her shoulder, offering a kind smile she received with appreciation.
“Why would you visit me now? Doesn’t your country have a promising future before it?” In her eyes he found plenty of fatigue. She was at peace though.
“You see, my dear lighthouse keeper, every road has its end, and I am very, very tired and very, very old. That might be selfish, and I suppose I accept myself as a selfish pony, but I cannot go on. Not without causing unintended harm to my subjects.” Both pain and experiences weighed on her soul as she took a heavy sigh, desperate to get rid of both.
“I can’t help you. Just as you can’t help me. We can merely share our burdens.” She nodded, urging him forward. “My story is simple. I fell in love with someone I shouldn’t have. I have been aching since then.”
She was silent for a while, for truly even a goddess could not do anything. “You are right, I cannot help you. Time will though. What aches now will be but a bad dream by tomorrow.” He didn’t believe it, but who was he to argue with a goddess? Her ear twitched. “Did you hear that?”
Beside her voice, he didn’t hear anything, and so he shook his head. “No, I didn’t. Maybe it was a call for you, and only for you.”
She gazed at him, then at the door. “A sound of a door being shut, as if something’s ending. After every end there is a beginning, or so they say.” She stood up and walked toward the entrance. “Goodbye, my little pony. May your aching heart be healed and thrive in happiness.”
“Goodbye,” he said. This time, it wasn’t only filled with sorrow. There was hope too. Hope for the mare, and hope for himself. How long had she waited for the sound of a closing door? How long would he wait?
---
Days passed and the lighthouse keeper waited. He thought of the older filly who had grown into a mare, how she changed from their first meeting to their brief last conversation. He relished the moments he had spent with someone to talk with, as his work was filled with loneliness.
The stallion took care to harvest the edible plants from his garden, to resupply his apothecary in the forest and to try and be happy. He waited for another knock at his door patiently, wondering who will be next to either say goodbye, or look for guidance.
It was a dark and cold evening, moon shone low in the sky, another winter was approaching. It was high time to restock his supplies. The world’s routine seemed to reach its peak when he heard the long awaited sound.
This knocking was quite similar to the last visitor’s, its royalty signified by a sound of metal striking the wood. It was much less insisting than the mare’s, though still enthusiastic. It had to be the other filly. It had to be another goodbye.
As he anticipated, he was met with a tired, exhausted gaze yet again. It wasn’t as weighted with guilt as the older mare’s, though. The coat of the pony before him was dark, dark as the night. She didn’t resemble the young filly he’d once known.
“Excuse me kind sir, but it appears that I’ve lost my way. The tracking spells don’t seem to work here. What is this place?” The mare’s curt, yet still not devoid of emotion, voice announced her presence and warmed the stallion’s heart.
“You don’t remember me, do you, my dear?” Her forlorn stare answered for her.
“I feel like I should, but it seems to flee deeper into my mind whenever I reach for it. I’m sorry.” She rubbed her forelegs together, a gesture she probably neglected to root out during her lessons. Considering he recalled her still being a filly but a few years ago, her adorable behaviour caused him to smile warmly.
“Come in. I’m sure the tea’ll clear your mind up a bit.” She didn’t correct the lack of use of her formal title, and the stallion was thankful for that. She instead followed him into the lighthouse.
As the mare sat by the table, the stallion noticed a spark of familiarity in her eyes. He wondered whether the older mare had simply a better memory, or something else was the cause for her sister’s forgetfulness. It was enough for her to take a sip of his tea, though, to turn the spark of recognition in her eye into a brightly burning flame.
“I remember!” she shouted before jumping off her chair and hugging the stallion tightly. “I’m so sorry. I forgot so much after...” As she released him, he exchanged warm smiles with her.
Only then did he notice how tired she was. How with desperation she hugged him, hoping the world would be better with one more friend in it. “I’ve got the time, and the tea too.” He pointed at the mug before him. “Tell me all you wish to, let it all out.”
She sighed heavily, but the stallion’s encouraging smile drew her forth. “Where should I start?” Her eyes darted upward, possibly in deep thought. “From the beginning, right?”
Her sheepish smile was met with his encouraging nod. “Wherever you wish. Tell me all you feel the need to tell.” She nodded and began her tale.
“Your words had turned us back to the castle, but had done little to the situation there, at least in the beginning. I have to confess, my sister stopped me from running away again, and once the court started listening, we shoved them back and forth them all we wanted.” She giggled sweetly before continuing.
