The Eternal Flame and the Ocean Depths
Most ponies of the city thought Sunset Shimmer, devotee of the sun, master of magic, and seeker of the strange and the sublime, was a pyromaniac.
It was a hard impression to dispel if one ever saw her private quarters. Yellows, oranges, reds, and pinks – the colours of the phoenix – zigzagged and slashed and twisted and curved across the walls and carpet and bedsheets. Whereas anything normal was hidden under the bed or in the wardrobe, out on display was all the paraphernalia a budding fire worshipper needed. Including matches.
There were the two worship mats rolled up in the corner. One was dark and plain, the better to represent the Pyre of dead fire. One was bright and burst with decoration, the better to represent the Ignite of living fire.
There was the fire tapestry – a replica of the original, obviously, else it wouldn’t fit in the room, never mind on the wall – depicting all the venerated ponies of flame. The ironsmith stallion Hephaestus, Fire of the Forge and Industry. The maiden mare Hestia, Fire of the Hearth and Home. Ponies of anger and ponies of drive and ponies of comfort and ponies of dancing beauty. All represented on that one simple tapestry.
And in one corner, a tiny hearth, with a tiny flame.
Sunset burst into the room. She was immediately greeted by the window, ablaze with the distant oranges and purple smoke of a real sunset. City spires and towers appeared like chimneys against the natural blaze. So fierce were the colours in their war against the room’s own silent pyrotechnics that she was briefly surprised to open her wardrobe and find normal dresses, not aflame.
She selected a white dress. Then she picked up the matches. It was time.
Of the two worship mats, she selected the dark and plain Pyre of dead fire. Perfect before bedtime, though she wasn’t feeling particularly sleepy tonight.
On her way past the tapestry, white dress rustling about her, she stopped and isolated the pony of choice for bedtime. She rolled out the mat and kneeled on all fours, bowing her head low.
And before her, the tiny hearth, with its tiny flame.
The eternal flame. An old friend of hers. A flame that she’d received upon her admittance into the Devotee of Suns. It was never allowed to go out. At once, it was the memorial to all the previous devotees who had kept it burning in her stead. When she struck the match, she kept their spirits alive. When she fed it with kindling, she denied the darkness for another day.
But it was more than just a memorial to some dead ponies. It was the fire of purity, the divine element, ethereal and mysterious beyond the simple solids and liquids and gases of the physical world. A thing in its own right, its flames striving ever upwards, never being polluted. The power of life and death in a little light.
As usual, she recited her oath and then slid into bed, burning defiantly through the darkness of another night. This room was her sanctuary alone.
That night, a full moon shone down on Sea Swirl. Perfect for what she had in mind.
She’d left Sunset’s home and now wandered through the midnight streets of the city. Occasionally, she bumped into late-night ponies and apologized before she soon drifted back into sky-watching.
Wandering and wondering like this: it was in her nature. Years ago, she’d wandered to find her song, the one thing that would connect her to the realm of spirits for good and make her a true shaman. She loved songs, she loved wandering, but sadly she knew she wouldn’t get to be a shaman by listening to Coloratura’s latest chart-topper.
Then, long ago, one day on the beach, over what felt like a lifetime, she’d heard the dolphins sing back. The cutie mark on her flank appeared: two dolphins gambolling freely. Thus had begun her shaman ways.
Instead, she wandered further and further away from the skyscrapers and spires, out where the lampposts thinned and the roads had few horseless carriages, and there were no primitive steam trains smoking up the sky. Now the stars shone down unimpeded.
Beyond the row of houses, down the shadowed wall, over the crunching sand, she finally came to the swash and hiss of the ocean waves. Only the shimmering reflection of the moon hinted at anything existing before her, such was the oblivion of midnight.
Sea Swirl imagined the waves whispering her name. Sea… Swirl… Sea… Swirl… Names were important to shamans, just like cutie marks. A shaman, like the sea itself, carried many souls, and one of those was the name-soul, and another of those was the cutie-mark-soul, and she also had the soul of the song, which gave her such power. And of course, the body soul, which had walked her here and was starting to feel a bit tired and peckish right about now…
Tonight, no one else was at the beach. Well, no one except for that distant couple she could hear giggling over the waves, but they sounded a little too preoccupied to bother her at the moment. Secrecy would be upheld.
It had to be. Like the sea, a shaman had to be mysterious and deep. Ponies watching would put her off her magic a bit.
So in secret, she sang the song as silently as she could. Then she switched from one song to another song so she could uphold the division between the secret spirits she had to placate and the secret spells she had to cast.
Overhead, the moon shone, pulling and pushing the ocean waves as though to caress and massage a lover. It wasn’t just secrecy that made the dark night so useful.
Onward, she sang. The healing spell rose up inside her, flooding her mind with soothing balms, sloshing against the warmth of her cutie mark as though dampening a campfire on the beach. She sang of the sea ponies, of shamans, of ocean guardians and moons and tides and earthquakes and the hunt for the treasures of the deep. She sang of life, of the boundary between animals and ponydom, of how it could be washed away so that dolphin and devotee, marlin and master, squid and sooth-seeker, blurred like rain on a windowpane.
She sang until the healing spell washed up to her ears inside her, and then she stopped. In the darkness, in the distance, dolphins squeaked and chattered.
“And a happy night to you too!” she shouted, waving at the sound.
The giggling couple stopped. Sea Swirl slipped away before any embarrassment could catch up to her.
Sunrise: the antithesis of sunset, and yet its mirror image, full of the same colours and blazing beauty. A new day ignited, here in the city of Kuda.
A new date, too.
It… was not going well.
“Gutterball,” said Sea Swirl beside her.
Sunset Shimmer winced as the red bowling ball hit the groove, and then she groaned as it went right past the ten pins.
“That was just a practice run,” she said.
“It’s OK. Nopony gets it first time, after all.”
Dully, Sunset watched the clanking, rolling, crashing balls in the other lanes. If it was up to her, she wouldn’t even be here, but Sea Swirl got to pick venues this time. The two of them alternated. It had been Sunset’s own rule: all in the interests of fair play, of course. They had to be equals.
Sea Swirl crouched before her blue ball, one eye open and furiously staring at the ten pins.
After a minute or so, Sunset rolled her own eyes. “Are you doing this, or not?”
“Relax,” said Sea Swirl without looking up. “I got this.”
Only after another minute did she kick.
Pins crashed.
Grimacing, Sunset looked up at the display. “Strike,” she said. “Again,” she added.
“Ha, yeah, I still got it!” Sea Swirl sat down, horn aglow, and levitated the plastic cup for a quick sip. “Ah, isn’t this lovely? You know, before I met you, I used to come here every day for some peace and quiet. Bowling is a very calming sport.”
Another crash of pins came from the lane next to them. Someone’s family cheered and hollered. Bells rang out to celebrate the win. Confetti rained down from the ceiling.
“Peace and quiet,” said Sunset. “Right.”
“You tune it out after a while. It’s the ambience. Ponies love coming here, and I love that ponies love things!”
“I know. You keep telling me.”
For a moment, Sea Swirl gave her a suspicious look. “Huh?”
“And I already know about you coming here every day, because you keep going on about it.”
“I do?”
Sunset smirked at her. “Come on, whose memory do you trust here: mine or yours?”
“I could’ve sworn…”
“Maybe when you’re not head-in-the-clouds all the time, you’d remember stuff like that.”
A passing unicorn nodded to them. “Hey, Sea Swirl. Nice day for a bowl, huh?”
“Hiya, Pinny! Sure is!” Sea Swirl waved back so hard she knocked her drink out of the air. “That was Pinny Lane,” she said to Sunset. “She was part of my –”
“Part of your championship team,” recited Sunset. “You kept getting nothing but strikes all the way to the final before you got distracted and ended up gutterballing. You had to do a hard spare to make up, and that lost you the game.”
Sea Swirl blinked at her in surprise. “How did you –?”
“Know? My memory isn’t made of swiss cheese, Sea Swirl.”
“Oh.” After some thought, Sea Swirl added, “It was only one ball. Could’ve happened to anyone.”
Sunset rose and stretched all fours, catlike. “I think I’ve had enough of bowling. Let’s get a snack. I missed breakfast.”
“Oh… OK…?”
As they walked over to the snack bar, weaving between stick-thin stools and stick-thin tables, Sunset’s magic idly curled and uncurled a lock of her own mane, giving the impression of springy fire. She felt the slight simmer of several surreptitious glances at the back of her neck. A few ponies here had come from the university, just like her. That meant they knew her. All too well.
They took a table near the door, as though ready to bolt any second. Sunset kept her head down and concentrated on chewing her egg roll. She didn’t listen to Sea Swirl’s chatter; often it was enough to nod and go “uh huh, uh huh, right, right, uh huh…”
“…and then the mare sitting opposite me pretended to listen,” finished Sea Swirl.
“Uh huh, right.” Then the words registered; Sunset looked up to an arch eyebrow and a sneaking grin. “Oh. Sorry, Sea Swirl. My mind’s on other things right now.”
Irritated, Sunset found her gaze drifting towards the ponies looking at her from one table over. She forced herself to look down and eat more egg. Such was her concentration that she got bits of it over her cheeks and lips.
Sea Swirl’s chair creaked and her hoof patted Sunset’s own. “If it helps, I topped up my healing magic last night. I could easi–”
“Not right now, thanks.” Sunset took another bite. Some pains were best left alone. It would just be treating the symptoms, not the cause.
Her gaze drifted again to the staring ponies –
“Ignore them.” Sea Swirl’s face was ice. “They don’t have all the facts.”
“But if I’d acted differently –”
“And now you can. And do. I believe in second chances.” The ice melted, softening around the edges. “You’re sure you don’t want a healing spell? I could soothe the pain for a little while.”
Sunset waved her off. After that, she focused more on Sea Swirl’s face, rather than on the whispering voices behind it.
