I silenced my alarm by reflex before so much as cracking an eye. The dim red digits floating in the darkness pronounced the time as 2:15 in the morning.
I had two hours, twenty-six minutes until my client was to depart from the mortal realm. Stifling a yawn, I slithered out from the covers of my bed and onto the floor, fighting the siren’s call that was the warmth beneath the sheets. As I rose, I heard an unintelligible murmur from Wheatberry on the other side of the bed, who burrowed further under the soft comforter. The midnight chill drained the heat from me as I stumbled towards the bathroom and quietly shut the door before turning on the lights.
I winced at the sudden glare from the tile walls, then took a comb to my green tangle of mane. After spending the better part of ten minutes styling it as presentably as I’d ever hope to make it at this hour, I slipped into the white suit hanging on the doorknob behind me and clipped my badge onto the front pocket. After a final yawn, I crept from the bedroom and down the stairs to the living room. Flicking on the lights, I grabbed my schedule sitting on top of the end table. At this point, my vision had cleared up enough to read the bold letters heading the document.
Mar. 10, 1005, 4:36 A.M. AST:
Summer Peach - 91 y 5 m 14 d
Room 205, Black-Eyed Susan Nursing Home, Manehattan
I took a moment to examine the photo of the frail unicorn mare accompanying the name. Old, tired eyes stared back, magnified by the clouded lenses of spidery wire-rimmed spectacles. Her faint smile bespoke a life well-lived, and now seemed to call out for somepony from the Great Beyond to bring her home to the rest she rightfully deserved.
Two chimes rang from the clock on the hearth, marking thirty minutes before the hour. I slid the schedule neatly into my briefcase, careful not to wrinkle it in the process, then headed out the door into the still Nirvana night.
The rainclouds had cleared, giving Manehattan the appearance of a cavern full of polished jewels from afar, but as I pulled into Belmont Station, garish neon shone from numerous puddles in the streets.
A pair of pegasi blocked my path as they stumbled into a waiting cab, oblivious to my presense. My stomach did cartwheels as the stench of cheap wine laced with rotgut whiskey assaulted my nostrils. A little further up Chestnut Boulevard, two ponies, their faces masked by black bandanas, rummaged through the contents of a pouch beside a motionless unicorn.
“Beh!” The first pony stuffed the coins in his overcoat pocket. “Thirty bits. Let’s beat it before the po-po arrive.”
The pair ducked into an alleyway and vanished into the night. I continued down the boulevard past the unconscious pony. A thin rivulet of blood, black under the streetlights, ran from his nose, but he was still able to produce a groan and a twitch. This was not the first time that I’d seen this happen, and it would not be the last. But this unfortunate pony would live to see another day. Besides, he was beyond my power to help. Somepony from the mortal realm would have to come to his aid. As for me, I had another duty to attend to.
I arrived at the nursing home at twenty-nine minutes past the hour, giving me a whole seven minutes to spare. After apparating through the closed door, I proceeded down the main hallway at a leisurely trot. Save for a couple of caretakers checking on their patients, the corridor was devoid of life.
Just as Summer’s failing body would be soon.
Two minutes and a flight of stairs later, I stood in front of room 205. The last caretaker that had been here had left the door ajar, letting a small sliver of moonlight into the hallway. Inside, Summer’s skeletal figure lay on her bed a few feet from the window. Her half-open eyes stared into nothingness and her chest rose and fell with the humming and hissing of the ventilator.
It was four thirty-two. The second hand dragged as it rounded the clock. Four thirty-three. Four thirty-four. Four thirty-five.
Four thirty-six.
As Summer’s last heartbeat faded, a pink ball of light rose from her stilled chest, banishing the darkness from the room. Four tendrils descended from the ball and solidified into four strong, elegant legs. A mane and tail took shape moments later, thick and green as they were in Summer’s prime. Then her face appeared, unmarked by the decrepitude of old age.
Just as suddenly as it began, Summer’s rebirth ended with her life force settling gently to the floor, her limbs folded beneath her. I went to nudge her just as her back leg started to kick. She slowly raised her head, squinted around at her surroundings with unfocused eyes, and took a deep breath before she spoke.
“I feel… strange.”
She lifted up one of her hooves, examining it like a newborn. Rising to her hooves, she sighed as she arched her back, rediscovering the strength that time had claimed in her later years. She smiled as she looked back at her tail, flicking it in a perfect arc. Eventually, her eyes rested on me and she let out a small squeak.