“There were still differences between me and my sister, some we couldn’t resolve on our own. Because of our pride and godly reputation, we failed to acknowledge something was wrong and ask for help, thus the rift grew. When my sister turned to her work, devoting every and each day to her subjects, I locked myself in my room, sometimes ran away from the castle and my duties.” She took a heavy sigh.
“I wasn’t faring well. It felt as if I wasn’t in control of my mind anymore. I tried to ask for help, but it was far too late. Maybe I simply imagined asking for help. I started hearing voices, or rather one voice in particular.” She shivered, taking a sip of the tea. The stallion beside her moved closer, putting a hoof over her shoulder and offering an encouraging smile.
“The voice I thought was merely my own told me to hate my sister. I... I complied.” The stallion noticed her eyes glistening with yet unshed tears.
As she paused to take a ragged breath, the stallion pulled her into a kind embrace she accepted and appreciated. “That thing, that parasite, made me strike against my own sis’, my dear sis’.” She sobbed quietly into the stallion’s shoulder, and he did nothing to stop her. In time, though, she pulled back and wiped the tears from her eyes.
“My wonderful sister forgave me. Although she is now with the stars, may I never stop loving her dearly. Never!” She sighed painfully and tiredly. “The young shall lead the country now, the ones both I and my sister assigned together. They are most surely well prepared.” She smiled at the memories. “I still don’t know why the threads of fate would lead me here, though.”
The stallion sighed quietly and tiredly in a thought before taking a hesitant sip of the tea to clear his mind. “Are you sure of your decisions then? Perhaps the point of your arrival here is to decide whether to give in or to fight, whether the battle is even yours to lead.”
Luna’s ears perked up, yet her eyes gazed far into the distance as she weighed her future fate. “Although I wish to help, I don’t believe I’ll bring more help than harm. I’m weary. Old. Ancient even.” She chuckled, but then clenched her teeth, her eyes shining with cold resolution. “We shall reunite with our sister… I mean, I suppose there’s nothing more I can do for Equestria.”
The stallion smiled warmly. “Then I suppose there’s nothing more I can give you. My purpose here is fulfilled.”
“Thank you. For both the tea and an ear, I really needed that.” The mare smiled at the stallion. She then gasped, as if sudden sound broke the silence. Even though the stallion couldn’t hear it, he knew very well what that was. “Did you hear–”
“The sound of a carriage door closing? No, I didn’t. It’s your call, not mine. Farewell, my dear. I will miss you.” Even despite her fatigue, the tired old monarch had changed little since she was but a soon-to-be princess. The stallion adored her for that.
The mare swept her friend in a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you! Goodbye! I’ll never forget you again. I promise I won’t!” She smiled yet again, her eyes expressing both the quiet resolve and a spark of the years gone by. As much as the stallion respected and accepted the older mare as his ruler, he simply loved her younger sister with the entirety of his heart.
And with a goodbye, the last sister was gone. The lighthouse keeper was done with a great part of his quest. His old heart reached a point beyond mending with loves lost and friendships torn apart. The fate, though, would not yet allow him to pass away. The world still stood, and the light still burned.
---
To the horror of the lighthouse keeper, the fire diminished. Adding more firewood yielded no result. Perhaps it was as She wished it to be, for the fire to finally die. As he compared the light to the universe itself, he couldn’t help but wonder – was the world reaching its peak only to plunge into nothingness?
Perhaps Equestria was grieving the loss of the two sisters. Perhaps it was something else entirely. No one could ever know. The fire diminished still, the light glowing weaker by the slightest of margins each day. Yet another set of knocks at the door of the lighthouse sounded a confirmation to the stallion’s musings.
Behind the door he found two mares, united in perhaps their last goodbye to the world. He smiled, interrupting their future sentence with a welcome of his own. “Welcome to the edge of the world. I’ve been waiting for you.” Both mares were left dumbfounded as the stallion led them inside. They nodded their pleasantries before stepping after him.
The stallion presented the mares, alicorns, he noted, with two mugs of tea before taking a seat himself. He then examined them carefully, finding both of them just as tired with their lives as the old royal sisters had been. The time seemed to flow far too fast for him.
“I presume you don’t know me. I’m the lighthouse keeper.” He smiled a welcoming smile, and they reciprocated to his heart’s content.