“Thanks anyway. I’ll figure things out.” Sunset went in for another bite of her roll.
Sea Swirl’s smile surfaced. “Well, you know I’m here if you need me.”
“Maybe later. In private.”
A wink. “Gotcha.”
From afar, another burst of cheer and rain of confetti cut through the low-grade hubbub of the snack bar. Sunset shifted uncomfortably, wondering why the seats had to be so thin you could topple over. In any case, it wasn’t just the physical discomfort. Several nearby ponies whispered her name, just within her earshot.
I’ll show them, she thought. And I’ll prove them wrong MY way.
“I don’t know how you can stand this,” murmured Sunset while more whispered rumours drilled through her ears and pride. “They’re whispering about you too.”
“I know,” murmured Sea Swirl back, giggling. “It’s kind of exciting. You’re an exciting pony to be around, Sunset. All those amazing adventures you’ve tackled! Why, I don’t think I’ve had this much fun in ages.”
Deep down, Sunset resisted the urge to laugh. “It’s just what I do.”
“And how! Whoa, I wish I had half your energy and drive. See, that’s what I like about you, Sunset. Just take this upcoming dive, for instance. I don’t think I would even have considered it without you gunning for it so hard.”
Guilt cringed inside Sunset. Once more, she curled her lock of mane. “Yeah… about that… I’ve got some notes to peruse… back at university… related… to that…”
One week ago, University of Kuda
The University of Kuda, the city’s greatest educational establishment, home of magic, and five-times winner of the Most Grandiose Architectural Award: its buildings surrounded Sunset like a mountain range with tenure. Over there, the clock tower of Sleipnir rang its bell. Across the plaza, students galloped to various lectures. The rainbow flowers of an over-avid gardener lined the crisscrossing paths while she made her way towards the Imperial College.
Every time, no matter how many times, she swept her gaze over the reception hall, the corridors inside, the marble columns rich with veins, the bronze rails and finishes bright as sunlight under the lamps, and the endless portraits of faculty long passed. Crimson was everywhere, as though the entire building were at a nice, comfortable temperature.
Into this comfortable world she imagined herself: Archchancellor Shimmer, maybe, with her own portrait. Or as Professor Shimmer, carved into the marble over the main entrance, an honour reserved for only the greatest of alumni.
Keenly, she rapped her hoof against the door, then didn’t even wait for a summons before barging in.
“All right!” she said, striding over to the guest’s chair at once. “Let’s get this started!”
Opposite, after some blinking, the archchancellor graced her with a smile. “My, my, someone’s eager.”
“Of course, Celestia – I mean, Archchancellor.” Sunset bowed her head low. “Oh, apologies for barging in. I was given to understand you wanted me here ASAP.”
The archchancellor chuckled, her mane undulating under the sheer raw power which even now seemed to bleach and glow through her pristine coat. “Not quite so ASAP, I daresay. But no matter. One can hardly criticize a mage for showing such exceptional spirit.”
Deep in the recesses of her heart, Sunset grinned at the shadows. You hear that? Exceptional spirit. Who can argue with the archchancellor?
After all, not just anyone got an audience with the finest unicorn – winged too! – of the University of Kuda. A mare of her standing and advanced reputation had higher concerns to deal with, even if one restricted those to just the material concerns.
While not a governmental figure herself, Celestia liaisoned with the official rulers so often – usually on magical matters and one or two international issues – that she was unofficially the greatest single power the city didn’t recognize but sorta kinda allowed because hey, she’d been around, she knew some stuff. Unicorns of such power tended to have a… curious relationship with the rest of the city.
So to be called up by Celestia, the archchancellor herself, even once was a high honour. But Sunset had the report sheet to back it up. She’d been called up several times. Every single one had usually resulted in her venturing to fantastical realms, mixing with strange if sometimes over-the-top ponies, braving mind games or tricky challenges, and heading back to the city wondering why anyone would want to sit in an office shuffling paper all day.
After all this time, after all that had happened, Celestia still trusted her. Her.
Sunset shook herself back into the present and straightened up. “Yes, Archchancellor,” she said, hoping this answer met whatever had just been said to her.
Celestia lowered her teacup. “I asked if you wanted jasmine tea or oolong.”
“Oh.” Sunset’s face burned; she turned it towards the hunched phoenix in the deskside cage. “Uh… Jasmine, please.”
Infuriatingly, several minutes cooled while Celestia laboriously poured the tea, stirred the tea, sprinkled some herbs over the tea, raised it reverentially, blew on it gently, sniffed it, blew on it again, and only then started sipping it… which went on for a long time…
Sunset just downed hers. A little spell distributed the scalding heat painlessly.
“To business?” she said at once.
“You know,” said Celestia with a patience that made Sunset want to claw something. “Some of the greatest experiences in life are best enjoyed… slowly.” She began another sipping.
She breathed out, full of contentment.
She sipped again.
Sunset drummed her hooves on the chair as furtively as she could; this was Celestia she was talking to, after all. A careless mage could lose marks for appearing too impatient.
Finally, Celestia lowered her cup, the china clinking. “I sense you’re not to be delayed any longer. As you wish. And, as you’ve doubtless surmised, I want you to perform another great service as a devotee of fire magic. Although this one will prove a little unorthodox…”
Small wisps of steam rose up from Celestia’s empty cup. One slender forelimb waved over them, and she had them swirling and weaving in mid-air. Sunset recognized a heat-shifting charm driving the currents, unnaturally, creating shapes.
Sunset watched the grey symbol emerge from the wisps and shapes. The thrill of memory, the pride of her own quick thinking… Both struck her like a match.
“Everlasting Fire,” said Sunset. She licked her lips.
“The Everlasting Fire. It has burned continually, aflame since the beginning of time, impervious to water or airlessness. The sun itself is ephemeral next to this pure power.”
“You want me to find it?” Sunset shot to her hooves, chair scraping behind her. That would shut them up. That would shut everypony up: delivering the one true flame from which all others were descended. HER! Proving she was worthy! A higher honour could never be conceived –
“We’ve already found it,” said Celestia, and she signalled for Sunset to sit down. “Unfortunately for us, its location is… awkward, shall we say? Especially for a devotee of fire. No, Sunset: this is not a mission you can complete on your own.”
“Why? I’ve faced plenty of tough terrain in my time.” Sunset grinned and bowed again. “Um. Archchancellor, ma’am.” To her consternation, she heard a doubtful hum. “But Celest– Archchancellor! I’ve been from the north pole to the south, I’ve crossed deserts, sabotaged coups, rescued POWs –”
“All within your elemental purview,” said Celestia, turning to the hunched phoenix in its cage. “This time, you’ll need a water specialist.”
“Water…?”
“My sources tell me the Everlasting Fire is at the bottom of the sea.”
“No problem!” said Sunset hurriedly. “I can solve that on my –”
“Not on your own.” Celestia stood up, and for once Sunset was a child again, staring up the white slopes of a mountain too bleak and frigid to cross. “I insist.”
Anger flared inside Sunset. “But you can trust me! I swear you can –”
Gentle hooves rested on Sunset’s shoulders. The desperate fire flailing inside her chest stopped roaring and whipping the air. It settled instead to a crackling flicker.
“Trust is not the issue,” said Celestia. “Neither is ability. Sunset Shimmer, this is no small errand. The flame represents all that fire devotees have longed for, both culturally and in its sheer magical power. We could study it and revolutionize the field of flame magic. You understand that. But first of all, you’ll have to venture where few other ponies have ever dared set hoof, into a world too alien and unforgiving to visit lightly. I understand this may provide some fundamental challenges to you, given your specialty. But I entrust you to retrieve the fire because I know you can do it.”
Sunset opened her mouth to object. Under the rising tide of words, however, she had no breath to draw on, no terra firma on which to firmly place her hooves, no fuel to burn.
Besides, she couldn’t risk saying anything to turn Celestia against her. She had few allies as it was.
“Yes, Archchancellor,” she said. “Thank you, Archchancellor.”
“I think ‘Celestia’ will suffice for now,” said Celestia, returning to her seat. A file hit the desk. “The details I’ve included here, for your perusal. By the way…” She licked her lips, winking. “Would you like to finish your tea first? I’d hate to see such a fine brew go to waste.”
Sunset pushed the cup over and headed out with the file floating beside her, ignoring the sips from behind. No point dillydallying. A true fire devotee got to work at once. She didn’t waste time on tea.
“More tea?” said Sea Swirl over the humming noise, three hours after bowling.
Sunset shook her head. She watched Sea Swirl unscrew the lid of the flask and summon a curling thread of brown liquid. Then they jolted; Sea Swirl grimaced and hastily screwed the lid back on.
Turning away, Sunset leaned both forelimbs against the side of the jolting boat. Falling far behind, the silver spires of the city of Kuda gleamed like polish in the afternoon sun. Further down, she saw the black slit that had been the harbour, and further along was the bleached beach.
Salty air swirled through Sunset’s mane, whispering of adventure beyond the blue horizon. She’d never been happy hanging around the university. No, this hooves-on approach was her life, basking under the sun’s spotlight, imagining Celestia watching her with indulgent eye, shivering under the rush of blood and the pumping ecstasy punching through her ribs…
Nothing was going to stand in her way. Or swim in it. She’d show them. She’d show them all who they were dealing with.
“OK, Captain,” she said, turning at the sound of clunking hooves at the helm. “This should be the spot.”
One bespectacled eye glared at her. The other was behind – of course – an eyepatch. Nevertheless, he immediately cut the engines. Slowly, the humming noise dulled to nothing, and the warping waves slapped against the hull.
“Thank you,” said Sunset, trying to sound as gracious as Celestia and even throwing in a bow for good measure.
The captain’s glare did not abate. “You might put on airs, Miss Shimmer,” he muttered. “But don’t think because the archchancellor forgives easily, the rest of us will. We both know what you really are. So don’t try that act on me.”
