Twilight Sparkle ran on aching hooves underneath a sky of vivid, glowing red, the lonely and empty plains illuminated by the rhythmic, pulsating light like the blinding sirens she had seen on the tops of streetcars tearing through the streets of Manehattan.
She leaped over a sudden fissure cracking through the crumbling world, an endless drop into an abyss of pure white light. As far as she could see across where had once been beautiful trees or vibrant communities full of happy ponies, there was only signs of this abstract apocalypse, but she did her best to drive back these morbid thoughts as she made her way towards the one far off point of promise, a literal glowing beacon of blue light serving as a glaring reminder of the whole reason she was still pushing herself forwards.
The world around her was doomed beyond repair, and she was the only sign of life across it. Even Zecora’s ghost-like voice was gone, Twilight had done her best to keep the impossible link with the world above active as it slowly faded into silence like the whispered words of an old and dying stallion.
More of the ground beneath Twilight’s hooves collapsed, an immense chunk as thick as a street forcing her to shakily unfurl her wings to cover the distance. She barely covered the distance, beating the appendages with great effort and doing her best to ignore the dozens of feathers spilling out and falling into the white abyss. She had no intention of joining them in the darkness veiled beyond the brilliant light, and managed to glide the rest of the distance and make a landing that was with no measure of grace. Instead, she crashed and rolled two dozen feet, her already injured limbs seeming to scream their protest to the pain like the poor victims in those Nightmare Night movies Rainbow insisted they watch every year.
As desperate as she had been to keep fleeing, from her position as she rose Twilight had a fantastic view of the wave of darkness that had been the very thing she had been fleeing from. It was approaching her without ceremony, no bounding cascades of dark magic or flames of some otherworldly entity, instead a simple line of pure nothingness where existence had once been.
“Luna…” Twilight whispered in horror. When she had left her—no, been forced to leave her—Princess Luna had already seemed to be doing her best to keep herself from falling into darkness, stumbling forwards across the rapidly dying grassland and trying her best to ignore the sensation of the wind sneaking its way through the several gushing tears in her flesh. The whole while, she had been barking at Twilight to flee as though she were a misbehaving pet, insisting that she wouldn’t be fine if she stopped to save her there.
The far off point of promise, the beacon of blue magic, was still calling to Twilight, and stumbling to her hooves she continued on at a limping sprint. Behind her, the wave that was nothing was tearing across the plains at a much swifter pace.
“Twilight Sparkle! Are you quite alright?” the panicked but much-desired voice of Zecora rang into Twilight’s mind, distorted almost beyond audibility. “Have you found the source of Equestria’s blight?”
“Zecora! I see it!” Twilight screamed, ecstatic at hearing the zebra’s voice once more, instead of the static drone it had faded to. “I see her.”
Zecora nodded. It was a strange sensation, Twilight felt Zecora nod, as though she carried some half-forgotten memory of nodding herself, but knowing for a fact that she indeed did not do so. It felt like she was sharing her body with somepony else.
“I have my doubts this exchange shall endure,” Zecora said, and indeed she seemed correct as static overcame part of her sentence. “But you know well the nightmare’s cure?”
“I...I hope so. Is Princess Luna still alright up there? Something...ah...something happened to her down here.”
There was a pause of several seconds, during which Twilight imagined Zecora was travelling the short circumference of her cabin to check on the unconscious Princess of the Night. After about a minute (through which Twilight continued running forwards across the plains in bitter anticipation) Zecora’s voice returned.
“Princess Luna’s unconscious seems quite unalert, but her physical self does not seem to be hurt.”
“Good,” Twilight muttered, although she knew it was hardly any consolation. “I’m almost there, Zecora. Anything else I should know?”
Silence, save for the persistent drone of the magic Zecora had been using, sounding like a roaring waterfall and completely obscuring whatever it was Zecora’s response would have been. Twilight sighed and continued towards the pulsating blue tower, arching blue lightning ripping through the red sky above, doing her best to ignore the end of all known reality quickly rushing closer behind her.
***
Earlier
***
The end of Equestria came—as it so often did—in the form of a letter, addressed politely in Princess Luna's posh writing on ancient parchment, sealed closed with a magical seal the likes Twilight had not seen outside of Daring Do novels and magic encyclopedias.
It was one thing to seal a letter for nopony else to be able to read it (Twilight herself sometimes did it simply to practice the admittedly worthless talent) but the seal Luna had put in place was nothing of the sort. Twilight could feel the prickling sensation of dark magic the moment she lifted the envelope in her telekinesis to inspect it closer. Her trembling hoof inched towards the long-dried wax seal, and the moment she finally made contact she was greeted with a jolt of electric pain that coursed through her hooves, sending terrible tingling sensations through her body until she once more broke contact.
It was painful, but it was pain of a surprising variety, feeling more like a cruel prank then a physical assault. Twilight muttered a quiet curse, internally running words of derision she would never have the guts to say before Princess Luna. The enchantment was most likely some archaic tradition she had not let go of quite yet, perhaps inherited in times of war when such an enchantment would actually be necessary. Twilight daintily placed the heavy letter onto the arm of her throne and teleported several thick encyclopedias, quickly finding precisely the counter-spell she needed for Luna's seal. It was not relatively difficult, but it was hardly something an inexperienced unicorn could accomplish. A minor challenge for the Princess of Friendship and Magic, and in hardly any time Twilight was fumbling with Luna's letter.
Several pages came out in a flourish onto the round table before Twilight, showing celestial maps, moon phases, complex looking magical equations; Twilight had to rummage through at least a dozen pages before she found actual words addressed to her.
Twilight Sparkle,
Greetings. We are Princess Luna, Stewardess of the Night and Diarch of Equestria. Her Majesty Princess Celestia, our sister most dear, has informed me of the abolition of most further titles, so I shall avoid detailing myself any further henceforth.
Firstly, and as a note of quite personal nature, allow me to once more extend my inexpressible thanks for your deeds. At the time of writing this letter, we have only met once, and this meeting was but two weeks ago, when you and your friends heroically stood afore the fiend that I had become. Indeed, at the moment of dictating this letter I have concluded speaking with my sister regarding the very matter. I have expressed unto her my fears, and she hath told me of a pony of the most approachable and helpful nature, who much like me is presently doing her best to adapt to a changing life.