“Oh, I thought I was alone. Who are you? You don’t look like an attendant.”
I took a small step forward and made my best attempt at a reassuring smile. “My name is Cornhusker. I’ve come to escort you to the Great Pasture.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘the Great Pasture’? That means I’d have to be—”
The realization came in the form of widened eyes. Summer spun around to face her bed. As I sat beside her, her ears flattened against her head. “I-I’m… I-I… it happened,” she said, placing her smooth hoof up next to the wrinkled one that now lay lifeless on the mattress. “Wow. My body has definitely seen better days,” she murmured, the corner of her lips curling upwards ever so slightly. She stared at the corpse for a moment longer before turning back to me.
“Who did you say you were?”
“Cornhusker. I’m a Psychopomp, somepony who escorts the dead to the afterlife,” I replied. “The time has come to bring you to your new home.”
Summer closed her eyes in contentment. “About time, too. The food was starting to get bland. But can I quickly take a look at myself in the mirror before we go? Just for curiosity's sake.”
“Sure. I’ll wait out here.”
She turned from the bed and entered the bathroom. She ran her hoof through her mane repeatedly, each stroke causing it to bounce and dance. She let out a song-like "aah" as she felt every part of her youthful body. Satisfied with the state of her new form, she met me at the exit.
“Hold on tight,” I said, pressing my hoof in her shoulder.
“But you’re an earth pony. How are we supposed to get through that door.”
“I’ll show you,” I replied. In a moment, both of us had apparated outside the door.
It was now about an hour since the train had left Belmont Station, with Summer and me occupying a couple of back-row seats behind other Psychopomps and their clients. We emerged from a tunnel, and I pointed out the window, directing Summer’s attention to a forest of aspen trees bathed by moonlight in the distance. “You were asking earlier about what the Great Pasture was like. We’ve just entered it. What do you think?”
Summer stared. “This is the Great Pasture? It looks very much like Equestria,” she said, after what seemed like minutes. “I thought it would be just a big, endless field where ponies frolick and play under a sunlit sky for eternity.”
“It’s more like Equestria than you think,” I answered. “We’re heading towards the city—we call it Nirvana—where nearly everypony resides. We’ll arrive in about half an hour.”
“Nirvana? Like cities in Equestria?”
“Well, not exactly like, but very close,” I replied. “You’ll live in a house. There are places to shop and eat. There are—”
“Eat?” Summer’s ears perked up. “But why would you need to eat if you don’t have a body anymore?”
“Your life force functions similar to a mortal body,” I replied. “While eating and sleeping are not necessary for your existence, you’ll still feel hunger and the need to rest.”
“But if you eat, does that mean you need to… erm… relieve yourself?”
“Yes, we have bathrooms in the Great Pasture.” I bit my lip. The rhythmic clanking of wheels on rails filled the awkward silence of the next few minutes.
Summer was the first to speak up. “So, did you have a body at one point? Did you live in Equestria?”
My heart skipped a beat. “That’s a question I haven’t heard in awhile. But yes, yes I did.”
“How long ago did you die?”
“Just over twenty years ago.”
“So it’s been a while. How old were you?”
I sunk my head. “Thirty-eight.”
Summer put her hoof to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Forgive a nosy old mare.”
“There’s no need to apologize.” I turned to the window as the train zoomed by a small farmhouse. “It’s just been a long time since I thought about it.”
“But still, to die at such a relatively young age…” Summer gazed down at the floor before looking back in my direction. “What happened?”
A dark orange haze surrounding us.
Thick smoke poisoning my lungs.
Bodies pressed against the floor.
Six ponies huddled together.
In a moment, I was brought back to the present. “House fire.”
“A fire? That’s horrible,” Summer whispered. I felt her sharp, penetrating gaze on me. “Were you the only one?”
I shook my head. “My entire family was sleeping when it started. My youngest daughter was the only survivor.”
Summer’s frown became less pronounced “I knew a stallion who lost his parents before he was ten,” she said. “I can only imagine how hard it must’ve been for your daughter, to lose everyone she loves at a stroke. Did she have aunts or uncles take her in? Grandparents?”