To Sunset, it was like being tripped. The captain clunked his way further along the ship.
“I didn’t –” she began.
“Ah, don’t mind him,” said Sea Swirl in-between gulps. “He’s always cranky.” Only once she’d put the flask away did Sea Swirl begin dancing on the spot. “Ooh, I can’t help it I-can’t-help-it! This is gonna be spectacular! A mission, an actual underwater mission, ohmygosh ohmygosh!”
“Whoa, Sea Swirl!” Sunset laughed despite herself, and the captain’s glare washed away from memory. “Relax. It’s just another retrieval. Nothing fancy.”
“But!” Sea Swirl jumped forwards and wedged her head between Sunset’s jawline and collar, so tight was her shoulder-scraping hug. “But, but, but this time, THIS time we get to do it together-oh-it’s-gonna-be-cool-gonna-rock-so-HARD!”
Under the crushing embrace, Sunset choked. Then she grunted and stumbled as Sea Swirl released her, grabbed her forelimb, and dragged her around to the portside, hooves clunking on the deck.
“And what could be more fun than equipment checking on the buddy system!?” Sea Swirl sang, she was so giddy. “Oh, the things you can do underwater!”
Even the blush burned across Sunset’s cheeks. Weakly, she tried to prize her forelimb free of Sea Swirl’s grip.
Beneath them lay the crumpled diving set. One scuba tank blazed with fire highlights that Sea Swirl, in her inexplicable wisdom, had determined Sunset must wear. The other was a pretty drab grey. Sunset tried her best to disentangle the wires, padded jackets, strings, and round watch-like reader-device-thingies from the complete mess. It was proving a bit tricky.
Sea Swirl picked up pieces and twirled Sunset round. Something heavy landed on Sunset’s back, almost crippling her.
“We’re using closed circuit rebreathers so as not to make all those big bubbles!” Sea Swirl tightened a strap; Sunset felt cut in half for a split-second and cried out. “Don’t wanna bother the poor local wildlife. And –” she pressed something over Sunset’s face “– a full face mask. Easier to keep the pressure inside and outside equalized while breathing. Trust me, you don’t want to get barotrauma again, do you Sunset?”
“I’m a fully qualified diver, thank you!” Sunset’s voice sounded tinny behind the dome of the mask. She could hear her own breathing like a mechanical release of steam.
“Yes, yes, I know,” said Sea Swirl. Nevertheless, she tightened the straps of the jacket that itched and chafed against Sunset’s skin. “Now this is a buoyancy stabilizer jacket. It’ll automatically use the air you breathe to adjust for buoyancy, so don’t flap so much if you wanna stay still for a bit, OK?”
“Sea Swirl, please…” A metal watch-like device tightened on her wrist, almost cutting off circulation and numbing her leg.
“This is your Scuba Dive Computer, with depth gauge and compass. It’ll make your suit smarter too! And this thread thingy is your guide line; just tug it, and the crew will pull you back to the surface, don’t rise too fast, take your time to not get the bends coming back up.”
“Sea Swirl. I’m not a foal…”
“Oh, and this –”
Sunset gasped.
“– is a knife!”
After a few breathless seconds, Sunset squeaked, “Please put that down? Or… stop… smiling like that while you’re holding it?”
Sea Swirl sheathed it and strapped it to Sunset’s other leg. “You can use it if you need to cut nets or things to keep out of trouble! See! I think of everything!”
Weighed down by far more equipment than she was sure would ever be needed, and moving like a stiff robot with arthritis, Sunset rotated – groaning – to face the ocean blue.
“You certainly do…” she murmured.
Beside her, Sea Swirl’s suit rustled and clanked while she slipped it on. Simmering with patience, Sunset waited for the sounds to stop. Four clunks suggested Sea Swirl now faced the ocean too, side by side.
Sunset reached across and patted her on the shoulder.
“This is exciting, isn’t it!?” squealed Sea Swirl. “A little too exciting, in a way?”
Through her forelimb still on Sea Swirl’s shoulder, Sunset felt the trembling. Of course, up till now Sea Swirl’s closest contact with “adventure” had been to listen to her talking about it after the fact. To actually stand on the brink of the boat over the unknown was something else.
“Think of all the fun we’ll have finding out,” whispered Sunset, leaning closer. She herself pained to see it all, like she was straining against a straitjacket. Anyway, the diving set was a pretty darn good facsimile of one.
“Let me know if you struggle to breathe, OK?” said Sea Swirl, and then she hiccupped; Sunset recognized this sign of stress. “I swear I’ll check your equipment every minute.”
“Once or twice should be enough.”
“There’s nothing scary about diving to find lost treasure under the sea, not at all!”
“Sea Swirl.” Clunking all the way, Sunset forced herself a few steps closer and clung as though to a lifebelt. “It’s going to be OK.”
“Yeah, but… but this is my first time.” All the time, Sea Swirl never took her eyes off the waves. “I want it to be perfect for us. You’ll see. I can keep up.”
Sunset gave her a squeeze. “I know you will. Relax. You think we’re dating because we’re both adrenaline junkies, or something? Just be yourself.”
“You’ll-love-the-sea-Sunset!” added Sea Swirl with desperation.
Sunset cast her gaze across the jagged waters where the waves cut along the breeze. She’d been on a couple of dives with Sea Swirl before, namely because she’d been dragged into it. Both times, the mare had transformed as soon as she’d hit the waves, like a sealion transforming from bumbling blubber on land to a sinuating strike through the currents. If anything, the mare only seemed to get nerves around Sunset herself. But she’d be happy today.
Well, now would help to change that mindset. Sea Swirl spent too long drifting in life’s current. Her mind needed to swim on its own power.
“Imagine what they’ll say,” cooed Sunset, “when we bring back the Everlasting Fire. Think! You’ll be a hero too, Sea Swirl. We’ll both be heroes.”
“Um…” Sea Swirl clunked backwards. “I’m… kinda happy just tagging along, really…”
Without looking, Sunset reached across and eased her forwards; such was Sea Swirl’s compliance that there wasn’t even any resistance while she clunked forwards again.
“You made this possible,” said Sunset in a voice like ice. “You deserve the credit just as much as I do. It could help us go places. Do you understand?”
Waves slapped the hull of the boat. Neither of them said anything, hoping the ice would thaw wordlessly: nothing would be wrong between them.
Sea Swirl climbed up and turned, clasped her forelimbs over her chest, and fell backwards. Soon after the splash, Sunset leaped off the deck. She preferred to see what was coming before the waters slapped her entire body and all sound distorted completely.
One year ago, Sports Stadium of the University of Kuda
“Come on, Sea Swirl! Woo! Woo! Woo! Woo!”
Sunset jumped and waved her homemade banner from the stands. There were a lot of sunflowers fringing the text, despite having “SEA SWIRL” emblazoned in blue letters across it. Sunset’s personal touch, of course.
On the pitch, Sea Swirl stood in the line of candidates, trying to grin up at her. Unfortunately, her face was a rictus of contorted terror, which somewhat lessened the grin’s cheery effect.
Recognizing the symptoms, Sunset immediately clambered over the seats – apologizing to the few spectators as she went – and got as close to the field of play as the barrier allowed, pressing her chest against it hard. Dutiful as ever, Sea Swirl shuffled away from the line to cock an ear.
“Don’t worry,” said Sunset. “It’s just like we practised. You’ll be a credit to the team.”
“Um… sure… if-if you say so.” Sea Swirl swallowed and looked behind.
Within the buckball circle were two earth ponies. Two pegasi hovered overhead. At one end of the circle, a unicorn lazily levitated a bucket-shaped goal.
The coach blew her whistle. “Next!”
One of the unicorns in line stumbled forwards. He looked either side of him nervously. When the coach pointed, he levitated his own bucket and started to tremble as though about to faint.
“GO!” Another blast of the whistle.
The ball was thrown into the circle. One earth pony kicked it towards –
Everyone groaned from all sides.
Sea Swirl cringed and looked pleadingly at Sunset while he was dragged off by medics.
“Well… uh…” said Sunset, twisting her face up. “Who… could’ve guessed the ball would’ve… hit the bucket… that hard… while he was standing under it?” Her grin strengthened. “Yeah! That was his problem. Too little confidence. He looked like he was going to drop it at any second. No wonder it flew back and hit him, huh? So the solution is very, very easy…”
“I changed my mind.” Sea Swirl started struggling out of her shirt. “I think I’ll wait until next year for try-outs.”
“NononowaitWAIT! Sea Swirl!”
“It’s OK. It’s just a game. No one really needs me to –”
Sunset’s magic slid out and held the hooves at bay. Still half-entangled in the shirt, Sea Swirl gaped up at her.
“This is your problem,” murmured Sunset calmly, and she eased the shirt back down before placing her hoof delicately under Sea Swirl’s chin. “You want this buckball spot, don’t you?”
“Not now, no!”
“Sea Swirl…?”
“Not… as much as I used to, then.” Sea Swirl’s sheepish smile fled back down her throat when she swallowed. “I can’t do this. I was mad to try.”
“You’re not mad to try. Listen to me.” Sunset guided her other hoof under Sea Swirl’s trembling chin, feeling the pulse of fear flowing through. “Trying is one of the most important things you can do. Whether you fail or succeed, you’ll never get what you want unless you try.”
“Yes, but –”
“You want to try new things, right?”
The trembling stopped. “Y-Yes. But still –”
“And you know you can do this. We practised all yesterday. And the week before that.”
A wavy smile struggled to last on Sea Swirl’s face. “And the week before that.”
“And the week before that.” Starting to notice the muttering all around her, Sunset let go of Sea Swirl’s chin and sat back. “We’ve got drive. We’ve got the willpower. All you have to do is see what you want, and take it.”