“I don’t really know what to say. We are the current princesses of Equestria. I’m not sure why we are here. I’m sorry to impose,” said the slightly taller mare. The stallion hated her forlorn and tired expression.
“Thank you for your hospitality, kind sir, but we need to go back to our subjects. They need us more than ever.” A shorter mare stole a glance at the door.
“Wait a moment,” he calmly told her. “What’s happening? Perhaps it isn’t as dire as it seems.”
“I know not to lose hope,” answered the mare, “but the situation doesn’t seem well. A blight destroyed a large amount of our crops and the temperature around the world is decreasing rapidly. There have also been sightings of windigoes around the northern border.”
“One would say that our love and unity is faltering, but I can’t admit it,” chimed in the taller mare. “The Crystal Heart is as bright as it has always been since its return. Our nation is as well as it has always been, and yet the world seems to punish us for the crimes not committed. The griffins and dragons are noticing the same changes.”
Even though the stallion knew little of the Crystal Heart, or wars fought in his absence, he could already suspect what was going on. Yet what would cause the two mares to understand was beyond his reach. They’d need to trust his simple words. “Follow me,” he commended.
The stallion led them upstairs to the great fire. He seated calmly before inhaling the air with the richly smelling smoke and letting it linger in his lungs. As the taller mare seated herself beside him, her friend paced about the room impatiently. “There has to be some explanation to this. Some way to prevent what’s happening. If you can tell us, please do,” she asked.
“Sit down, my dear. Calm down and breathe,” said the taller one. The other princess sat down, raising her hoof and breathing in, then lowering it and breathing out. She then offered a tired and apologetic smile to both the stallion and her friend.
“I have a story to tell you, I’ll make it as short as I can.” He stared into the fire to gather the words as two mares listened intently.
“Long time ago, an alicorn of beautiful red mane and pristine white coat tasked me with guarding this light for her. The fire never burned out, though, as the years went by.” He noticed the shorter mare staring for a second into the distance, probably recognising the mysterious alicorn.
“Time flows here as it pleases,” said the stallion. “Millennia can become centuries, years – months. That isn’t important.” He waited for the mare to seat calmly down and listen to him again. Her nation’s situation and fatigue brought great amounts of stress upon her aged mind. “All that time, the fire burned brightly. Try making it brighter, if you want.”
Both the alicorns exchanged glances and focused their attention on the fire. With spells they both fuelled with godly amounts of magic, they made the flame rise higher and burn brightly. A second later, though, it fell to its dimmer state.
“How is that possible?! This flame should have burned brightly for centuries with the power we gave it!” the shorter mare reasoned. Her friend panted in unexpected exertion before sitting down.
“It has burned brightly since the beginning of this world. Now, with each day forth, it’s diminishing. Not much longer until it burns out completely, it looks like,” the stallion said, once again examining the fire and the tired mares.
The shorter mare flared her horn with spells, trotting around the fire and checking it over and over. “No matter the amount of magic, it will diminish and burn out in a week, plus or minus twenty minutes and thirty five seconds, roughly.”
“A week here might mean a month, a year, or a century in Equestria. Who knows? The world thrives with the flame, the flame thrives with the world, but if one is to die out...” He was running on thin ice with his assumptions, yet hoped they wouldn’t prove right.
“Then the world is coming to an end. I never would have guessed it would happen during my life,” said the shorter mare rather dismissively.
“What are you talking about?! It can’t be now! We’ve come only so far with our research! And we need to continue the work with the constellations! It can’t all be over now!” The taller mare slumped to the floor, utterly defeated.
“No, it can’t be, but it is. Whatever happens, I’m going back to Equestria, and you’re going with me. We might be older and weaker than before, but we have to help our subjects,” said determinedly the shorter mare, sparking the spirit of her friend.
“We’re going down fighting. Honour doesn’t have much sense after everyone’s dead, but I suppose our subjects deserve as much from us. For Equestria.” She stood up, glaring at the fire counting their final hours and glancing at her friend, who was also readying to leave.
With a “Goodbye” they left hastily, together running a road that would or would not lead them back home, in hope that there would be a home to return to. The stallion chuckled quietly as he realised he didn’t actually help them, merely showed them the hopelessness of their situation.
The fire was burning out, the world was ending in a howl of a freezing blizzard. What a wonderful time for retirement.