“No,” I muttered. “She was orphaned, just like my wife and I were when we were little.” I slowly raised my eyes from the floor. “Her luck has changed since then, though. A wonderful mare adopted her about a year after the fire. She grew up and married a fine stallion. They now have a four-month-old foal. She’s got the makings of a great mother.” I smiled.
Outside, the sun peeked over the Nirvanian hills. On the horizon, hundreds of skyscrapers glowed in the dawn. “Well, that’s enough about me, I guess. Let me tell you a little more about Nirvana…”
Years of experience had taught Wheatberry exactly what I needed after a long night on the job: The aroma of oatmeal and fresh-brewed coffee welcomed me as I stepped through the front door. Hanging my suit inside the closet, I took out my watch and checked the time.
Seven-thirty.
It was at that moment that a ton of bricks landed squarely on my shoulders. My legs buckled slightly as I closed the door behind me.
Flames crawling up the walls.
Heat singeing our coats.
Me begging her to run.
Children sobbing in Wheatberry’s embrace.
I gasped and shook my head. The fire was gone, replaced by sunlight filtering through the windows. Trembling, I wiped my brow.
“I’m home,” I shouted. Wheatberry trotted out from the kitchen a couple of seconds later, her golden mane running down her neck in a neat braid and a white apron fastened around her waist.
“Hello, Dear. I’ve got your breakfast ready on the table.”
“Thanks, honey,” I said, kissing her lightly on the cheek. Walking to the kitchen, I nearly tripped over my front hooves. “I think I might need an extra cup or two of coffee this morning. I’m beat.”
“I’ve got an extra pot brewing right now,” Wheatberry said as she followed me into the dining room. “The kids stopped by. I figured that you and they would need it.”
My two sons and two daughters sat around the table, surrounding a collection of colorful cereal boxes. “Morning, Dad,” Gale croaked between mouthfuls of Honey Oat Loops.
“Morning, Gale,” I replied with a smile that belied my energy level. I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down next to Topsoil, who was battling to keep his eyes open as he shoveled oatmeal into his mouth. “Morning, Topsoil, River, Firecracker,” I said, nodding to each bleary-eyed pony in turn.
River and Firecracker blinked vacantly at me as though I spoke in Prench. Topsoil prodded his breakfast with his spoon. “Hi, Dad,” came his mumbled reply.
“Rough night? How was the jazz contest?”
The half-asleep earth pony sipped his orange juice. “If by rough night, you mean getting eliminated at the second round, then you’re not entirely wrong.”
“I told Topsoil not to do Down Up City,” Firecracker said, “but no…”
Topsoil gently set his spoon down beside his bowl. “What was I supposed to pick, Crack? Do a low-level piece and we don’t score high. Do a more advanced piece and lose points when we slip up. We’re good, but that’s all we are: good.”
River laid her head on the edge of the table. “We just need to practice more.”
“When?” Firecracker said. “The only times we see each other are after nine in the evening and at breakfast if we’re lucky.”
Gale put a hoof to her chin. “Frankly, we’ve been playing the same stale songs for the past twelve years. We’re in a rut.”
“So are you saying we quit?”
“No, not like that!” Gale said. “I was just saying we need to try something different. Classical, hip-hop, contemporary…”
Column of smoke rising.
Red lights flashing around us.
Embers fading, cooling.
My children's debate faded out of focus. I rested my head on my table and let out an exasperated sigh. Wheatberry turned towards me, setting down the glass she had been wiping clean.
“Husk? What’s wrong?”
I shifted my head slightly. “Nothing. Just tired.”
“That was not a ‘tired’ sigh. Something’s bothering you.” Wheatberry’s eyes stared directly into mine for the longest time, as if going through all of the recordings of my thoughts for the past day. She then said something that confirmed my suspicions of her reading my mind.
“It’s the fire, isn’t it?”
Denial was pointless. That mare has her ways of knowing the truth, and nothing I can do can keep her from finding what she seeks. “It came up as we were talking on the train. Even after all this time, I still wonder if I did the right thing.”
“Of course you did,” she said. “You saved her life. Look at her now. She’s a—”
“I know what she is,” I replied. “It was only because we were taken away. Would she be where she is now if we had escaped with her? Would she have been better dying with us, staying with us, growing up with her brothers and sisters?”
“Woulda, coulda, shoulda. I don’t like it when you drive yourself crazy this way.” Wheatberry moved behind me and rolled her hooves on my shoulders. “She’s doing just fine now, and she’s blessed so many lives. We can’t change the past, Husk. Just let it go.”