But at the time you yourself read this letter, it is likely (or so we greatly hope) that we have both completed this adaption. Verily, this letter may be presenting itself to a Twilight Sparkle of considerable age and wisdom, but regardless of the time of its arrival, its importance shall not have diminished from the time my quill leaves this parchment, and when this parchment in turn reaches you.
Fear is ever prominent in my mind, Twilight Sparkle. Fear that...what the Elements of Harmony did, was not enough. I fear that Nightmare Moon is not gone, or that my mind and the darkness still lurking within may be accessed by another creature to bring forth dark desires and malicious intent. I know not if it is possible, for fear is not often in league with rationality, but it is a presence which I have no intention of disregarding as I so foolishly did once in times passed. If you are receiving this letter, then it has indeed proven that this fear indeed was justified, and it likewise proves that approaching my sister with this fear (and her subsequent suggestion), was no mistake.
Mayhaps it is a simple mistake. A delusion of the hexes cast upon this scroll, or a gross overreaction on my future counterpart's panicked self. I know not. Yet despite our admittedly brief meeting at the merry celebration of mine sister's Summer Sun, I feel content placing my trust in you. At the desperate hope that time's forthcoming Twilight Sparkle presently reading this parchment is no vast perversion of the one I call my acquaintance, it is my understanding (provided of course through knowledge from thine mentor and mine sister) that thou art the most suitable pony to help me. This letter presenting itself to you has proven one of three possible options. I shall thus state them quite concisely, for mistakes cannot be drawn towards their nature.
i) Once more, I have slunk into despair's depths, and these depths hath hitherforth twisted us into a being much different from the one composing presently, in your past. ii) The residual remains of the darkness remain, as survivors of the Element's once-boundless power, and they hath incapacitated me once more. iii) Some foe of oneirolistic magical properties, like mine self, hath risen, and hath bested me in the plains of dreams.
If the first option is true, I at this point apologize for the actions of my future counterpart, accepting fully in my present state of mind the sins of my future, and subsequent judgement associated against them. If the second or third are true, then presently I am unconscious in Canterlot (or wherever my future counterpart presently stands) to be unwoken from now until evil's end.
Celestia no longer looks to my quill as I write, and so I deliver to you instructions, Twilight Sparkle, that I have no wish she bears witness to. Of the spells I have attached are detailed diagrams of the nightsky exactly as I like it. I feel the need to share them, for if you fail I shall no longer be present to bring them forth. I beg you, for the sake of Equestria, to seek forth a pony of magical ability to allow you to, as I can, enter the realm of dreams. In my brief time here in Equestria I have hunted for a 'oneirologist' as they were so called in my day. In my jealousy and rage a thousand years past, I foolishly and childishly saw fit to destroy this knowledge, hexing the dreamscape so that even my sister could have no authority within.
In this future age, I have found but one dreamwalker besides myself, and have included details about her amongst this parcel's varying contents.
Thanking you humbly, and respectfully in your debt from now until the bounds of eternity,
A tiny sparkle of magic, a blink of arcane light, and out of the darkness burst forth the little blue marble in space that was home.
Or so history said. Frankly, Kicheko was quite tired of trusting what those tattered, charred old books had to say about some better times long before. They were beautiful tales, and she found great entertainment in reading about the heroes of the past and of some age long past. An age of harmony and peace and wellness...not that any of those things were in short supply in Equestria. No, Equestria was a fairly fine place to be. It just wasn't what Kicheko would have called home.
Then again, she did not know much about home to begin with. Equestria technically wasn't even hers, if the word of the ponies there were to be believed. Personally, she thought that having spent the entirety of her life there should at least have qualified her as a resident, but apparently her black and white stripes meant she could never be called such.
Forever seen as an outsider, yet never maliciously so. With intrigue she was often approached in by ponies or griffons or reindeer in filthy taverns, with their eyes wide like schoolfillies, eager to hear whatever it was Kicheko had to say about her homeland.
In truth, she had never set foot beyond Equestria and its immediately surrounding areas, and certainly not oversea to where her kind resided. With her own eyes, she had seen as much of her home as the curious spectators.
Instead, Kicheko found “home” in history books. It was a magnificent place of bustling jungles or sprawling grasslands, although it looked much less impressive rendered across pages salvaged from some mad blaze or vicious sandstorm. The words were sometimes legible, although like the pronunciation of her own name (which she told ponies was something like Keyche-coh), they were in a language she could only make a vague attempt at understanding.
Still, bits and pieces she remembered, whether through instinct or actual memories she knew not. Speaking in rhyme came naturally, she couldn't remember a time when she hadn't done so. If her first word was mommy, then her second surely would have been tsunami. Of this, Kicheko had little doubt.
Not that it would have been "mommy." The very thought of something so absurd made her smile and give a little chuckle out loud.
Other than the pouring rain and the sound of a small stampede of four sets of hooves and one set of talons ringing out against the vaguely cobblestone street, Kicheko's brief laughter was the only sound. The streets of Griffonstone—normally busy in the early morning light—were abandoned in the aggressive rain, and the diverse group of five was the only sign of life besides the rushing water. As such, the other four heard her clearly.
Yet her laughter was hardly a rare sound. It wasn't as though she were Princess Skyla, after all. If she were that grumpy unicorn, perhaps it would have been.
As if sensing Kicheko's jokingly accusing thoughts about her, and connecting her abrupt chuckle to those thoughts, Princess Skyla the Fifth rose her voice to break the silent journey.
"Willow, I must ask for the sake of the zebra's sanity...do you know where we're going? Are we almost there?"
"Aw, come on, Sky! We talked about this!" the old reindeer said, after heaving a long and exaggerated groan. "We have names. Out here, you're as...ah...lowly, as us."
"Oh, I don't really care," Kicheko assured, wearing the same grin she was rarely seen without. "I actually kinda like the dramatic flare."
"I intended nothing of the sort!" Skyla said, her defensive voice lashing out like a whip, striking down Kicheko's intended joke in an instant and flinging in it's place an awkward silence. "Unless her eternally unfunny anecdotes and puns can be counted as jokes, it isn't like the irritating rhymes that leave her mouth could be called anything beyond nonsense! As such, I see no reason to provide a name to so un-notable of a pony."