“See what I want, and take it.” Sea Swirl winced at another blast of the whistle. “I’ll try. But –”
“No ‘buts’. That’s all anyone can expect you to do. Promise you’ll always try, no matter how tough it gets?” Sunset held out a hoof to shake.
After some back-and-forth glancing – as though Sea Swirl were looking for an escape – she slumped and shook it. “Well… if it’s you saying that, I guess…”
“For the third time: NEXT!” shouted the coach.
“Good luck!” Sunset raised the banner again while Sea Swirl scurried towards the circle. Sea Swirl picked up the bucket. At least she wasn’t trembling like that last guy.
And as she held her breath, Sunset watched the two earth ponies crouch in readiness. She watched the pegasi flapping overhead. She cocked an ear to listen to the breaths of the bated crowd.
Perhaps they wouldn’t notice? Besides, Sea Swirl clearly needed help.
A faint flicker ran along Sunset’s own horn.
The ball flew through the air.
She focused on Sea Swirl’s bucket. Nothing dramatic. Just a minor adjustment to make sure it didn’t miss.
The earth pony drew back to kick.
Sunset looked at Sea Swirl.
No.
She cut off her magic.
Sea Swirl alone stood by Sunset’s side now. Even the archchancellor always reserved her speech and manner to mere curt instructions nowadays. After what Sunset did, after all the progress she’d made, after all the tears and apologies, after finding Sea Swirl… could she really repay her by treating her like a puppet? By discarding all that “believe in yourself” stuff? That was like gospel to them.
So Sunset watched, without interfering, when the ball was kicked and Sea Swirl squealed and both she and her bucket ducked down under the ball flying clean overhead.
A groan went up from the audience.
The coach’s whistle blasted the air. “NEXT!”
To Sea Swirl’s credit, she did not bawl her eyes out or run off in shame. No, she held her head high, she nodded to the coach – just as Sunset had taught her – she bit her lip, and she strode away as dignified as possible. Sunset vaulted over the barrier to land right next to her, sand crunching underfoot.
“I…” said Sea Swirl, showing the red bite mark under her lower lip. “I guess I just don’t have it.”
“You pushed yourself out there,” said Sunset, trying to smile and failing under Sea Swirl’s watery eyes. “That’s enough. Maybe… Maybe buckball isn’t your thing? There’s plenty of other fish in the sea.”
She’d hoped quoting Sea Swirl’s own phrase back at her would’ve worked. It did nothing.
Summoning the sunflower banner, Sunset patted her on the withers before guiding her to the exit. “Chin up. Let’s go paint some watercolours. Painting always makes us feel better.”
“Yeah…” Sea Swirl’s voice was dead. “Oh well. I guess I’m not cut out for anything more adventurous after all.”
“Hey, don’t beat yourself up. Adventure isn’t everything. I mean, like, gallivanting knights and questing heroes? Sounds like a bunch of fairy tales, right?”
But such was Sea Swirl’s sullen silence that even the brave laughter died a painful death.
As soon as Sunset burst into the water, sounds warped and burbled around her ears. Through the suit, she still felt the chill oozing in and the shifting, buffeting currents of waves submerged. Her whole body shrank away from it.
When she dared open her eyes, all was endless blue.
Mere echoes rumbled and rolled over her. Up above, lights wavered, and tendrils glowed. Shapes curled and bloomed along with the waves.
She breathed harder. Something else breathed, heavy and mechanical. It took a moment to remember this was her own echo.
No matter how many times she dived, she’d never, ever get over the first shock. In some way, submerging her whole body was like being born again. Into a world less than caring. Cold. Dead. Otherworldly.
A jellyfish bobbed into view.
She froze, utterly hypnotized. The blob bulged and then threw down its skirts, propelling itself up and away.
Another bobbed after it, and then another, and another. Jellyfish, ghosts of mushrooms, pulsing like bubbles. Shoals, globules, fields of the things surged up slow and deceptive as a creeping wave.
And then, despite her hopes, she was surrounded by the pulsing ghosts. No matter which way she turned – and she turned urgently, desperately, thrashing to turn against the water.
Tiny fish like spits of black haunted the jellyfish here and there.
To her utter shock, a green flipper washed over her face. Instantly, she spun round, the horn beneath her face mask glowing to strike –
A circle of shadow. Two flippers flapped down, knocking her scalp – haste prodded her to check the mask hadn’t slipped – and the turtle’s bored head tilted down to note her dreary presence.
Sunset watched it, heart beating as hotly as it could against the chill spiking her limbs, until it drifted, and was lost to the fog of jellyfish souls.
From afar wafted the wailing of a whale, mourning her in the murkiness.
This was enough. Sunset flipped herself over, steeling herself – for Celestia, for Celestia! – to kick out. The suit flared along her sleeves. Flippers were more usual for propelling divers, but she preferred the bladesleeves design. No plastic dragging on her hooves: just two glider-like wings splaying out from her suit. Easier to control. She wanted as much control as she could get.
Through the muggy jellyfish, the light of her horn cut its way. As did she, sending jellyfish tumbling out of her wake.
It was not just jellyfish now. Daggers of herring darted in and out. Tiny white flakes settled on her suit, and she had to stop to wiggle them off. Cloaks of skates slid across her vision, stingray-like. Things that looked like glass insects tickled the water on her way past, overlong antennae brushing over her mask.
The whale-song called for her soul.
Sunset willed herself to breathe normally, to not thrash a little too much with each strike of her sleeves, to try not to think of all the weird eyes and strange bodies and creeping things and unnatural shapes touching her beneath the flimsy thing she called a “protective” suit.
She was breathing hard enough to drown it out, and still she couldn’t stop breathing hard.
“Sea Swirl?” she gasped. Shame briefly boiled inside her chest before the fear smothered it, choking. “Sea Swirl!?”
Once more, she was a foal. Seeing the sea for the first time.
What was the sea back then? She’d had only the surface to judge it from. No one had convinced her to go any deeper.
Blue. Endless blue. That was shallow thinking, she knew, but that was all she would think. It looked like a diseased living thing, undead, slurping at the shore. Oh, she knew there were fish and things that came from it, sure, but her childish mind knew anything underwater would drown and die. It took life. It couldn’t give it.
The sea didn’t matter anyway. She had fire. She knew fire was alive. It was warm, it glowed with life, and its movements told her its mood, when it was content and silent, when it was comforting and whispering, when it was angry and roaring…
A shadow eclipsed her view. Much too smooth to be a pony –
“Sea Swirl!?” Sunset threw herself back, but where she should’ve shot backwards on land, here she merely bumped as though against an invisible wall. Darn water resistance.
The tail fluke flapped out of the way. She didn’t have time to see its owner before the shadow faded into the surrounding shoal.
“I hear you,” said a tinny voice in her ear. So communications were working, then.
“Sea Swirl!”
“Coming.”
At once, the fish blinked out of existence – they moved so fast. Jellyfish, without appearing to change at all, gradually pulsed themselves aside. Coming through the veil of creatures…
A hum ran through Sunset, so low and so quiet that she resonated from horn to hooves with it. Worse than all outside creatures was that hum on the inside. Nothing else, not even the relentless chill, made her feel so unprotected, so naked to the elements, as a sound without sound, shaking her without any power, going right through her body to touch her spirit and destroy the very idea of her having substance in this world.
Worst of all, she felt as though the hum knew her far better than she knew anything. As though she were no more to it than the merest flake in the current. Despite being invisible, it had gravity. It filter-fed on things her little heart could never engulf. Its thoughts would dwarf the intellect of generations wiser than hers.
And all of it now focused on her. She’d be crushed by the merest twinge of an inkling of a whim.
Only after a while did she realize; the hum was Sea Swirl’s.
Now she remembered that, the voice sounded much more familiar. So she wasn’t surprised to see, drifting through the open blue, horn alight, eyes closed behind the mask, the effortless gliding strokes of Sea Swirl herself.
Sea Swirl seemed to be utterly delighted, and yet asleep. Doubtless focusing on her shaman magic. In these waters, she’d be surrounded by power.
When Sunset choked and forced herself to swim down – struggling a bit to turn herself over – she heard the familiar hum following her, for the moment a guiding spirit.
Two years ago, Sunset’s Home near the University of Kuda
The sound hit Sea Swirl’s ear like a wet slap. She opened her eyes.
Creaking, groaning, and unfolding like a dozy deckchair, she rose off the sofa and didn’t mind the blanket falling to the floor. She was a guest, after all. Sunset didn’t fully trust her to lie in the bedroom upstairs. Not yet. Someday.
But now, upstairs Sea Swirl had to go, following the sounds of pained weeping.
The room, when she opened the door, was mostly in darkness. Faint moonlight lined the gaps around or between the curtains. From the bed came lung-straining moans and snout-roughing sniffs, the sort of weeping that scoured the insides as though determined to punish everything.
Sea Swirl merely stared for a while. Hardly ever had she been up here. Even now, the brilliant phoenix blaze of the décor hypnotized her. Momentarily, at least. Then she hurried over to the bed, illuminated from behind by the landing lamp, so that her shadow fell over the hunched back and its quilt.
“Oh dear,” she whispered. Cautious as a herring, she placed her pointed hoof on the hunched back. “Another bout of guilt?”
Sunset tried to speak under the attack of sobs. Even through the layers, Sea Swirl’s shamanistic senses caught the tangled knot inside, like a mass of spiked, oozing vines scrunched into a ball. Tenderly, she cast her own small amount of magic amongst the gaps, easing them apart less with brute force and more with subtle currents and gentle persuasion.
“Sorry if this stings a bit,” she whispered, determined not to startle the patient. “Full moon’s not till next week. This is all the healing magic I’ve got.”
Oh, she’d need a boost, that much she could tell. Tonight, the knot was tight enough to resist hours of magic.
At once, she went out and came back with the full facial mask smothering her vision. It was shaped like a giant fish head – a tuna, in this case – and the fact that it was made with papier-mâché and sequins was just a minor detail. What was important in shamanism was what she believed it to be.
