Memories are not a continual flux.

The life, in due time, transforms in a fluctuating succession of isolated moments, those that marked specially the life of a person.

The dark bolt was heading towards Aitana. The runes over her armour shone a moribund light, incapable of stopping the spell. And her owner, knowing that she was not going to be able to dodge it, could not help but to see all her life passing in front of her.

Her first expedition.
When Manresht caused panic to spread in the university of Manehattan.
The day in which she met Hope Spell, and how wrong her first impression about him had proven to be.
When they went to the north in chase of the Weischtmann.
When she awoke in the hospital of the Crystal Empire.
The note...

After that, her memories were blurred, as a part of her life that she didn't want to recall. She remembered sorrow, sorrow hidden under capes and capes of overconfidence and aggressiveness. She knew that she tried to fill the hole in her heart... with too many ponies. But it was a vague memory, like a dream, like an illusion of something that should not have been part of her life.

But her memories clarified after the appearance of the labyrinth. She ventured inside it without any doubt, maybe searching a way to scape from the loop in which she had trapped herself, or maybe searching death itself. Aitana never knew what she was really searching.

But, instead, she found her. She found her, the pony that finally managed to make the archaeologist go over what had happened in the north and keep going forward. The pony that she had dared to consider, again, the love of her life.

And she corresponded her. It had been a whole year since that. She closed her eyes, while the dark necromancer pronounced damned arcane words. Aitana whispered in her mind three simple words:

“I'm sorry, babe”

The bolt got closer, bursting in necromantic energies, and, although the archaeologist tried to dodge it, she knew she was not going to do it in time. She prepared for the end, she didn't care about dying if with that she could put that creature to an end. But she regretted deeply to be separated forever from her loved one. Aitana knew that she would never forgive her for having left her behind.

“I'm very sorry, babe”.

Author's Note

If you are reading this, thank you very much.

All this story is already published in spanish in fanfiction.net. As I was tired of not receiving almost any feedback (spanish fiction truly sucks with very few exceptions), I decided to restart my project to translate all my fanfictions to english. So, if you like it, please let me know. And if you don't like the story, please let me know too! I will really thank any feedback!

Also, I'd thank if you can point grammar or format mistakes, english way of novel-writing is very different from spanish -although I learned a lot by reading english fiction-.

This was just a prologue, next chapter is a lot longer. "The hell's fever" is roughly 50k words in spanish, we'll see how much it turns out in english.

Aitana Pones is going to be a trilogy:
-Aitana Pones: "The hell's fever"
-Aitana Pones: "The tomb in the north"
-Aitana Pones: "The labyrinth of Nightmare Moon"

Hope you enjoy it.