"Oh, and you're so notable yourself?" a gruff voice said in harsh response. Skyla tensed at it's sound...Little Wolf wasn't exactly a small creature; even as far as young bison cows went she was quite large, and her size was devoted almost solely to muscle. Little Wolf was hardly a creature worthy of her name, and even Skyla should have known better than to offer some derogatory comment towards her.
Still, she proceeded to anyways.
“I would think being heir to the Crystal Kingdom and carrying the blood of the great Princess Mi Amore Cadenza herself would qualify me as notable, yes. Particularly in comparison to a runaway bison filly or orphaned zebra lunatic.”
Little Wolf let out a sharp blast of air from her nostrils, and if it were not for Willow's prompt interjection she very well might have tackled the unicorn right then and there in the middle of the wide Griffonstone street.
"Would you three cut it out?" the old reindeer barked, finally ceasing his pace forwards to glare at the bickering unicorn and buffalo, and the zebra doing her best not to smirk and instead appear stoic and emotionless. "Seriously, lighten up, all of you. Be more like Fishcake."
The griffon in question shuffled awkwardly at the mention of his name, his walk slowing even further despite already being some ways behind the rest of them. He made an attempt at a grin—a forced affair on his nervous face—and said nothing. Even upon returning to his homeland after years on the road, the griffon seemed to shy to speak a word. Kicheko had never seen a more modest creature in all her days. She remembered even being intimidated by the speechless griffon, back when he had been traveling alone with Little Wolf and the young bison cow had met Kicheko in some dilapidated tavern in Old Canterlot.
Kicheko did not know if Fishcake was unable to speak, or unwilling to, but she had never seen reason to ask. Despite his large, intimidating appearance, with his sharp talons and beak, Fishcake was the kindest creature she had ever seen. The subtle little grins he responded to her jokes with had as much volume as roaring laughter. Sometimes Kicheko would talk for hours to Fishcake once the others had gone to sleep, telling humorous anecdotes of her travels before they had met or posing some philosophical debate she always promptly pursued alone. The griffon never answered, but he listened intently, delivering his responses through quick nods and shakes of his head, or tiny smiles or frowns.
By contrast, Little Wolf was loud, confrontational, and incredibly defensive; of both herself and her friends. Kicheko was quite comfortable traveling into the shadiest alleyways of Old Canterlot so long as Little Wolf was with her, for not many creatures were foolish enough to pick fights with a buffalo thrice their weight.
As for Willow and Skyla...they were more or less the level-headed response to their quirky behavior. Kicheko couldn't even remember the circumstances in which they had met, but she could not seem to wrap her head around how an aggressive bison, an immature zebra, and mute griffon had lasted three minutes in each other's presence, let alone across the sprawling wildernesses between settlements.
“Princess Prissy is right about one thing at least,” Little Wolf grumbled. Skyla bristled with fury at the nickname, but kept silent. “Where is this place?”
“I dunno. This city is a damn maze, I swear...” Willow responded distractingly, as though wondering the same thing himself. He had abandoned his map when the rain had begun falling, but whipped it out once more to regard the smudged lines with growing irritation. “Fishcake? Are we going the right way?”
Five sets of eyes turned to look at the griffon, who shirked a little at the sudden attention but shook his head sadly. He then brushed past the frustrated reindeer and led the way into a dark alleyway. The others warily followed, the sounds of their hooves and the rain instantly spiking in intensity as they reverberated against the narrowly apart stone walls.
Eventually the alley turned at a sharp right angle, and opened to a large clearing, four stone walls encasing a patch of grass in the middle of the shabby jungle that was Griffonstone. Torches encased in glass sconces lit the building before them, the tavern they had come looking for.
“He should be in here,” Willow was the first to break the silent reverie they had fallen into. After traveling so far, the decrepit building in front of them was like the gates to paradise. “Everyone, listen up. We can't blow this, alright? Little Wolf, try not to get into a fight. Sky, don't start calling ponies 'peasants.' Kiche...”
He paused, swamped for what exactly it was that Kicheko did that would be unwelcome in Griffonstone.
“Just don't do anything,” he said eventually. “At all.”
“I don't really comprehend how I would offend,” Kicheko replied earnestly. “Is a little humour from time to time such a terrible, unforgivable crime?”
“Amongst griffons? I don't wanna take chances,” Willow said firmly. “It's not often King Godric agrees to meeting with a bunch of strangers, and he's the best bet we have for getting some answers. So we can't mess this up.”
Princess Skyla muttered something under her breath, Kicheko catching only enough to know it was hardly anything positive or uplifting. To call Skyla skeptical of the entire purpose of their journey was a...vast understatement. Kicheko sometimes wondered how a pony with as rich a heritage as she claimed could be so void of hope.
King Godric frequented the Lion's DenTavern, and through letters Willow had actually managed to arrange a brief meeting with him. As far as griffon kings went, King Godric was quite well liked by his people and the rest of Equestria, and his willingness to confer with a group of traveling vagrant nobodies quite proved this.
Of course, the political situation in the Griffon Kingdom as delicate as it was, the more logical part of Kicheko knew that this meeting was simply a means to bolster his own public view, for declining five minutes of his time to such a tiny group who had traveled so far would hardly portray him in any positive light. But now, the rest of the Griffon Kingdom would be praising the King for managing to fit these nobodies into his busy life.
But Kicheko did not quite like this view nearly as much, and she felt perfectly content believing that, like them, King Godric truly believed that the Element of Friendship was real and they would one day find it.
“Well, are we going to go ahead?” Kicheko asked, for they seemed content staring straight ahead at the entrance to the tavern, watching the vague shapes of movement from beyond the painted glass windows. “Or just stand out in the rain instead?”
“Seriously,” Little Wolf agreed, taking the first step forwards, finally reaching the door and pushing it fearlessly open.
Silence fell the moment the door was opened and the five of them walked inside. A griffon had been playing a decrepit piano missing many of its keys, but he stopped the moment the door opened and the heavy bison strode her way inside, followed closely by the rest. Every griffon within ceased their conversation to regard the newcomers, the strange and diverse group of various creatures that many of them had not even seen before.