---
With a relief the stallion noted his pantry still had quite a few supplies left. The storm of snow and cold had hit his realm too, as dark clouds coated the skies above and pristine flakes carpeted the ground below. The stallion reminded himself in time to shut the windows and not let any of the freezing wind inside.
Although the fire diminished even more, becoming mere embers desperately trying to keep their glow, it remained lit. No one had come to visit him yet, though he suspected the sound he heard would be the sound of a closing door, right before Death claimed him.
There was no sound of a cart’s door closing. There was, however, a knocking at his door. Thanks to his door opening inward, he could still open them, and inside fell a pile of snow and two visibly famished visitors. Judging by how tenderly they helped each other, he guessed they were a couple, or at least very close family. Both of them were earth ponies.
“Thank you for... for letting us in.” The stallion’s voice faltered and the pair shook violently in the cold. He then moved the snow beside the door and closed it with their host’s help.
They were directed upstairs to warm up in whatever was left of the fire. Their host turned to the kitchen to prepare some food and a bit of warm tea. He was careful not to let them warm up too quickly, lest the cold blood reach their heart or brain and cause death of hypothermia.
“We were travelling from the southern reaches of Appleloosa to Canterlot when the storm reached us. We tried to find shelter in the Everfree forest, got lost, and somehow found ourselves here,” said the mare by her lover’s side.
It seemed to the stallion that to get to the lighthouse one must become lost both mentally and physically. “How’s the world outside?” he asked with fear of the inevitable.
“Apparently Canterlot was still holding out thanks to the power of the princesses, but it was quickly running out. We had all been running to simply get some more time together. The few that opted to stay were claimed by the snow.” The mare’s voice broke and her lover comforted her almost immediately, as if reading her thoughts.
“Is it true,” he started, “that the world’s ending? Can we somehow stop it? And why is this lighthouse still so warm when everything else has been turned to ice?”
“The lighthouse will persevere, that’s for sure,” said the lighthouse keeper. “I’m its guard, my purpose is to protect this fire as long as it burns. As it seems to me, the lighthouse lives a life of its own. With its own time and source of heat, it seems to be in a different dimension. What is your role in it all, though, I cannot yet tell.”
“Are we supposed to repopulate the Earth? That would be quite difficult. We’re earth ponies of long pure lineage, the races would be very uneven. The sheer scale seems completely impossible,” mused the stallion. The mare shot him a flat stare.
“Under one condition. You’re going to give birth to all these foals yourself.” She chuckled at the stallion’s wide-eyed stare before nuzzling him.
“There might be other survivors too,” the host chimed in. “The stars wouldn’t have such a ridiculous part in their plans. I am sure you’ll figure something out.”
The mare gazed out on the horizon. “Not yet, I guess. The storm outside doesn’t seem so inviting.”
“How long have you been staying here?” asked the mare’s companion.
“You see, the lighthouse has a much different flow of time than Equestria itself. I have been here for a few years, but in your world, it could’ve been millennia.” The pair regarded him with disbelieving stares, as if they thought he had lost his mind.
Even though the stallion’s disbelieving gaze didn’t falter, the mare simply sighed. “I see no reason not to believe you. Whether what you’re saying is true or not, we’ll have to stay here until the storm subsides. I just hope it won’t be centuries later when we go back eventually.”
“Do we really have to?” chimed in the stallion before turning to their host. “We could be a great help to you. We could gather food, or help with the fire, or–” The mare put a gentle hoof on his muzzle.
“You know we can’t. Whether we want it or not, we’ll have to go back,” she said finally.
“As much as I’d love having a living soul to talk to, your partner is right. It is up to you to return to what will be left of your world as the storm subsides.” He glanced out the window. “If it ever subsides.” He smiled slightly, eliciting a few dark chuckles from the pair.
As the trio waited for the world to end, they swapped stories of their lives. Sitting by a fire and recalling the more positive parts of their varying lifetimes, they felt as if on a long journey. Days passed as the lighthouse keeper listened and retold all the meetings he had, and all the ponies he either guided, or was guided by. The storm finally subsided, the snow melted.
The pair left the lighthouse, as all the visitors had done at some point. The fire burned out to the last dying ember. Maybe a new keeper would use it to kindle a new fire and turn the sand clock around.
---
Days passed. The lighthouse keeper couldn’t tell whether the Equestria was older by millennia, centuries or months. He had released the last visitors, perhaps his work was done. The utter silence overtook him so fully that he almost jumped after hearing the sound of a cart’s door closing.
