I know a roc from a handsaw.

Prologue to a prologue.

Like a cheap rainbow, Celestia’s hair whipped about with all the grace of a wet trout. This was the side of the goddess figure that most certainly never showed itself to the world. Even if she did, she would be declared an imposter.

This was the version of Celestia that was left after another place she knew had changed too much, or something beloved to her was destroyed. This was the version of Celestia that had strung a smile across her face for too long, and needed just a day, maybe half of that, to fix herself back into working conditions.

Staring at her, just as always, was a bird with feathers like fire. A phoenix, and according to him… or her… one of the most dashing and or beautiful phoenixes.

“Sometimes, I wish that I could undo everything. I wish that these new chess pieces understood exactly the sort of sacrifices they are being weighed against.”

Then she laughed, springing back together. “Not for another year, though.”

The phoenix trilled at her and preened at a loose ember.

Then the mare of the sun turned away from her fiery bird and smiled like she hadn’t in a while. “I wonder if anyone is alive that still knows your name?”

Then she laughed. “Besides me.”

The phoenix trilled.

"Probably not."

Then she paused, just once more and walked over to the phoenix and scratched it under it's perdition chin.

"How did the story of how you came to be a phoenix go again?" She smiled faintly.

"Oh yes..."

"My heart beats in my chest. I feel it like a rough river, torrenting, querying, something vicious, something impossible to really describe without merely restating something I knew already."

...