Thankfully, Kicheko noted, their looks seemed to be curious instead of malicious. Despite being the one to force them into movement, Kicheko was quite afraid. She had heard horror stories of griffons in the past who in their desperation during the times of despair several decades ago, had become content consuming flesh in order to stay alive. They were half-lion, after all, but considering Fishcake had been the only griffon she had actually known prior to entering Griffonstone, this had hardly registered in Kicheko's mind.
The five made their way towards the bar, but the griffon glancing warily at them from behind stopped them in an instant when his eyes widened in realization and his voice quickly rang out as sharp as a blade.
“Not her,” he said firmly, narrowing his eyes. “Her kind isn't welcome here.”
Several agreeing murmurs resounded from the tavern's residents. Kicheko instantly thought of herself, wondering what exactly zebras had done to warrant such discrimination, but following the gazes of the griffons she quickly realized she was not the target of their fury.
“Princess Skyla...” Willow turned around slowly and sadly. Kicheko wasn't sure if he had followed the griffon's eyes as she had, or if he already knew from experience how unicorns were seen under griffon eyes. She decided the latter was just as likely an option. “Would you...can you wait outside? We...we don't want any trouble here.”
Skyla looked mortified, and more offended then Kicheko had ever seen her over the past two years they had been traveling together, but she knew as well as Willow that if she refused then they would all be forced out. With an indignant huff, she whipped around and stormed back out into the rainy alleyway, using her magic to fling the heavy wooden door open as harshly as she could manage.
Kicheko looked at the wooden door for only several seconds, before turning around to follow Skyla outside. Willow whispered a quiet thanks to her, and the griffons in the tavern all seemed to settle down significantly now that Skyla was gone.
Kicheko sighed heavily, recalling her excitement upon reading the letter from King Godric confirming that he would be happy to meet them, but quickly decided that her friend was more important and that Willow and Little Wolf could tell her about it later anyways.
The moment the wooden door was opened and the zebra trotted out, Skyla whipped around, and seeing who had left after her, snorted in derision and turned back to look at the alley where she had come.
“Of all the ponies...” Skyla mumbled under her breath. Kicheko chose to pretend she hadn't spoken, and Skyla caught herself and sighed heavily. “Kicheko, what are you doing out here?”
“Just didn't want to ditch you. I can go inside if you want me to...”
Skyla was silent for several moments, looking from Kicheko to the lonely alley. She let out a long breath from her nose and eventually sat down onto the rain street. Kicheko knew that Skyla did not necessarily like her—she was quite vocal of her irritation towards her—but it would seem that even she was a better alternative than being left completely alone in the rainy back alleys of a town in which she was not welcomed.
“It's fine, Kicheko,” she muttered eventually.
Kicheko sat down, too, and neither of them spoke. For several uninterrupted minutes they simply sat in silence. It had been raining since they had arrived in Griffonstone a day prior, but they had spent the majority of that day inside, mulling over maps and charts of the lost Crystal Empire. If the information King Godric provided them proved insufficient, it would be their next destination, but certainly not one any of them were excited for. The Frozen North's name was no fluke of nature, and not many ponies returned from their final treks into the arctic reaches of Equestria.
Skyla claimed with certainty that there was a lost kingdom there. It was one of the few bits of mythology she actually saw merit in believing, but Kicheko knew this was more or less because she did not want to admit that her own genealogy was indeed worthless. She had no doubt that Skyla was the extremely distant relative of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, but the hundreds of years between the generations had rendered that relationship notable in concept alone. Skyla called herself a Princess and believed she should be treated as such, but she had nothing to rule over and nopony who bowed upon seeing her.
The thought made Kicheko sad. Skyla's parents must have been so proud of her, and they had raised her to truly believe that she was destined for great things. By contrast, Kicheko had never had to bear the responsibility of disappointing her parents, and she never feared the despair such a terrible prospect would bring about. Her earliest memories dated back to some orphanage in Old Canterlot, and unlike the tales she read in tattered storybooks she thought that her childhood there was quite nice.
One of such had always been Kicheko's favorite, though, and it was no tale of woe and sadness but instead of bravery. Six friends, each with personalities and abilities so distinct. The Elements of Harmony. Of course, Willow, Little Wolf, Fishcake, and even Skyla knew that tale well, too. Much of Equestria knew about the elements of Kindness, Generosity, Loyalty, Magic, Honesty, and Laughter.
As a young child, Kicheko tried her best to be the final one. Nothing brought her more joy than seeing that joy in the faces of others. And her friends in the orphanage had loved her rhyming dialect, every sentence she spoke was playful and every paragraph a limerick.
The Elements of Harmony were dead, according to Equestria's scholars, but the public view hardly agreed.
“Do you actually think they're out there?” Skyla asked, breaking through Kicheko's thoughts with her eerily relevant question. “Like, actually believe?”
“Indeed I do. Why...don't you?”
“No. Magical stones, powered by a pony's personality? Too much of a fairytale. I'm above believing in fairytales.”
Kicheko was silent. She wondered herself why being above believing in fairytales should ever be boasted as a good thing. To her, it seemed like it would be the greatest tragedy. Fairytales were hopeful and happy. Why would anyone wish to see them as foolish, especially in so dark of a world?
It was to no surprise, however, that Kicheko received this answer. Skyla was the only unicorn Kicheko had ever met who placed absolutely no value in magic.
“I mean, it's a nice dream, I guess,” Skyla continued. “Sure, we all like to dream. But it's not reality. To think that some magic force of friendship is going to bring us all together is just stupid.”
“I don't see why,” Kicheko refuted, without anger. “Besides, why won't you at least try?”
“What's to try?” Skyla snapped, with sudden irritation. “What am I supposed to do? Point my horn at a dead field and expect a rainbow to burst out and flowers to spring up? Sorry, Kicheko, but I'm not delusional like you four are. I don't think I'm so embodiment of harmony.”
“But you have the blood of royalty! Don't you carry at least a bit of loyalty?”
“Just stop it, zebra!” Skyla barked. Kicheko was shocked to see her eyes watering. She had never known Skyla to be one who cried. “You know I'm nothing! You knew ever since you and Little Wolf met me in Canterlot! Blood of Cadence! What a joke!”
“Joking is my responsibility. You have magic as your ability!”
