From Dust to Light

by Nharctic

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Tragedy
Length: 1932

Celestia died, yet she did not pass on. This is the story of that moment and those that come after.

–CANCELLED–
I have completely lost my way with this one, and have no desire to finish it.
Celestia died, yet she did not pass on. This is the story of that moment and those that come after. Though it may seem to be told out of order, it does actually have reasoning behind it.
The second story in a series telling the tale of Death and the Gatekeeper.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-04-16 23:29:31 UTC

Chapter 1: The Gatekeeper

        Celestia awoke to a world of grey, a drained and empty mirror of Equestria... It felt like she was in an old, torn photograph that gathered dust in some forgotten drawer- one that had been replaced by brighter, more recent pictures.

        “How curious,” observed a glum voice, echoing with memory.

        In the corner of her eye, she saw Death in his true form: Death was still wrapped in his cloak, but the cloak was clean and untorn; trimmed with gold. His thin shoulders did not slump as if bearing countless sorrows, and shadowy wings sprouted from his back. The Scythe seemed sharper, even, and the black wood seemed newer. “You seem to be able to resist the call of the Gate.”

        She tried to keep calm. “Where are we?”

        “This is the realm between this world and the next, one that some call the Ethereal. Time has no meaning, for Time has not yet begun and has already ended,” Death explained, sitting down on the side of Celestia’s bed.

        “Are you going to take me to the Afterlife?” she asked, expecting Death’s agreement. As she spoke, she stood up, getting out of the bed.

“I am obligated to ferry you to the After-realm from your world. This... is not you world.”

This was an alternative she did not like. “I’m trapped here... forever?”

He tried to chuckle, but it came out as a choked laugh. “No, Celestia. There are ways out, back into your world. Those ‘Gates’ are partially my domain... and they should be open to you.”

“So... you’re letting me go?”

“I don’t like my job, Celestia. I’m quite happy to take any excuse to not kill those I come to collect, but this is the first time in centuries that this has happened,” He began, before inhaling sharply- as if he had remembered something terrible, “Oh, no.... The Ferrymen! How could I have forgotten!?”

Celestia searched her memory, but all she found was a nagging feeling she’d heard of them. “The Ferrymen?”

“The guards of the Ethereal. Unlike myself, they take pleasure in their job. Whenever a soul finds its way into the Ethereal- which many do- it is their duty to capture them and send them to the After-realm. Here, take this-” Death extracted a medallion from his cloak, his skeletal hand whiter than bleached snow.

Celestia took it, putting it around her neck.

“Run to the center of the Everfree, as fast as you can. There should be a Gate there. Go through it, and show the medallion to the Gatekeeper-” A demonic screech cut through the room, and Death himself looked nervous. “There isn’t much time. I’ll be able to distract them for a moment, but that’s it. Run!”

Celestia ran, galloping as if the very castle would fall apart behind her. The darkened marble rooms of her tower seemed to lean inward as if they were waiting to pounce, and the shadows themselves seemed hungry. She barely touched the ground as she galloped down the stairs, throwing doors open with no time for subtlety.

Another disturbing screech reached her ears as she took flight, but she dared not look back. Whatever beings made those noises kept making them, and no matter how fast she flew, they always seemed to come from every direction. A great and terrible voice responded to them, quiet yet powerful- the meaning of the words slipping from her mental grasp.

A lance of shadow flew past her, trailing smoke.

She flew on, the medallion growing heavier and heavier...

Thud. The sound was sickening, and organic, as if sword had met flesh- but gotten caught on the bone below.

A moment of numbness, and then pain shot through her, feeling as if her blood had frozen solid- centered on a point of cold steel. As she fell through the grey sky, a detached thought wondered if she could actually die here.

Oh, gods below... That’s Celestia!

What is she doing here?

I don’t know, but it looks like she was hit by a Shadowspear... help me pull it out, quickly!

Are you insane!? She’ll bleed to death!

And if we don’t take it out, her essence will be destroyed. Unless you’re willing to ask a Ferryman to lend you the antidote, of course.

....Fine. I’ll help.

“Should be...”

Celestia blinked, groaning. Where was she?

“I think she’s awake!” exclaimed a blurry, blueish shape.

“...It looks to be so,” Agreed another blurry shape, moving closer.

“Princess Celestia, are you okay?”

She blinked, things coming into sharper focus. The closer pony was a purple unicorn  mare wearing a brown, slightly patched cloak, and the blue pony behind her was a pegasus mare. “I... think so?” Celestia managed, trying to get up.

“Don’t move just yet, Princess. That wound was quite nasty.”

Things blurred again as her strength left her.

Winter, would you mind getting the door for me?

You do realize what you just said, don’t you?

...Yes, I do. Still, if they knocked, it’s best to let them in.

What  if it’s a Ferryman?

Ferrymen don’t knock, Winter.

Good point.

.... Well, who is it?

Clover, you won’t believe who it is.

Let me guess, a Ferryman who wants to set us free?

No.

Death himself?

No.

Alright, I give up.

It’s the Gatekeeper.

No, seriously. Who is it?

It is actually the Gatekeeper. Seriously.

Wh- H.... What? Let him in, then!