There were masks for all kinds of things. Some masks translated her desires for the denizens of the deep. Some marked ceremonial occasions. A few looked good at parties.
This one reeked of oil. Under her breath, she murmured random gibberish – having long since learned that it didn’t really matter what she said so long as she said something – and magic poured out of her face, running through the mask as an invisible river of cool liquid, to crash over Sunset’s back.
Only a minute would be needed. The cleansing was for emergencies, and for good reason.
Sea Swirl took off the mask to snatch a choking breath. One downfall in the mask’s design was how stuffy it could get. Plus, it was heavy as heck.
Behind the curtain, the moonlight glowed brighter before it faded back to normal.
Another scan: inside Sunset’s heart, the tangled knot wilted, barely recognizable as a mass. And Sunset’s weeping died down. Nothing more than sniffles and weak gasps of relief.
Sea Swirl ran a hoof over her friend’s face in the dark. Not that darkness meant much to a shaman: otherworldly senses revealed Sunset’s form as bright and clear as the moon amid oblivion.
“Wow,” breathed Sea Swirl. “You’re so full of life!”
“I didn’t mean to!” hissed Sunset. “I thought I was doing what was right. I didn’t know. I’m sorry!”
Ah. Now came the hard part: the raving.
“I didn’t know!” The voice ran on, utterly lost to sense and not even directed at anyone anymore. “I was misguided. I only wanted to change things. All those ponies I hurt. All that destruction.”
Suddenly, Sunset shot up, sitting on the bed, looking about wildly until her gaze met Sea Swirl’s. At once, she reached across.
“I’ve changed! I’m not the same unicorn anymore! I can do things right this time! Just give me another chance! Any chance! Please!”
Sea Swirl closed her eyes. Commanding her face to stay neutral, she forced down every ounce of pain and bitterness welling up inside. Involuntary visions screamed across her inner eye before ripping themselves apart. Visions of fire and smoke.
Only when the welling stopped did she meet those desperate eyes again. “It’s OK. It’s all in the past, Sunset.”
“But if I don’t do something about it, I’d… I can’t let this all be in vain… I’m better than that, I swear!”
“I know you are.” Shushing her, Sea Swirl pressed a hoof against Sunset’s chest and eased her onto her back again. “It’s like a bad dream, that’s all.”
She waited while Sunset stared silently at the ceiling. Bright lamplight behind. Vague moonlight ahead.
“You’re wrecking your life for me,” said Sunset.
Sea Swirl shrugged, trying to inject some laughter into her voice. “Well, I don’t care what anyone else thinks. Wounds can heal. I should know; I am a shaman-in-training.”
“Leave me alone.”
“OK, but come on: is that what you really want? I’ll only go if it is.”
Although Sunset closed her eyes tight enough to wrinkle skin, she said nothing more. Sea Swirl guided the quilt up to her neck and plumped up the pillow, waiting patiently for an answer.
Eventually, Sunset said, “Would you really go if I told you to?”
“Without question. You know your own mind better than anyone I’ve ever met. If you want me to go, then I’ll know it’s the right thing to do.”
“Even after what I did? I made a mistake. It can happen again.”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Well, why would you care about someone like that!?” Sunset’s anger pushed her off the mattress until Sea Swirl’s lake of patience pressed her back down again, slow and irrevocable as a rising tide.
“Because that’s what loved ones do, of course.” Sea Swirl grunted a little laugh, but then placed both hooves on top of Sunset’s nearest shoulder and held them there. Then she looked into Sunset’s eyes, bright and burning even in the gloom. “I promise: whatever happens, you’re the hero of my story, and no matter if your life were one big mistake, I’d be honoured to see it through to the end and do what I can to make it a good story indeed. Er…” She felt the blush choking the life out of her face. “What little I can do, I mean.”
“Sea Swirl…” The voice was barely a whisper. “Stay…”
Thus, Sea Swirl stayed until Sunset lay down, the mare’s fiery glow dimming to a steady burn, soon smiling in a deep sleep. Sea Swirl was still there when Sunset eventually woke up hours later.
Safe. Until it all started again the next night. And the next. And the next…
“Sea Swirl! Sea Swirl!”
“Hm?”
Sea Swirl’s head hit the seabed. Grunting, she righted herself.
For her, the water was no trickier than air. She stood on the sand, while overhead Sunset floated, weightless and helpless.
“Sorry.” Sea Swirl coughed and straightened up. “Drifted off there.”
Behind her mask, Sunset rolled her eyes. “Again.”
“Ahahaha…” With a cheesy grin, Sea Swirl checked her Scuba Dive Computer. “Oh, good. We’re in the right place.”
“Yeah.” Clearly irritated, Sunset flapped her bladesleeves to right herself as she floated. “Notice something wrong with it?”
Sea Swirl looked around. Even she knew she could be a bit slow on the uptake.
Along the floor, clumps of corals dazzled her with all shapes and sizes. It was like a sculptor had determined to make the seabed beautiful with his work. Oh, and over there were lots of crabs stumbling over each other with business-like haste. Little woodlice things bumped into her legs. Very tiny fish peeped out of holes all around, curious children to her indulgent imagination –
“Sea Swirl!”
“Oh, sorry Sunset! Ahem.” She pointed dramatically at a random spot. “The shipwreck… is not there!”
Drama waited for a gasp, a “whoa” even.
Not really a sigh, but Sunset gave one anyway.
“Great work, detective,” she said bitterly.
Sea Swirl threw her another grin. “And yet, we’re definitely in the right spot. Which means, my lady –”
“Less of the knight talk, please.”
“– the shipwreck containing the Everlasting Fire… has been moved!”
The pause deepened her blush before the now-upside-down Sunset said, “Why did I bring you again?”
“Um… did we get the coordinates wrong?” Sea Swirl tapped the computer on her wrist. She drew her knife, looking thoughtfully at the sand.
She knew the story, of course. Sunset had briefed her, one week ago. And every day since then, because she kept forgetting the details.
An expedition had left Kuda city one month ago, originally to investigate some recently discovered temples in the Ahuitzotlian regions of the south. They’d only been historians, archaeologists, what Sunset had dismissed as “paper-scrapers”.
Until they’d stumbled across a myth made real. The worshipped idol of the native population. The Everlasting Fire.
Excited, they’d seized it at once and trapped it in a black chest, hoping to sail back home with their precious new cargo. Unfortunately, though they’d prepared by fireproofing as much of the chest as they could – using their limited resources – the ship had been rescheduled to return within three days.
None of them had been fire mages.
The ship never came back.
Only last week, Celestia’s crew had found the remains at the bottom of the sea. Yet no one wanted to touch it. The whole ship was a blackened frame. It had been made of metal, but now it was a burnt skeleton.
So they needed an expert. Someone who knew how to handle fire.
“Sea Swirl!”
Sea Swirl shook her head, water rushing around her ears. “Sorry, Sunset. Drifted off again.”
Then she dug her knife into the sand. Carefully, she rattled it until it held firm. Then she closed her eyes and placed a hoof over the hilt.
Through the suit, tiny crustacean legs clambered up hopefully. Without ritual masks, this was going to be tricky, but she hummed the song nonetheless – nearby, she sensed Sunset draw back like a stung animal – and listened out for the answer.
Tiny sounds tickled her ears.
Deep within, the minds that had passed through here spoke through the last few hours, days, weeks…
She opened her eyes. “The ship. The ship was dragged away.”
“What?”
“Over here.” Sea Swirl yanked the knife out and reared, legs thrashing, whinnying loudly. “On, on to glory!”
“Sea Swirl! Wait!”
Yet Sea Swirl galloped on, led by the promise of adventure. Lo! The brave knight, heading towards realms unknown, for brave deeds undone and damsels soon-to-be-rescued!
Around her, disturbed snails and surprised prawns scattered in splashes of psychedelia.
She skidded to a halt.
She stopped.
Overhead, the shoal of jellyfish gathered like gentle clouds.
Patiently, she waited until Sunset had flapped and thrashed and cursed her way towards her side. At least she hadn’t been hard to follow – from the original site, streaks of black soot now stood out where the ship’s hull had scraped the seabed.
Panting, gasping, almost whimpering through sheer effort, Sunset flapped all the harder not to overshoot. “So now what? I hoped… Sorry, I thought we’d find the thing and get it up by now. So where is it? You found it?”
Sea Swirl nodded, twice, very obviously. Then she pointed down.
Sunset looked down.
Sea Swirl didn’t mind the thrashing or the squeezing or the shaking of fear as Sunset clung to her. Truth be told, it even bothered her, and she was a sea expert. In a way.
She stood on the lip of a precipice.
Down below, blackness.
Sunlight did not burn the ocean blue here. Below those depths, the meagre sunlight and the diluted summer heat would not, could not survive. Fire had no chance.
Gradual shame unwound Sunset from Sea Swirl, who waited for her to float alongside.
“Down there?” said Sunset. Her voice hardly quivered.
“Down there.” Sea Swirl nodded.
“Something dragged it down there?”
“Something dragged it down there.”
Sunset swallowed. “D-Dare I ask?”
“Erm…” Truth and tact stared politely at each other in Sea Swirl’s mind, each making “after you” gestures to each other. “Something I can manage,” she said by way of compromise.
“And me?” This time, the old Sunset came back, a recovering flame. Hints of the inferno roared behind it.
“I’ll be glad to accompany you on this mission, fair lady!” Sea Swirl winked at her. It had no effect. “Um… if you think you can… uh…”
Rage scorched Sunset’s face. Behind the mask, she gave the darkness an imperious glare. Almost like the one Celestia had given once before…
“Sea Swirl!”
Instantly, Sea Swirl saluted. “Yes, Sunset?”
Sunset tensed her muscles, ready to plunge. “We’re not coming back until that fire’s in our hooves. Do you understand me?”