“Easier said than done.” I downed the rest of my coffee in one gulp and stood up. “But no matter. Do you need help with the dishes?”
“I’ll be fine.” Wheatberry led me out of the kitchen. “You had a long night. Go get some sleep.”
Summer answered the door before I had a chance to knock on it.“Oh, Cornhusker! I forgot you were coming today. Do come in.”
“Thank you kindly,” I replied with a smile. I wiped my hooves on the doormat, removed my hat, and proceeded inside. I was greeted with the sight of snow-white carpets and spotless furniture. The sun reflected off the china cabinet, adding even more radiance to the living room. I sat down at one end of the sofa while Summer leapt in the recliner.
“How are you settling in?” I asked.
“It’s been treating me very well. My next-door neighbors took me around to see the sights yesterday.” Summer drummed her hoof on the arm rest. “As far as finding a job, I have to admit that it’s a little difficult to find something that matches my skill set.”
“Understandable. There’s not much call for doctors and nurses here.”
Summer frowned. “I don’t like the thought of sitting on my rump for eternity. There’s certainly something that I can do to contribute to society.”
I set my briefcase on my lap and opened it. I handed a stack of brochures to my client. “It’s really up to you at this point. Some ponies start on a new career path. Some decide to pursue further education.”
“I see,” Summer muttered, opening one of the university brochures. After reading, she set it down on the end table next to her. “What about being a psychopomp? What’s that like?”
“It has its ups and downs. Most of the time, it’s a pony in their eighties or nineties passing away in their sleep. However, you do get the occasional foal or young adult that get run over by a cart or worse. Thankfully, they’re relatively rare, but they’re still dreadful all the same.”
“What of the ponies that did bad things during their lives? Where do they go?”
I scratched underneath my chin. “It all depends on their situation. Usually it’s a good pony who made some bad choices or didn’t know any better. However, the truly rotten eggs receive a one-way ticket to Tartarus. It’s as bad as it sounds.”
Summer nodded at my response. “Can I ask you something personal?”
My mind drew a blank. “Go ahead.”
“Why did you become a psychopomp?”
We huddled miserably as the unicorn approached. Impeccably dressed in a spotless white-linen suit, he was nothing like the soot-streaked contingent of firefighters and investigators poking through the ashes of what had been our home.
His mournful expression matched his short message. All of us had perished, and he was to bring us to the Great Pasture.
A police carriage passed in front of us. Inside, a green unicorn mare tended to my daughter, the only survivor, who wept bitterly in her arms.
I sat still in the seat. “For her.”
Mar. 24, 1005, 4:38 P.M. AST:
Lightning Bolt - 5 y 0 m 15 d
Clydesdale River, Auxois Forest
Death isn’t choosy in where it makes its claims, and I’m called upon to attend, regardless. This wasn’t my first foray into the deep woods, map and compass in hoof, and it certainly won’t be my last.
I moved at a brisk pace through the towering pines, my appointment in less than an hour with a five-year-old colt destined to meet his end—by drowning according to the paperwork I'd been given. With no established path to follow, it was difficult to make progress through the forest, even for a life force like me. It took longer than I expected to reach the ridge from which the river was visible about a mile away.
I retrieved the compass from my saddlebags and hung it in front of me. The needle was drawn by living energy rather than magnetism. When it settled, I steered my course to the northwest, descended the rocky slope, and quickened my already fast step.
A wall of superheated air swept over my face as I opened the door of our bedroom.
Living waves of flame crawled up the walls, filling the hallway with lurid orange light. A solid wall of smoke reached from knee level to the ceiling. Wheatberry and I were forced to hug the floor, where a pocket of not-quite breathable air remained. We held our hooves to our noses and inched slowly down the hall.
The voice of my eldest child came from behind the closed door at the hallway’s end. “Mom! Dad!”
“We’re coming, Topsoil!” I shouted and crawled faster. I dragged myself along, Wheatberry keeping pace beside me, ignoring the pain erupting on my stomach and in my lungs. Inches became yards, and yards became miles. An eternity passed before I reached the door.
I pressed a hoof against it, but it did not yield. I could hear my children sobbing on the other side. There was nothing for it but to open it myself. Taking a deep breath, I rose to my hooves.