Good day, Clover and Winter. I’d love to stay, but the Ferrymen aren’t going to wait outside patiently.

Y-you’ve come for Celestia, then?

Correct. I have come for Celestia. How are her injuries?

She got hit by a Shadowspear, but she’s healing quickly.

Excellent. Now, there isn’t much time. Thank you for taking care of her.

        “...stia....”

        Celestia stirred again, unsure of her location. “Ugh.. it’s not time to raise the Sun yet... let me sleep...”

        Somepony- or somebody- laughed, a sound like water over crystal. “Indeed, but that’s hardly the point.”

        Reluctantly, Celestia opened her eyes and gasped.

        Looking down on her was what she would describe as the very opposite of Death himself. The being looked female, with piercing emerald eyes,  raven hair, and a robe of white and silver. White wings sprouted from her back, with every feather subtly shimmering in a rainbow of colors.

        She smiled radiantly. “I’m told that I leave a far different impression than Death. How are you feeling, Celestia?”

        “I feel....” Celestia thought for a moment. “I feel better than I did before.”

Celestia tried to get up, but the radiant being stopped her with a gentle hand. “You are well enough to try and stand, I see- but you are not well enough to hold your own weight.”

“Are... are you the Gatekeeper?” Celestia asked hesitantly.

“I am,” the being confirmed, “And soon it will be time for you to go...” the Gatekeeper trailed off, her thoughts elsewhere.

Celestia looked around the room they were in- if you could call it a room. Her bed was in the middle of a gazebo that looked out over a bright field with the occasional building or tree, and the Sun- but this was not her Sun, she could tell- glowed gentle rays of light.

“It is time,” murmured the Gatekeeper,  turning what Celestia recognised to be Death’s medallion over in her hands. Speaking more loudly, and to Celestia, she said, “Good luck, Celestia.”

Everything ceased to exist, as if all of her senses had been numbed.

Celestia shot out of bed, panting. The world around her was the Equestria she knew- and this was her room. Canterlot was exactly as she remembered... was it all a dream?

“It wasn’t a dream, Celestia.”

Celestia looked to her left, just in time to see a tall, skeletal figure dissolving into mist.

Chapter 2: Stories

“I think, therefore I am is the statement of an intellectual who underrates toothaches. I feel, therefore I am is a truth much more universally valid...”

― Milan Kundera, Immortality

“When you can live forever what do you live for?”

― Stephenie Meyer

I sit upon the precipice of the Apocalypse, as I have for many hundreds of years. I remember the days that I had a duty; I was the one who brought the Sun. The gears of the cosmos, though, found a new guide; but all I can remember is lavender and blue.

The crumbling ruins of a great city guard my decrepit halls; its name faded from my mind long ago. Nature has taken its toll, the towers no longer stand straight and tall. Brief flashes of memory let me recall that the city fell, and I was dead; but my name is faded and my eyes grey.

Everything grows dull with time, and I am no exception. Without love and warmth, I am growing more like a moving statue and less like a living pony.

        “It is strange to see you here, Celestia.” The voice was empty, cutting with a blade as sharp a bad memory.

        Celestia... that is what I was. The voice that had spoken was familiar, yet the name was beyond my grasp. “Who... are you?” I croaked, my voice almost forgotten from disuse.

        “I am Death,” the voice replied, its owner stepping into view. He, for I think it was a he, was wrapped in a ragged black cloak, one that had seen an eon too many pass by.

        I felt like I should have been afraid, but I was not. Death, at least, was a word I remembered. “Why have you come?”

        “It is time...” He looked up at the red sun, leaning on a scythe that used to be black, “It is time for you to leave, Celestia. The world is dying.”

        “It’s time for me to die?” I guessed, hesitantly.

        Death sighed. “Yes, it is. You are one of the last to go, really... only one or two others still live.”

        A flash of lavender, the warmth of memory. I knew not what it meant, but I felt like I knew one of the ‘others’. I took a deep breath. “Very well.”

        “Wait!” shouted a pony’s voice, evoking lavender in my mind.

        Death looked up. “Ah, Twilight. Why have you come?”

Twilight. Lavender. I knew this pony- the lavender alicorn who had landed between us. “Twilight... I know that name...”

        The pony cried, and I felt the irresistible urge to lay a wing over her, to comfort her.

        “Perhaps there is time for stories, before the end?” Death asked, sitting down on a ruined stone.

        “I hope so,” replied Twilight, looking wearily up at the sun. It seemed to grow dimmer by the second.

        “Maybe I’ll remember something, finally,” I added.

        Death nodded. “At the least, the Gatekeeper is able to come...” he trailed off for a moment wistfully. “She wouldn’t miss this for anything, I think.”

        “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” The voice was female, and its owner seated herself next to Death. They looked as if they were exact opposites; Death in his ragged, torn cloak of shadow, his body a living skeleton of a forgotten creature, and the Gatekeeper, in her robe of light, with piercing eyes of green and hair of black.

        “Ah, it has been too long... we last saw each other at the very beginning,” explained Death.

        Twilight looked ecstatic. “Oh, so much to ask, so little time!” she exclaimed, “But the stories should come first. Who wants to tell theirs?”

        The Gatekeeper nodded. “I’ll go first. Now, where to begin...?”