“Uh…” Sea Swirl swallowed. Not for a long time had she heard those thundering tones.
“Yes?”
But she put it out of her mind. Surely, she was reading too much into this? Sunset knew her way around adventures. Best to trust her.
Maybe.
“Yes. I understand.” Sea Swirl reached across to hug Sunset one-limbed, but Sunset pushed the hoof aside without looking up.
To her alarm, Sunset paddled her way down first. Sea Swirl barely hesitated before jumping in after her. Sunset needed her to lead the way, in such unfamiliar territory. At the very least, she needed to be by her side.
Three years and one week ago, Archchancellor’s Office, University of Kuda
Sea Swirl heard an imperious voice echoing as she crept along the corridor. Slowly, shaking slightly, she slid to a stop outside the archchancellor’s door and pressed an ear against the frame.
Under the imperious voice, she heard sobbing.
“Sunset Shimmer,” boomed Celestia, “you have destroyed homes, corrupted magic, and endangered the lives of many, many ponies in Kuda city. I entrusted you with higher responsibility. You have broken that trust.”
“C-Celestia… please…”
Sea Swirl winced as the sobs clawed desperately at her ears. She had to bite her lip hard. Never had she heard Sunset – her Sunset, who always burned so brightly and rose so powerfully – never had she heard Sunset so weak.
“From the beginning, I entrusted you,” continued Celestia, cold as a blazing star in the bleakness of space. “You have talent, Sunset. Your knowledge of fire magic is prodigious for a mare of your age. Best of all, you have the insatiable drive to learn more, to do more, to go beyond frontiers. Such a drive is rare among even the best students.”
The sobs choked and stammered. Sea Swirl cringed with each one. With the right spin and inflection, Celestia’s praise could cut deeper than her condemnation.
“But if this… atrocity is what I can expect from you, then all of that is for nought.”
“Celestia! Please! I beg you –”
“The courts will decide upon your full punishment, even I cannot determine that, but as you are a student of this faculty, here and now I can give you my punishment.”
“I won’t do it again! I swear! Please!”
Sea Swirl grunted as though struck.
There was only the most torturous of pauses before Celestia’s imperious voice braced for impact. “As of now, you are expelled. Permanently.”
Even Sea Swirl felt the ripples of that blow. Sunset was a lot of things, but her entire life, her mind, even her existence fed on the one everlasting fact that she was Celestia’s favourite. That fact had kept her going through failure after failure after failure, without once dimming or slowing. It survived the cold winds of time, the bitter ice of classmate gossip, the darkening of the world around them as more and more of Sunset forgot what it was even like to live in a world without Celestia’s approval.
Now it was finally flickering, soon to die.
“NO! Celestia – Archchancellor! I’ll help rebuild! I can fix this! I’ll start my studies from the bottom again and work my way up! Please! Anything!”
“I cannot ignore this betrayal of my trust.” If only Celestia had shouted, or weakened, or shown any sign of remorse. Instead, she simply oozed over Sunset like a volcanic flow over a village campfire. “The temptation to abuse it is clearly too strong for you. And nothing can justify so much suffering. Nothing.”
Worse, Sea Swirl could hear the hyperventilating gasps of Sunset. Sweat clung to her face. But what could she do? She was just background. Her voice had no say. No one would take it seriously.
Yet when she heard the pleas of Sunset degenerate into wails, and completely collapse into painful, straining sobs, sheer agony would’ve made Sea Swirl fight.
So, propelled by pain, she burst through the door and shouted, “Wait!”
And there was the scene. Rows and rows of paintings and faces and certificates and degrees poised as an academic tidal wave to crush her. The phoenix crackling quietly beside the desk. Sunset and a toppled chair lying helpless below it all.
Archchancellor Celestia of the University of Kuda, on a throne, cold as a statue, mane billowing with a spiritual wind too incomprehensible for her mortal mind.
To her surprise, Sea Swirl saw the slash of outrage give way to serene puzzlement on Celestia’s face.
Sea Swirl opened her mouth to speak.
She couldn’t. Now she was here, she couldn’t. What was she doing in Celestia’s quarters? Get out of here right now!
Sunset saw her, stood up at once, sniffed some semblance of dignity back into herself, straightened up with pride and embarrassment reddening her glare.
That glare did it. Anything else, and Sea Swirl would have scurried to safety. But that glared poked at her, and she’d been poked one time too many by it.
“Archchancellor,” she said, hoping the tough words would come right on cue, “you can’t expel her!”
One imperious eyebrow rose up. “Oh?”
Sea Swirl saw the challenge in it. If she tried the tough approach, she’d be picking a fight with the most powerful unicorn in the entire world.
She softened her muscles and her expression. “Those studies mean everything to Sunset. I know because I’ve seen her, always experimenting with new kinds of fire spell, and… um…”
“That is precisely the issue,” said Celestia. It was hard to tell if the voice was cold or heated. It gave nothing away.
“No, I meant… Look, this isn’t just some excited student we’re talking about. OK, she was very excited when she enrolled here, we had a lot of laughs when she made it, and a party, and cake, and… Ahem, sorry.”
“But…?”
“This is Sunset’s soul, um, your archchancellor-ness. I know all about souls because it’s part of the shaman training. We have lots of souls for everything, but Sunset has just one big one, and that’s what makes her a strong pony. And a good friend.”
Sea Swirl deliberately ignored the sharp movement from Sunset. She couldn’t afford to look away from those imperious eyes.
“Your meaning?” said Celestia.
Like the rising tide, Sea Swirl’s trickling speech swallowed more and more land. “She doesn’t have to change from one thing to another in order to fit in. She changes things around her. Because her soul is the everlasting fire everyone keeps talking about.”
She closed her eyes, trying to focus on what was welling up in her mind. Too far. She was going too far.
But Sunset, she was sure, would’ve done the same for her. In for a drop, in for a sea. Depths and all.
When she spoke, her voice barely trembled between the effort and the sudden fear trying to drown it. “Years ago, she helped me find my spirit song with the dolphins when everyone else thought I was just a kook. She never gave up on helping me train, whether or not I gave up on myself. Even when she got impatient and angry with me – and she did that a lot recently – she never left my side or called me a lost cause. Deep down, she’s the best pony I’ve ever met. Yes, she made a mistake, but she did it because she refused to give you anything but her best. You expel her, and she won’t stop to make it up to you no matter what you do to her. So please give her another chance. If you tell her to be a good pony instead of a strong one, she’ll be the best pony in the world. She just needs guidance… from friends… who won’t… give up on her…”
Finally, fear and embarrassment choked her into silence.
She risked a glance at Sunset. Wide eyes, shining, stared back. Her jaw was slack.
Celestia’s mane undulated as though in divine thought. Then…
“I can’t overlook the seriousness of what she has done,” said the archchancellor. “Her expulsion is final.”
Sea Swirl’s ears drooped under the weight of failure –
“But,” continued Celestia – both unicorns looked up suddenly – “there may be a way to redeem yourself, Sunset Shimmer.”
Sunset couldn’t straighten up fast enough. “Yes, Celes– Yes, Archchancellor!?”
“You’ve risked other lives for your own selfish ends. It seems fitting, therefore, for you to be prepared to risk your own life for the good of others in turn. My missions outside the city involve perilous journeys and dangerous quests, but they ultimately aim to better the lives of unicorns and non-unicorns alike. Your talents and knowledge would be valuable here. If you are serious about this –”
“I am! Honestly, I am, Archchancellor!”
“Then I may indeed call upon you to assist me on some of these missions. You have torn down your honour with this stunt, but if you can rebuild it again, and prove what your friend has said to be true, then I think it would be for the best. I believe in second chances; don’t challenge that belief. Don’t forget why you needed that second chance in the first place, and what you’ve done to other ponies. Don’t ever forget.”
Sunset bowed her head. “I won’t.”
“Good. But for now, you are dismissed. I think you’ll need time to take this all in.”
On her way out, Sea Swirl stared at the carpet and didn’t look up even in the corridor outside. Behind her, the door clicked shut.
Any moment now…
“Why did you do it?” whispered Sunset. “You stood up to Celestia. Even I’ve never managed that.”
Eventually, Sea Swirl turned around to face her hooves; Sunset merely stood there. She didn’t dare look up at another possible glare.
“I had to.” Sea Swirl shrugged, trying to make it seem completely and utterly unremarkable that she did actually stand up to Celestia. Even knowing that she’d done it, she still found it ridiculous to believe.
“After the way I treated you…?”
Now Sea Swirl looked up, and instead of the glare she’d been dreading, she met a complete blank. Wide eyes. Small mouth agape. Senses utterly lost.
“After what I did…?” Sunset’s eyelids squeezed in pain.
“I know the real you,” said Sea Swirl. “You were always there to help me. I had to help a soul like yours. That’s what loved ones do.”
“I didn’t… need your help.” Sunset’s eyes began to leak. “I don’t… want your help.”
“Oh Sunset. That’s just your pride talking. Come here.”
But it was Sea Swirl who stepped forwards and pressed her warmth into Sunset’s body, trying to squeeze as much love into her embrace as she dared. Sunset herself stood there, taking it, and – judging by the sniffs – not taking it well.
“Why would you help me?” The voice cracked. “I don’t deserve help.”
“Let’s get you home, Sunset. It’s been a shock for me too. We’ll have some nice tea and seaweed rolls, and then we can brush up on our lecture notes together. Like old times. How does that sound?”
Gently, she eased her forelimb around Sunset’s own and guided her away from the archchancellor’s door.
Into the abyss…
Sunset swung her legs, forcing the water aside. Her gaze was fixed on the endless nothing below. She descended, refusing to let the chill deepen or the darkness destroy her light.
Even in this mood, she wasn’t completely unreasonable; her hornlight was red. Red light hardly penetrated down here, Sea Swirl had said. Hardly any animal could see by it. So if they used it, they’d be invisible.