“Yeah, sure! I can levitate and slam doors without touching them!” Skyla was on her feet once more. Her shrill voice rung out into the silent night, bouncing across the stone walls and becoming a babbling audience of a thousand self-doubting Skylas. “I must be the long lost Element of Magic!”
“I don't see why it's untrue…you shouldn't doubt what you can do!”
“There are no Elements of Harmony, Kicheko. And we've come all this way, and you know what we're going to find out? There's no seventh Element of Friendship, either! There's no sudden solution! No unification of all the Elements into one final whole! Those tales about six heroes...they're just that! They're tales, reserved for silly, rhyming zebras who are too ignorant to doubt them!”
Once more the two fell into silence. Back in the tavern, the griffon had began playing the piano again, a boisterous, lively melody. From within, the sound of cheering griffons and joyous, drunken laughter could be heard.
“If don't believe of the Elements' final sacrifice, and you're content with this Equestria as your paradise...” Kicheko said cautiously. “Why do you share our quest? Sometimes you seem equally obsessed.”
“I could've left you peasants ages ago,” Skyla replied sharply. “You're thankful I haven't!”
“Yes! But you're not gone! You say you dislike us and yet you carry on!”
Skyla did not respond. Or rather, she did respond, but not with an answer to Kicheko's question.
“What's with the rhyming, zebra? Ever since I've met you it's ticked me off. Why do you do it?”
“I rhyme simply because traditionally, it's the zebra way. The same reason why you continue to stay.”
Skyla brought a hoof to her mane, straightening the soaked hair into a more presentable fashion. Then, she hung her head and laughed up at the rain, cackling like mad until streaks of tears joined the rain rushing down her face.
“Loyalty, now? First I'm Magic cause I'm a unicorn, now it's Loyalty! I swear, you're all so desperate for those damn Element stories to be true you say the stupidest things!” she hollered.
Kicheko laughed, too. Not because anything funny had been said, and not because of the strangeness of actually hearing the prissy unicorn actually, genuinely express her joy. Instead, she chuckled at the paradox behind Skyla's condemnation. She claimed herself to be so different from the figures of friendship in times past, so that the very idea of her being loyal was enough to send her into a mad swirl of joyous emotion.
And yet, there was no other reason for her to continue searching with them, searching for some magical sunrise that would bring forth new life for Equestria.
The Elements of Harmony. Perhaps, with the exception of the Element of Magic, they truly possessed them, as those brave ponies in her fairytales books had when they faced against the foes of the past; the tall black winged unicorn, or the freakish slithery beast with the mismatched appendages.
If this was true, it would still never be enough. It hadn't been, in the end, to save those heroes, and yet still Equestria had survived where they had not. There was something else, more than the Elements. And onwards they would continue searching, until they found it.
Honesty, Loyalty, Magic, Kindness, Generosity, and Laughter.
Together, it was friendship. And together, this friendship formed something else entirely.
Celestia brought a hoof to the bridge of her snout and looked down at Twilight, sitting on the floor and wearing a pouting frown.
"Twilight, for heavens sake."
"I don't wanna!"
"Pleeeeeease? For me?"
Twilight ignored her, refusing to break her pouting frown. "No! I don't wanna, and you can't make me."
"You only have to take two of them!"
"Uh uh."
"One?"
Twilight shook her head viciously. "I don't wanna," she said again.
"Your flu isn't going to go away until you take them! Do you want to be sick forever?"
Twilight broke her pouting expression and frowned introspectively, for several seconds.
Deciding her flu was infinitely more tolerable than the horrible tasting vitamin before her, she reassumed her childish and assertive stance.
"Yes."
Celestia let out a long sigh. "Twilight, this would perhaps be adorable if you were, like, three," Celestia said impatiently. "The fact of the matter is that you are approaching a hundred years old and yet I still have to force you to eat your vitamins."
"They taste gross though! Why didn't you get the gummy ones?"
"Because the prospect of giving a sugar-filled vitamin perplexes me," Celestia replied. She gave the jar of vitamins an encouraging shake. "But these ones look like dinosaurs! Look, a stegosaurus!"
"Don't patronize me, woman," Twilight grumbled, and violently wrenched the jar from Celestia with her magic.
"I'm only thinking of your health, my love."
"Well, you're giving me a headache."
"I will make you an ultimatum," Celestia said. "You take your vitamins, or no sexytimes tonight. I'm not making love to a leper."
"Stop saying that! It's just a flu!" Twilight protested. "Also what the heck! The Treaty of Verse-hay wasn't as harsh as that ultimatum!"
Begrudgingly, Twilight took to trying in vain to remove the cap from the jar of vitamins. She quickly became frustrated by the child-proof-lock and instead took to blasting the entire thing into ash with her magic.
"Oops," she said, frowning at the hunk of dust and gnarled plastic. Nary a single vitamin had survived her vicious assault. "Does this mean no sexytimes...?"
"Nah," Celestia shrugged. "It was an empty bluff."
Twilight Sparkle took a long sip of the harsh black coffee contained in a travel mug adorned in colourful little cartoony depictions of the Sun. Breathing out a sigh of relief as she felt the black magic of caffeine already starting to work its wonderous sorcery, she turned her attention to the unicorn mare trotting to meet her in the promenade of Canterlot Castle.
"Princess Twilight." She gave a curt bow.
"Raven, good morning," Twilight returned. "I came as fast as I could." She frowned. "Er, or. As fast as I could while still stopping at Marebucks on the way in."
"Of course, Princess Twilight," Raven replied. "It's... it's the Princess, you see. I did not want to be rude, but I fear something is... wrong, with her."
"Wrong?" Twilight rose an eyebrow, sipping her coffee again. "Is she okay?"
"Oh yes, nothing like that. But, well. You haven't read the tabloids, yet, I presume?"
Twilight shook her head. Hardly reading material that was her speed.
"Well, no matter." Raven shrugged. They were already at the enormous double doors leading into Celestia's throne room, regardless. "She's inside. Good luck, and goddess-speed, Twilight Sparkle. I fear you will need it for the endeavour to follow."
Twilight took a steely breath to prepare herself, and then pushed open the doors without hesitation.