The stallion rushed to the door the second he heard a few deliberate knocks. The creature he admitted seemed none like anything he had ever seen. It had a patched-up, heavily worn coat covering its erect posture. It didn’t have a scythe, neither black robes, nor was it a living skeleton. A Diamond Dog then. Wasn’t it strange that the representant of such a small, forgotten race was chosen for the post of Death? Was it Death? The creature smiled.
“Would you mind letting me in? I believe you have some questions unanswered. I’ll try my best to change that.” As the stallion stepped aside, Death stepped through the door. The stallion then showed him his place and rushed into the kitchen for the last cup of tea.
“Why me?” asked the stallion, taking a sip out of his mug. “Why not someone else?”
Death yet again smiled. “A good question. Most believe there always should be a prophecy, a reason to the actions of the gods. This time, though, there was none. You simply meet the requirements. Not the only one, but one of the few,” Death explained simply. The stallion seemed nonplussed, yet it soothed him somewhat that he wasn’t a “chosen one” but a simple pony.
“What happened to the mare I met? The soldier of yellow pupils, grey coat and dark mane.” His eyes glistened with both the sorrow and the happiness she brought him.
“She went back to Equestria to start a family and serve as a postmare. She was happy, yet she never forgot you.” The stallion smiled at Death’s revelations. At least someone was happy after leaving the lighthouse.
“What happened to Equestria then? What about the last princesses? What about the last pair of ponies I met?” The stallion stopped abruptly his stream of questions as soon as Death motioned for him to slow down.
“Equestria is dying. The civilisation as you knew it is gone, the last princesses died with that world. The pair of ponies you’ve met have been the last ponies to live there.” Death’s voice not once faltered, even though it bore a lot of emotion. Both pain of an ending, and a happiness of a beginning.
“You say Equestria is dying. You mean Equestria as we know it? A new world on the ashes of an old one?” the stallion asked yet again, desperate to know every bit of the story.
“Equestria is ancient and tired. It’ll crumble to pieces soon, to give birth to a completely new world. The last ponies to visit you have been chosen to supervise that world. They aren’t special in a way an ingenious scientist, or a brave warrior would be. They will suffice though.”
The stallion nodded, finally understanding.“The end of the world was merely a cleansing to start anew with a chosen group?” the stallion asked.
“Not quite. It was a goodbye of sorts. To Equestria. The ponykind may or may not continue, it will be up to the pair who left you most recently. They will shape the world to come. Does that suffice for an explanation?” The stallion nodded.
“One question yet remains,” Death said. “You still have many years to live and I can grant you even more, should you wish. Would you like to start a new life in a new world, or simply end this one and reach the other side?”
The stallion scratched his chin in a thought. A hard choice it was, considering death might only mean a void with no Heaven to thrive in. The new world seemed risky too, yet the prospect of living many more years in a clean, unhindered place was tempting.
“I would like to end it all now,” said the stallion.
Death was silent, his stare betraying the need for explanation.
“I have lived a long, wonderful life. Even though I might be a bit too young to die, I think I’d be happy for an eternity with the memories I already have,” explained the stallion.
Death smiled warmly at the pony’s confessions. “I understand your decision. Before we depart, however.” His grin widened. “Tell me, what have you learned, my little pony?”
The stallion stared forlornly, confused at Death’s grin. He then cast his eyes upward in an attempt to remember and connect the pieces.
“The older royal sister showed me that it’s often better to give in your own selfish desires for the good of your friends or subjects. That you can be happy with their happiness.
“The younger sister was simply an inspiring girl. No matter what she’s gone through, she was the same the day I met her and the day I said goodbye a few millennia later. She taught me that who you are is the best pony you can be, even though sometimes you make mistakes.
“Then there was the mare I never asked the name of. At first, I simply thought it was unimportant, that she will leave sooner or later. In the end, though, I feared her name would haunt me forever, were I to know and remember it. She taught me that if there’s one beautiful thing in life, there must also be others. It’s worth living to look for them.
“The last princesses I didn’t have much time to know well. They struck me with their unspoken sense of duty. They simply gave their lives to a lost fight because they thought that would be the right thing to do. A simple lesson stems from their actions: to never let down those who need you and to never give up, even though you know you’ve lost.