Sea Swirl’s panting came through her mask. Elemental advantage or not, she was no match for Sunset’s speed. Sunset knew what she wanted. And she’d take it.
From another world, the unseen whale sang through the silence.
Darkness waited with endless patience.
Yet she’d blaze through it, a shooting star in the night. Finding the primeval flame, the one true fire, the elder Pyre and Ignite of the universe: finally, finally, unicorns could understand the heart of nature. Unlock secrets beyond secrets. She, Sunset, would be the first to understand it. She’d be the first fire mage to touch it, and in that instant, she’d be the guide to everyone else.
Anger made her thrash against the water. It resisted. She was going to be Sunset Shimmer, greatest of the University of Kuda. They’d beg her to come back to teach them. She’d have her dreams again. She wouldn’t be a failure. She wouldn’t be a monster.
Shapes slid through the gloom. Her light rose.
Hammerhead sharks glided by. Wide heads defied the laws of nature. Sleek shapes cut through her concentration.
Sunset forced herself to look down again. No distractions. None.
Regardless, the fear beat inside her chest, harder and harsher.
No. She couldn’t be selfish. She wasn’t going to cheat, or steal, or belittle anyone else ever again. She was just a squishy little pony. She’d do her best. No one would be hurt because of her mistakes; at the slightest sign of danger, she’d protect Sea Swirl. And look on the bright side: even if they came back empty-hooved, they would’ve seen graceful hammerhead sharks in the gloom.
The sea was alive. She knew that now. She knew better. She had to be better.
Yet still she dived down, driven by the hope of her bowing before Celestia as her equal again, and the words she’d been longing to hear… “I forgive you.”
She’d never heard those words. Not in three years and two weeks.
Never.
“We’re here,” said Sea Swirl’s voice through her mask.
Guilty, Sunset shook herself back into the present. She picked up a bit too much from Sea Swirl these days…
She raised her head and her light.
The frame glowed back. Red with dead rage.
The two of them cleared the sheer rocky precipice and came down near the sand. Black ribs caught under their red lights. A few fish glittered as they drifted by.
Mouth agape, small as a child, Sunset undulated in one long, cautious stroke. Snapped bones of the ship lay scattered. A crumpled heap caught her eye. As she drew close, she briefly sensed something move behind them: probably just a shoal.
When she paddled into range, she slid her hooves through the wreckage and hefted black bits aside. They bit with cold: hard as metal all right, but metal twisted and bent under the torture of heat. Several clanked even as they settled atop each other underwater.
Finally, her hooves came up with a blocky thing.
A black chest.
The black chest.
The padlocks gave her no trouble. Sheer salt had broken the chains. Everything slid off when tilted.
She flipped it open.
Everlasting Fire.
Inside roared a piece of starlight. Instantly, she closed her eyes against pure white. Purple blobs behind her eyelids glowed and settled down.
Her hopes, her redemption, her life, her honour: she’d help crack open the chest to the treasures of magic and science the world over…
Only now was she aware of Sea Swirl’s voice. Irritating her. Couldn’t she pick a better time?
“What was that?” Sunset snapped the lid shut.
Her reflection stared back at her in surprise.
She blinked and refocused. Something red-rimmed shifted behind what looked like a round glass…
She blinked again.
Without moving, the world chilled around her to ice.
One giant eye stared at her.
Sheer flesh glowed red around it. Trapped in a nightmare, she saw the tentacles and the undulating fins.
Big enough to shift ship around itself, cracking beams and twisting metal under its grip, the colossal squid flooded through her eyes, into her mind, over what little flame remained, drowning her, killing her with the mere, inevitable horror of knowing that it existed. Right there. All around. Engulfing. Red. Pure red. Staring. With an eye bigger than her head.
“Don’t move!” came the insane voice of Sea Swirl.
Sunset drew her knife.
One tree-trunk tentacle slammed her midriff. Suddenly, she choked, she gasped, she couldn’t bend or breathe, and her belly screamed for mercy and hit her and wailed that it couldn’t bend or breathe –
Her clinging tank hit her back. On the seabed, she had a metal monster clinging to her body. Struggle though she might.
As she got up, another tentacle burst out of the blackness. A flash of red –
Everything below her neck was wrapped tight. Everything screamed and struck and shouted; not one thought survived the storm of stress.
Before her, the tentacles opened up. Something snapped like a gunshot. A squid was a mass of squidgy stuff, she knew. And tentacles. What the heck was it doing with a beak!?
What was this!? This wasn’t a squid. These weren’t animals. They poisoned the idea of animals. They suffocated her mind struggling to grasp them. They burned her with their grip. They blazed red through Sunset’s eyes – forced to close under the pain – as this now utterly incomprehensible beak widened to bite –
“NO!”
Sea Swirl burst into view, swiping. Tentacles, beak, and redness drew back.
Under fading consciousness, Sunset thought she heard the hum. The song. Well, she hated it. She hated everything to do with this miserable, overstuffed swamp. Who cared about the sea? Damp, monstrous, miserable place!
Sea Swirl rushed through her words.
Then another tentacle blazed red.
Sea Swirl’s silhouette swelled, and Sunset felt the spell and the unicorn hit her and the pressure crushed her instantly –
Three years and two weeks ago, University of Kuda
Fire.
Fire and smoke.
Fire, engulfing building after building, turning them into blackened squares crumbling to earth. Smoke, darkening the skies, blotting out the hopeful sun.
Screams under the rush of the inferno. Angry yells and galloping hooves under the snap and crackle of wood. The crash of water, useless against the fire, against the smoke, against the rumbling collapse of whole towers.
Unicorns used water, but the fire wasn’t quenched. Earth ponies used earth, but the fire refused to be smothered, consumed all. Pegasi blew air and ripped at the rising flames, but the fire merely swallowed it and spread along their windy streaks.
Embers rained down. Soot rained down. Heat heralded the flames, long before the glow came and far before the army of fire razed all in its path.
The city of Kuda was aflame.
And in the midst of it all, watching her university burn, was Sunset.
“No,” she said.
“No!” she shouted.
“NO!” Fruitlessly, she cast spells that stopped none of the nearby patches of flame. She ran around, trying to jog memories of spells that could stop her university from turning into hell.
She turned around and saw Sea Swirl gaping up at the sky. Hastily, Sunset hurried over, fresh anger forcing her along.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?” she shouted over the roar of flames.
“I THOUGHT I COULD HELP!” Sea Swirl shouted back.
“OH, GO HOME, YOU FOOL!” Sunset threw herself away as though scolded. Through the heat radiating off her own face, she saw her dreams mocking her in the crackling all around. “I DON’T NEED HELP!” she tried to say with a straight face. “I CAN HANDLE THIS! I CAN! I SWEAR! THIS CAN’T BE MY FAULT!”
Suspicion made her round on Sea Swirl.
“THIS IS YOUR FAULT! YOU MUST HAVE TAUGHT ME SOMETHING WRONG!”
“I TAUGHT YOU EXACTLY WHAT YOU ASKED FOR!”
“IT CAN’T BE MY FAULT! I CAN FIX THIS! I’M CELESTIA’S FAVOURITE! I CAN’T –”
She fired off another spell. The flames didn’t even shift with its passing. When she turned around again, she saw Sea Swirl backing off, fear on the orange sheen burning over her face, beneath the surrounding wall of inferno.
And overhead, the dreaded cry.
“SUNSET SHIMMER!”
Both looked up to the sudden light.
Flames spiralled up and spiralled into the light. Smoke, hitherto drifting lazily above, now rushed into the light. Heat and smoke and fire and embers and soot and ash flowed up, spiralling into the light. Nothing but the roar of an unnatural vacuum crying out to be filled…
It stopped.
All flames were gone. All smoke too. The sun shone again.
And the light resolved into Archchancellor Celestia, drifting down to their level, dimming back into a mortal form as her hooves landed on the dirt before Sunset Shimmer.
In the silence, the glare from Celestia was volcanic.
With the fire out, the blackened skeletons of buildings began to smoke on their own. Even the untouched ones shimmered through the leftover heat haze. From all around, a circle of shapes shifted, shimmered, resolved into ponies on the march.
Marching towards Sunset Shimmer.
She spun round, desperate for so much as one friendly face. Yet there was Sea Swirl, gaze averted, backing away from her as though from a demon.
Leaving her alone with Celestia.
Only then did Sunset break, and she was on her knees, fighting against the first of the sobs, this time on her own.
…through the faint traces of magic like snowflakes on the mind…
…through drowning darkness…
…through the echoes of the shaman song…
…Sunset grimaced, trying to open her eyes.
No fire burned inside her now. Nothing powered her to get up. Devoid of strength, she lay there, on the sand, behind Sea Swirl, seeing nought but the red glow.
And Sea Swirl was upright, waving her limbs about to stir up the currents, circling through all dimensions. Sometimes, Sunset swore those limbs phased through each other.
And the red outline of the squid loomed overhead, tentacles splayed. Both eyes reflected the red circle of light.
Sunset noticed the knife lying next to her. Feebly, she levitated the hilt.
Only then did she listen to the song. To what Sea Swirl was saying. At first, there was only one long note, everlasting, rising and falling yet immoveable as the ocean. No sense could be seen, no life below the surface.
But plunge inside it?
Hope. Life. Struggle. Heartbreak. A million species of emotion, dancing joyously, slashing with rage, sinking into despair, darting fears, ripples of shock and waves of zigzagging confusion. More things than even she had ever felt, now pouring through her ears in a burst of creation.
The soul-song. The most important song of them all.
From the darkness, while Sea Swirl sang and stirred the sea, dolphins rushed forth. Dolphins glowing blue and yellow and green and purple and orange and white. Dolphins circled the colossal squid, splashing it with their colours. Bubbles rose as a ring all around them. They blew more, creating a wall that shifted hues above all the glowing bodies.