"Twilight!" Celestia was alone in the throne room, and she greeted Twilight with her trademark warm smile and wing hug. But... something was different about her. Her mane, usually wavy and majestic, had been rearranged into a ponytail, and she had discarded her regalia in favour of a tartan scarf and a pair of lens-less glasses. "How is my darling bae doing?"
Twilight blinked. She had to twitch an ear to confirm she'd heard Celestia right, but replaying the moment in her brain and she knew she'd heard what she'd thought. "W-what?"
"I must say, that coffee smells divine AF, Twilight."
"What in Tartarus are you doing, Celestia?"
"Oh, me? I'm simply trying to jive more with the youth, Twilight! You see, Canterlot Daily put out a review of how, like, totally down to earth and stuff the Princesses are, and I was... admittedly somewhat tilted about where I ranked in the endeavour. So, I figured perhaps I should clap back with a more modern and relatable persona!"
"Sweet merciful Sunchips." Twilight breathed out, taking a long sip of her coffee to calm her misfiring nerves.
Celestia, however, continued on as though she hadn't heard what Twilight had said. "I mean, at first I was like, bruh, double-you-tee-eff! But then I realized that they were lowkey kinda based in their assessment of me. So... meet a new version of Princess Celestia who is absolutely fire!"
Twilight gawked. Of all the villains she'd encountered, all the friendship problems she had devoted herself to solving, never before had she come across something so horrific and unholy. "Princess, that is absolutely ridiculous."
Celestia blinked, her smile becoming forced. "It... it is?"
"It, like, so totally is." Twilight said, as bluntly as she could manage. "You do realize that those popularity polls are nonsense, right?"
"Well, perhaps, but ponies still read them. And I can't just be some royal untouchable relic to them."
"Well, uh, maybe not. But that doesn't mean you should change who you are, either. I mean, ponies like motherly, wise Celestia. If they wanted to take up their issues with a relatable valley girl instead... they'd, uh. Probably go visit Princess Cadance."
Celestia stifled a chuckle. "Okay, point taken."
Twilight spotted the aforementioned gossip mag stowed away beneath Princess Celestia's throne--the catalyst to such a horrific turn of her morning. She quickly levitated it over, holding it up for Celestia. "Now, as for you being 'fire'..."
Celestia tilted her head thoughtfully, before the thought clicked in her head. Lighting her own horn, she brought it to the gossip magazine.
And, in a flare of light, the unholy artifact was lit ablaze.
Changeling Theory: An Anaylsis on the Origin and Influence of the Equestrian Changeling
by Aster Blackwillow
When a pony is born into this world, they do not always enter it alone.
When a pony is first shunted out into the blinding chaos of this mortal life, there is a chance that another life enters alongside them. Unseen by onlooking midwives or parents, distracted as they are, it creeps out from the shadow of a new life’s gift. As a young filly cries out in confusion, and in terror… as the thread connecting them to the bliss of the womb is severed, this second life enters the world silently. Calmly. It scans the blinding light of the world not with the fear of its twin, but with an insatiable, hungry greed.
And, quickly, crawling upon motes of dust, or within the veil of shadows, this creature slinks away into the world unseen.
This creature does not journey far. It watches from the glints of light just outside of our peripheral gaze. It perches in every dark corner of the room, driven by the same hunger it has felt since entering this life. It is the glimmer of movement one can never be quite certain they truly saw. It stalks its twin, never seen, but often felt by any lonely soul who might find themselves watched from within an empty room. And though a floorboard may creak, or a light breeze may send a curtain on a slight wayward wave, its twin will eventually sigh, or laugh to themselves for their foolishness, and turn away once more to their own mortal distractions.
And safely hidden, the creature will continue to wait in silence.
There will one day come a time in this pony’s life when the creature will cease its waiting. Sometimes, it will spend decades stalking its twin from the peripheral. Watching as its twin grows, and learns to navigate the strange world they share. The creature perhaps learning, too, of the world it can never truly inhabit by its own hooves. Other times, however, the creature’s patience endures moments, and it strikes at the same moment the infant enters the world. Perhaps the infernal wailing of its twin is enough to drive it into action. Perhaps it simply does not care enough about its world to bother learning how to inhabit it. The desires of the creature seem as inexplicable as the very nature of its being.
When this creature’s patience ends, so too does the life of its twin.
And, so too, does the creature’s own life begin anew.
Around them the world carries on uninterrupted. Nary a leaf rustled, nary the sound of a hoof scuffing against the ground. From dust the creature has emerged, and to dust its twin returns. And from the same pony’s eyes the creature looks out at the life it had been watching. A faint glint of green may shimmer in its irises, for but a moment, perhaps indistinguishable from a simple trick of the light.
Of course, changes will thus occur. The lives that the twin has known may notice a change in behaviour. Depending on how patient the creature has been, these changes may not be detected for years, if at all. Slight altercations to attitude, to preferences, to interests, and nothing more.
Or, the changes may be dramatic. To the friends of the creature’s twin—madness. If the creature has chosen to strike the infant foal, then no change will ever have truly occured to anypony but the foal themselves.
But at the moment of the hunt, nothing has truly changed to the outside world. For nopony has seen the creature strike.
A pony’s hoof has entered the world, and the creature’s hooves will continue the pony’s stride without a missed beat.
And into the world, fueled by the same calm precision that had framed its waiting, The Changeling emerges.
It was somewhat funny, Celestia thought, how poor her writing truly was.
None of her assistants would have admitted it, of course, they wouldn't have even thought to. As far as they were concerned, the style of her writing was simply a call to change, and they would obey with a smile. Like her sometimes embarrassing manework and dress choices, she was some strange causality that so many ponies sought to work around—a bygone relic masquerading as a leader into the unknown.
Celestia was not quite sure it mattered to her. The letter, for what it's worth, could have been written for a child, for all the contents it had contained.
Luna, please come back. I said I was sorry.
She had stared at the words for a long time. Longer than she supposed was healthy, for what sane mare expected a reply when the years had passed and the means had burned to ash long ago? She had written them in a flurry of emotion, taking no time to think back on them, no time to think on consequences or outcomes. Luna had always chided her for overthinking like that when action was required, and so it seemed only right to obey her this time.
The days were longer now.
Celestia was glad. She was tired of those years of near-eternal night, and those sad, taunting stars.