“The last pair, well, they didn’t really seem overly courageous or wise, simple ponies, like me. If what you say is true, than we can learn one thing from both of their and my story – that a simple pony can change the world.” Death nodded, his grin once again turning into a genuine smile as he listened intently.
“You’re right, and the lessons you’ve learned are quite valuable. Let us go now.” They left the lighthouse to see a strange, blue metal cart with no horses to pull it. “The big fiat 125p, best machine in the chained universes. Everywhere, I’d say!” Death grinned, pride shining in his eyes.
Death opened the door and the stallion jumped in. He then kicked the door with a good dose of strength, making the cart shake in response and the pony inside grasp his seat. Death sat beside the stallion, closing the door with a bit duller sound. He opened it again and pulled it in much faster, closing it right this time. He then inserted the keys and turned them around. The machine choked a few times, though at the third attempt, it started.
With a loud grumble of an old engine, they drove off. Death laughed. “You know what? You haven’t learned anything from me yet.”
Even though the stallion quietly wondered whether he wanted to learn anything more, the machine made a sharp turn. Now, instead of fields, trees passed by them as they sped through the forest.
Just before impacting a huge oak, the stallion caught a glimpse of a door of light. He closed his eyes, awaiting the impact that never came. The machine stopped shortly after, and the stallion sought out a proper switch to open the door. He then fell out of the machine, scared and tired.
As the door was forcefully slammed shut behind him, he merely rose to his hooves and looked around. “Mushrooms. I’ve collected mushrooms everywhere, tried even on the moon. There are no mushrooms on the moon, unfortunately. There are a few here, though,” rambled Death.
Perhaps that was his lesson. That before reaching for something out of grasp, one needs to look right under his hooves. There are absolutely no mushrooms on the moon, though a few are growing under the tree nearby.
The realisation struck the stallion as he yet again looked around. The pond nearby, the dandelions growing in patches of grass. Wild, thorny bushes full of roses. “This is the place I first met my love and future wife.” He sighed. “She was the most wonderful pony I’ve ever met. I feel guilty for falling in love with someone that wasn’t her. Especially after she died.”
The stallion looked at his reflection in the pond, remembering the time when two ponies, instead of one, gazed back at him. His wife loved this place, and so did he. He felt gentle paws of Death running through his mane. “This is more of War’s thing, but I’ll try my best,” he gave a sheepish smile before sitting beside the stallion.
“Love is not something we control. We might be in a romantic relationship with someone, while feeling attachment to someone else, while still grieving a loss,” Death explained scarcely. “Don’t feel guilty, the heart is nobody’s servant.”
He pointed his strange, short and thin claw at the Mount Avalon, the one Canterlot stood on. As the legend told, it was visible from every corner of Equestria. Upon their eyes, the very earth shook, and the city fell off with a great chunk of the mountain. It crumbled to pieces below the mountain, merely dust and rubble remained.
“Alicorns have guarded this world for millennia. Now, however, the land has grown old, as you have seen all the princesses do. Even though no power in this world could bring them down, they had simply reached their time.” The stallion listened with curiosity to Death’s words.
“Has everyone else left, or died? We’re completely alone now?” he asked.
Death nodded. “Yes, they have. From the magic this world held, a new one will rise,” Death said. The earth shook yet again as scars tore its surface.
The forests, the lakes, the hills, all fell into the void as the scars turned into vast, empty oceans. As the last of the pieces fell away, the stallion and Death sat in a starless, moonless void. Merely a small, blue star remained far below them, the centre of the world. Sparks of light travelled upward from it, dissipating into thin air. The star itself soon faded out.
He looked heavenward, deep in thought, muttering, “War would be so much better at that...” He scratched his chin, still phrasing the right words. “Remember this, little pony. Fear not the end, for not every end is a bad one. Cherish your endings, for some don’t have even as much as that, desperately seeking for a conclusion to something going on for far too long.”
The stallion already knew that, he wouldn’t have chosen the afterlife had he not known. He simply nodded at Death’s confession, though, regarding him with compassion. The creature’s eyes were tearing and his expression formed a sad frown. It seemed that he phrased the lesson upon his own, probably dreadful, experience.
Death then led the stallion to the cart, slamming the door shut behind him. After a long battle with the ignition system, it started its engine with a satisfying growl. Death pushed the right pedal, causing the cart to speed forward. They left the dead world for the other side in a flash of light.