Trapped as she was behind her suit and straps and tank and jacket and mask, Sunset breathed deeply. She could taste the colours in the air. Bitter ones. Sweet ones. Flavours as rich as any meal she’d savoured at any bar on land.
Every single one represented a part of Sea Swirl’s life.
Now Sunset focused, the shaman was growing more sloppy. Panting more too. She stumbled briefly. The effort involved must have taxed her to the limit.
Mesmerized, the squid stared on.
Then, at last, it lashed out. The black chest was in its grip.
The squid billowed. Out of the circle, it shot away and vanished. The last tentacle slid into the gloom.
One by one, the dolphins went out. Sunset saw the last one was yellow; it too went out, and then it swept through the water until the distorted sounds of its tail beats faded into the distance.
Finally, there remained only Sea Swirl, her red light, and nothing else.
Sunset closed her eyes. She heard the water warble in protest; Sea Swirl was drawing close. Strong hooves eased along Sunset’s sides to heave her by the pits. Water rushed around her.
She felt Sea Swirl tug on Sunset’s line. The signal to return.
Then the tug returned. Water rushed past them, yet Sea Swirl clung on.
Through water. Through chill. Through the weight of seas.
Through nothing…
Three years and three weeks ago, Sunset’s Home near the University of Kuda
“You have no idea how much pressure I’m under right now!” said Sunset, pacing back and forth in the living room.
On the sofa, Sea Swirl cleared her throat. Something was changing in Sunset these last few months. Something animal. She wasn’t sure how much further she could take it.
“I’m sure Celestia would understand –” she began.
“And would you stop calling her Celestia! To you, she’s the archchancellor! You haven’t EARNED anything else!”
Sea Swirl didn’t uncurl until Sunset resumed her pacing. This wasn’t like Sunset at all.
“Sunset, you’re letting your ambitions get the better of you,” she said, trying to sound calm and mature; she was a shaman-in-training, after all. “You may be really good at what you do, but you’re still just a pony. You’re not looking after yourself properly. You haven’t even eaten in days.”
“If I say I’m fine, then I’m fine.” Sunset continued pacing.
“But you’re not fine at all.”
“How dare you! I can handle anything Celestia throws at me!”
“And she didn’t throw this at you. You decided to do it on your own.”
“Urgh!” Sunset rolled her eyes. “You’d never understand. She chose me because I’m the greatest student to ever cross her path. You don’t just cruise on that. Lesser students cruise. I’ll blaze my way through it, whatever hidden tests she’s set, whatever it takes to prove I’m worth every second she spares for my lowly hide. I’ll do it, and I won’t let you or anyone else take that away from me. DO you understand!?”
“Of course I understand. Here, won’t you lie down next to me? I could try out this new magic I wanted to show you.”
Sunset stopped. She hit Sea Swirl with a glare that was worse than a lance of flame.
Then she shouted a laugh. “Look at you, dressing up in fish-heads like you’re going to a costume party. No wonder ponies call you a kook.”
Doubt struck Sea Swirl for a moment… before she shoved it aside. “Bad day at university, was it? Why don’t you talk it out? I love talking things out. I never thought I’d even make it to university without your help, yet here I am. So why don’t we talk together, like old times? And you could teach me how to do that magic you like so much. I’ve helped you, so maybe you could help me, right?”
Sunset stared at her for a little too long.
“Sunset?”
“It’s just occurred to me,” said Sunset, crouching down to Sea Swirl’s eye level, and now the ice in her voice was unmistakeable. “You need me, Sea Swirl.”
“That’s right! I’ve always loved –”
“But I don’t need you. Not anymore.”
Sea Swirl blinked at her. “Sunset?”
“Now that I know so much about water magic from you, I have enough raw material to forge a new fire magic. A fire magic with all the weaknesses replaced by water’s strengths. A fire that’ll never go out. The Everlasting Fire is just a myth, but I can make it a reality.”
“Now hold on a second! You don’t know everything about water magic. It’s much deeper than that –”
“Ha! How defensive.”
“I’m not being defensive,” lied Sea Swirl.
“But then why wouldn’t you be? Look at you, playing around with fish like an overgrown foal. Yet really, you want nothing more than to be as high-and-mighty as the likes of Celestia. Don’t you?”
Sea Swirl’s face hardened like glass. “That’s not true.”
Yet the smirk saw through all the lies. “Please. It’s written all over your face. You’re desperate. You hang around with me just so you can snatch a spark of greatness off my flame.”
“That’s not true,” hissed Sea Swirl in sudden pain, while Sunset stood there calmly and smirkingly snapping her dreams one-by-one.
“And now you think you’re some kind of high-society knight riding in to rescue me. Well, guess what: You’re not high-society, you’re not a knight, and the closest you ever got to either was dressing up as Sir Canterlot for Nightmare Night. But you’d be better off as a background peasant in the Hearth’s Warming pageant.”
“Sunset!”
“Because that’s all you’ll amount to, Sea Swirl. You’re background! You’re wishy-washy! Whereas I’m front-and-centre, the star of the show, and in the graces of the most powerful unicorn of all time.”
“But –”
“You’ve been slowing me down for too long, Sea Swirl. It’s time you were no longer a factor in the equation.”
“You can’t do this to me!”
“No? I’m done with you.” Sunset straightened up, smirk scorched off instantly. “Get out of my house.”
“Wh… What?”
Sunset turned away, but her head hung low, either through disgust or – Sea Swirl half-dared to hope – shame. “I don’t need distractions. I said get out.”
“But –”
“GET OUT!”
The glare. The burst of flame. The shock as Sea Swirl threw herself away and stumbled towards the door. Sunset hadn’t aimed a blast at her. Just thrown up a wall of fire to scare her. But in that instant, it worked; a demon had peered out of Sunset’s eyes. One Sea Swirl had never seen before.
Sunset’s chest heaved with the effort spent. Her twirling mane was bedraggled. She looked half-abused with madness.
“If that’s what you really want,” said Sea Swirl –
“It is!”
“…then… I’ll go. Since… that’s what you… really want.”
Heart beating under a rush of complete incomprehension, but certain only of her own unbreakable love, Sea Swirl backed out of the room and out of the house, fear ready to flee at any time. She’d be back. She knew she had to come back. But only if that was what Sunset wanted.
After all, Sunset would change her mind.
Wouldn’t she?
Alone again. Sea Swirl, by the seashore. Sitting on the dock, far away from their moored boat and its clunking, muttering crew.
She’d only managed a few steps before sheer defeat stopped her. She’d sat down heavily.
Goodness knew she’d hoped to make this adventure count. She’d disillusioned Sunset of all those fanciful traveller’s tales, nonsense about sea monsters that’d drag down ships and kill you on sight. They were curious, intelligent, living creatures. Fish themselves had all those colourful feelings. They weren’t moving props. Nor alien things.
She’d wanted Sunset to hear what she heard. All those beautiful songs. That relaxing ebb and flow of waves. Nothing to be scared of at all.
Yet she turned around.
Sunset’s hoofsteps clunked across the planks towards her. They stopped at once.
Sea Swirl ignored her again. Yes, even when she drew up right alongside.
“If it helps,” whispered Sunset, “I’ll make sure you get an equal share of the credit. More than that, in fact. You were magnificent down there. Compared to you, I was a joke.”
Those words came down heavily. Dull as rocks.
“We didn’t get it,” said Sea Swirl to the floor.
“Hm?”
“The Everlasting Fire. Who knows where that’ll end up now?” She forced herself to add, through gritted teeth: “I failed.”
Nearby, the beach lay gold under the sunset orange of the sky. Waves lapped, briefly easing her heart.
“How?” said Sunset, surprised.
“I’m only good at adventures underwater. Look at me. I’m background. You’ve been on hundreds of adventures all over. This was my only chance to even pretend I was as good as you, and I sucked.”
To her own surprise, she felt Sunset’s forelimb wrap around her shoulders, tighter than she’d ever gripped before. Sea Swirl held her breath in shock; until now, she’d always been the one to hug for stress, not the other way around. Deep down, her pain scorched her from the inside-out.
“Don’t,” she said, but only out of principle; most of her longed for this grip to tighten, to never let go. “We’re water and fire. It won’t work out. It never has.”
Sunset whispered in her ear. “I’m not gonna lie, Sea Swirl. I don’t think I’m cut out for the depths just yet.”
“I knew it.”
“It was scary, and weird, and I don’t have a clue about any of it. I just don’t see things the way you do.”
Vision swimming and hot, Sea Swirl turned to the smile next to her. “Sunset, I’m sorry. I’ll understand if you don’t want m–”
“But I saw the colours you made. I don’t understand them, but I do understand this: they mean the world to you. That’s… kinda what made it so exciting. I’d love to understand it the way you do. I’m willing to try. Try diving, try staying by your side, try facing our monsters, try being… well, more like you.”
Sea Swirl squinted with suspicion. Not a flicker betrayed Sunset. Not a waver weakened her smile. Yet Sea Swirl’s senses read deeper into the soul, and found a small flame. Tiny. Humbled. Almost dead. Still there, all the same.
It must have been killing Sunset to say this much. Nightmares drifted like shapes in and out of the flame. Nonetheless, Sunset’s whisper went on.
“Today – in fact, all this time – you were better than a hero to me. You’re more fascinating than that. Stranger, yes, but more wonderful. I… guess it took me too long to see it.”
“No…”
Sunset sighed. “I was wrong. I need you. I’ve always needed you.”
Sea Swirl returned the embrace. Heart-warming or soothingly cool, it was the same magic. Shameless she was: no need for shamanistic secrecy with this kind.
She wondered if they could go bowling tomorrow.
Before then, Sunset turned her round to see:
The sunset, washing the ocean orange.
The waves, blazing like fire across the beach.
They watched, entwined, as long as both elements stayed united. Never mingling. Yet always there.