Were her friends out there? She had used to wonder, but the question had gone unanswered for so long that she did not quite know why it mattered.
It was just her and the Sun now, and that strange stubborn fear that straying too far from it's light would bring. For a mare whose heart burned for discovery, Celestia was often surprised how terrifying a world of uncharted darkness seemed to be for her.
The buildings around her were still as she had left them. Everything still stood as it was meant to be, even if it did not matter much to anypony but her. Why would she want to leave what had been keeping her safe for so long? Why would let go of the only thing that hadn't left her?
Because the rest of them already have, she reasoned. Hardly fair of you to blame them for leaving you when they're the ones who begged you to follow.
It was true, and she hadn't ever really doubted it.
Luna had been the first to go.
Celestia had seen it coming... after so much had changed, less of it mattered. Time had stretched their togetherness until it was no longer there and it was all around, and neither quite knew where to go.
The day Luna had finally left, Celestia had not been afraid.
She had been relieved, for Luna had finally done the one thing she never would have had to confidence to do first.
Cadance had asked for answers, and when Celestia's explanations failed, she could only ask again. Their talks had become a feedback loop—a little worst each time, until finally Cadance's exhaustion drove her into the same trough as Luna.
But at least her niece had said farewell.
Celestia had been patient, but when the Moon's orbit finally collapsed, dragging the celestial body before Equestria's sky like a cosmic vivisection, she had finally conceded. A quill in her glow, she finally sought to break their silence.
And nopony seemed to have heard her.
Twilight had been the last to go.
Celestia had already forgotten why she had stayed so long.
If Celestia rested her hoof on the cobblestone streets, she could swear that Equus was shaking.
The logical part of her reminded her that it was. It was indeed shaking. It was a ball of earth being rapidly pulled through space around a cooling ball of flame.
Of course it would shake a little bit.
If the days were growing colder, they did so too slowly for her to care. Celestia did not notice the day it had begun, for it had always been happening—so slowly, that she hadn't been paying enough attention.
As Equus cooled and the shaking continued to grow, Celestia found herself unable to ignore it any more. Not when bits of the cobblestone streets and roots of ancient trees had begun to desecrate her familiar world.
It hadn't felt desperate when she had begun, for what harm was there in casting some magic every once in a blue moon to keep things in order?
What harm was there in keeping it aglow when she had no use for it?
What harm was there in devoting herself to something that mattered?
When she had first found her favourite spot, rooted at the peak of Canterlot Mountain, her magic spindly tendrils stretched forever, she had smiled.
Equestria was still here. She just needed a bit more of her help, and he had always known it would.
That grouchy old draconequus really had been good at fortunes.
The final days with Twilight had been the worst.
Celestia couldn't pretend she had seen it coming—she had been too firmly grasping to the hopes that things would stay the same, that the prospect of change could not be.
She couldn't remember the signs. She remembered that Twilight had yelled, but she couldn't recall what about.
How could something that had meant so much to her then be so lost to her now?
Celestia was growing tired of failing.
She had been trying for so long, and she had been succeeding! But now, as more and more of Equus drifted out of her grasp and into empty space, it was clear to her that she had underestimated eternity's endurance.
She had continued to try for too long, and eventually, she had lost. She had felt her horn begin to crack, and over the course of a year it had only spread across the delicate thing.
Her hold on Equus collapsed more and more. She lost so much, and when her horn finally flickered out, Equus was left helpless.
The planet's destruction, now left unimpeded, had overtaken swiftly. In hours, the last surviving chunks of Luna's Moon were joined by the great structures of a world now extinct. The colours of earth and space blended as they faded into the distance, and Celestia could do no more than watch through teary eyes.
Celestia had watched the last of Equus's collapse from the cosmos. The air had become dirt and dust and ash, and she could no longer see, and so she had taken flight until the planet had begun to curve. She left the immediate violence behind in favour of the mighty sight of her home's collapse.
It had taken years, but Celestia couldn't even blink. It was beautiful and transfixing to her thoughtless and purposeless mind.
The Sun would take a while longer, but Celestia wondered if she had reason to stay for it's fall, too.
She had risen the Sun for Equus. Now, Equus was gone. Was there reason to stay any longer?
Celestia pursed her lips. Perhaps tomorrow, she would think on it.
“...and then, of course, you have Oakey Anneigh... she once hit--”
“Oh goodness, Oakey!” Celestia couldn’t help it, a little chuckle escaped her as she interrupted Twilight’s lecture for the first time that evening. “You have her on there, too?”
Twilight’s notepad lowered, and she glanced back at Celestia. They were walking down a winding path of the Whitetail Woods, where to, Celestia hadn’t bothered specifying. A little picnic, while the two had the time to spare it. What could be better?
“Knew her, too?” Twilight scratched off a name from the notepad in her magic. “Damn it. You’re three for three on these.”
“Not yet I’m not. Ask the trivia point.”
Twilight snickered. “Fine. Reminisce after, trivia now.” Her eyes returned to the notepad. “Ahem! Oakey Anneigh, a sharpshooter from Dodge Junction, once shot THIS object from the back of a stage coach, making her the first pony to ever do so!”
“An apple! The show-off!” Celestia chimed back, and took a pre-emptive swig of her canteen in victory. “Goodness, she was incredible. She did a show in Canterlot way back when, and I just had to seek her out after."
“Alright, alright, that’s three for three. Show-off.” Twilight flicked her trail at Celestia, who laughed herself. “Never would’ve taken you to have an interest in gunslingers, of all ponies.”
“Oh, please. Because of the Princess thing?” Celestia looked almost offended. “I can respect the skill when it's due, Twilight.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Twilight broke off into light chuckles, re-consulting her notepad and checking something else off within. “Well, looks like I’ve got my trivia down pat. Good.”
“Yes, you shall be well-armed if either Rainbow or Applejack assault you with unprompted gunslinger trivia, I’m sure.”
“Hey, it might happen!”
“It very well might!" Celestia nodded. Knowing Rainbow and Applejack herself, it was hardly impossible. They were the competitive type. “No longer nervous then?”
“Of going to the rodeo with them?” Twilight waved a hoof. “Nahhh. It’s just sharpshooting! Anypony can do it with enough practice!”
“Indeed. And if they ask you if you want to try?”
“Woah woah, hey. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Twilight returned, waving a hoof. “I’m just there to watch them! They invited me, after all!”
“Oh come now. You’re going to at least try it once. When are you going to get this chance again?”
“Ugh, I want to, but they’re just so, so... noisy!” Twilight squeaks a little at the mere thought, a little shiver snaking through her form. “And they kick? What’s up with that? What does that even mean?”
“A truly intriguing question, and one that only research can help us with!” Celestia poked her head into her saddlebag, and promptly returned with an ornate case...
“Hey, is that where you used to keep the elements of harmo--”
Twilight broke off as Celestia withdrew a loaded six-shot revolver proudly in her telekinesis, proudly adorning her cutiemark lovingly engraved on.
“We’re here!” Celestia announced.
Twilight stopped in her steps. Ahead of them, the path winded into a clearing, and she gawked as soon as she saw what awaited them.
Targets were proudly emblazoned on several trees at varying distances through the clearing. The arrangement wasn’t exact, but a quick run of mental math told Twilight they were around 25 meters, 50, and 100 respectively.
“...You can’t be serious.”
“You want to show off in front of your daredevil friends, don’t you?”
“No I don’t! I’m just interested in, in... like you said! The skill part of it!”
“Twilight. The mare said you were too much of a ‘scaredy pony’.” Celestia gave her a knowing smirk. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a bit of a showoff.”
“Well, but, that’s just Rainbow being Rainbow!” Twilight stomped a hoof on the ground.
"...But you still want to show off to her a little bit, don't you? Wipe that smug look off her face?"
Twilight looked up at Celestia, a small pout on her face. "...Maybe a little bit."
Good day, my little ponies. I hope this letter is finding you well... as well as one can be while still shaking off the last remants of stress and fear that have no doubt framed the past few weeks. It has been a trying time in a nation that, by time this letter reaches you, I can no longer call my own.
By time this letter has been sent, I will already be aboard an airship with my dear sister, leaving my old home of Canterlot behind. Not something I would have envisioned any quill of mine claiming any time soon, but it is with cautious anticipation that I look forwards to this next chapter in my life.
And yet, opening another chapter in one's life carries with it a sort of bittersweet undertone. It requires closing another one, and saying farewell to it for as far as our interpretation of our futures may carry. As I walk through the quieted halls of the Canterlot Palace, these bittersweet emotions only grow stronger. The more that they envelop me, the more I know I must pen them down before I say goodbye to this old castle.
I owe the seven of you ponies (and dragon!) a level of thanks that I don't believe any letter of mine could sufficiently express. But I will do my best to regardless. This letter is meant to be read by all of you, together. Attached are separate, more personal letters, for each of you to read at whatever level of privacy you so desire. Nonetheless, this letter and the statements within are intended for what I believe to be the strongest and most inspiring group of friends ponies I have ever met in my nearly-three thousand years of life.
You have spread kindness to corners of Equestria I never would have imagined our hooves even touching. You have taken ponies who would have done unspeakable things to this nation for selfish gain, and offered them friendship when none others would. You have helped eachother overcome the impossible, and have helped eachother grow beyond your and my wildest dreams.
There was a point in time about a decade and a half ago when my heart felt so much colder than it does now. The idea that I would ever be penning words with so much earnestness and passion would have been foreign to me then. The Princess Celestia of those times was one who looked to her own future with fear and worry, because she did not know what lay there, and knew not if she would be alone in facing it.
The thousandth anniversary of Nightmare Moon's banishment was rapidly approaching. Every year for the final century, I watched the years creep closer and closer. Sand in an hourglass that to anypony else would have seemed infinite, but to me it was time rapidly speeding by. And that time was time spent worrying of what might come. I was so eager to see my sister again, but the closer it came to her return, the more I feared what would come of her return. I knew she would despise me. I knew that the time that had passed for me would not have passed for her. The fury that had motivated her to strike at me a thousand years ago would be rekindled once again. And I didn't wish to face her. I knew that whatever fate she had decided for me would be the one I would accept. If she would have desired to end my life on the Thousandth Year Anniversary of the Summer Sun Celebration, then I would have died on that day. I could never fight her a second time. I could never have that strength or that weakness a second time.
But time does not care for such worries. It crept closer, and I knew that the time for me to die might be approaching.
And then, a miracle happened. Over lunch, no less. From the windows of Canterlot Palace, a mighty light of every colour had exploded across the skies of Equestria. A discharge of Harmony Magic never before or since recorded had erupted over the skies of Cloudsdale that day.
And mere minutes after it had, I first laid eyes on the pony now stepping into the hoof-shoes I am leaving behind.
Every day after that one was one where hope and happiness has gradually thawed whatever my heart had become over a thousand years divided from my dear sister. Suddenly, the Thousandth Anniversary of her vanishment was no longer a date to fear. It was a date to look towards with growing anticipation.
From the sidelines, I watched. I watched as the conduits of that incredible burst of Harmony Magic grew. I watched a brave and foolish young pegasus flier start to dream of one day becoming a legend to inspire other starry-eyed foals and fillies like herself. I watched as a shy and brave filly left the clouds behind to form friendships with the voiceless creatures of this land, and through doing so show them that they would never have to fear being alone.
I watched two starry-eyed earth ponies, feeling trapped in torpor, realize that their hearts did not have to travel far to grow. I watched as they learned that sometimes the closest and most important friends are the ones we are born with, and that every parent needs their foals as much as their foals need them. I watched a beautiful heart as it grew to become a generous one. As she learned that beauty is best shared, and that there is no greater joy than that of giving.
And... I watched as a nervous filly grew into a nervous young mare. So frightened of herself, of others. Of disappointing. But her pursuit of friendship and of knowledge was stronger than those fears, and with the friendships she had made, she continued to grow past them into the mare she is now.
To say I am proud of you seven is not enough. To say I hope to one day be as strong or as wise or as kind as any single one of you is a hope I imagine much of Equestria shares. You have inspired me to be a better leader for my nation. You have inspired me to be a better sister. I have grown so much from the lessons you have learned and shared, and I know I am not alone. You are the seven best ponies (and dragon!) in my life and I am so grateful to have met you.