A slip in my gait brought me back to the present. The caws and chirps that had greeted my entry to the woods were drowned in the mighty sounds of the rushing waters. I hurdled a fallen trunk to arrive at the edge of the river, just in time for a diminutive yellow hoof to poke above the rapids before being pulled back under.
“Lightning?” I called, keeping a fair distance from the edge of the bank. “Lightning? Can you hear me?”
No response. He probably couldn’t hear me yet. The river was running more ferociously than normal due to an early spring thaw. Lightning had lost his struggle for life only a couple of minutes ago, so he couldn’t have wandered far. I moved upstream, apparating up a cliff to the top of the falls.
Two pegasi hovered over the river, moving slowly downstream towards me as they searched, their faces contorted with pain and worry. They too called out in the vain hope of finding the colt alive. I said a silent prayer for peace for their souls before moving on.
“Lightning? I’m here to help you.” I got ready to pull my compass out again when I noticed something retreat behind a mossy boulder. I hurried over to the boulder as fast as the exposed roots would allow and looked behind it.
The colt backed against the stony wall, his head turned every which way seeking escape. “Hello, Lightning,” I said, lowering my body to his level. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here to help.”
Lightning shrank beneath my gesture and curled his tail between his legs. “My mommy told me not to talk to strangers.”
I pointed to my badge and forced what I hoped was in ingratiating smile. “I’m just here to help. You can trust me. Can you tell me what happened?”
“I-I don’t know,” Lightning said, rising to a seated position. “I tried to get my ball out of the water. I want my mom and dad. Can you help me, Mr. Policepony?”
I shook my head. I hated having to break the news so bluntly, especially to a five-year-old colt, but protocol dictated complete honesty in my dealings. “Your mom and dad can’t help you now, Lightning. I’m sorry, but you’re dead.”
“Dead? No! No.” Lightning started bawling at the top of his voice. “Mom! Dad!”
I reached out and placed my hoof on his shoulder. “I wish I could make you alive again, but I can’t. I’m here to take you to the Great Pasture instead.”
“No!” Lightning’s wings buzzed, lifting him a foot off the ground. “Get away from me. You’re not a policepony. I’m going to find my mommy.”
A shadow passed over the two of us. “Lightning? Lightning Bolt!” The mare cried. She landed on a high branch and scanned desperately for her foal. “Ray. Please. Tell me you’ve found him.”
“Mommy! I’m down here,” Lightning shouted. His wings beat faster, but he gained no altitude. As if hearing the call, the mother descended from the tree not five paces from the colt. Lightning rushed to her and attempted to wrap himself around her foreleg, but yelped upon contact with her.
“Mommy? Why are you cold?”
The mare buried her head in her hooves. “Please, baby, where are you? Please, please, be alright,” she whispered to herself.
“I’m right here,” Lightning cried. “Can’t you see me?”
I wrapped a hoof around the colt. The mare took to the air once more, flying parallel to the river. “MOMMMMMMY!” Lightning shrieked with a volume that defied his tiny body.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
The colt hung his head. “Mommy. I’m right here,” he whispered, ignoring me just as thoroughly as his mother had ignored him. I wrapped my foreleg around the colt, who began to sob into my sleeve.
“Lightning? You’ve had an accident. You fell in the water. You couldn’t swim. You got tired… and you stopped breathing. You aren’t alive anymore.”
Lightning’s open, innocent face scanned mine, searching desperately for some scrap of hope to seize onto. “But… mommy—”
“Your mommy and daddy will see you again.”
“When?”
“It will happen, eventually,” I took out a kerchief and wiped his nose. “One day, they’ll come to the Great Pasture, too.” I checked my watch. “But we need to hurry. We don’t want to miss the train.”
Lightning poked his head out from between my legs as we arrived at the Eden Daycare for Deceased Colts and Fillies. Hundreds of foals ran among the playgrounds and sandboxes scattering the grounds. His eyes opened wide at the massive red brick structure. “It’s so big.”
“Yes, it is,” I replied, finding the courage to smile again. “There are many colts here like you that you’ll make friends with. There’s a cafeteria, a baseball field, and an arts and crafts room. You even have your own room to sleep in.”
More young faces greeted us as we entered inside. Lightning, even though I saw a glint of excitement flash in his eye, clung to me as we proceeded down the main hallway. “Where are we going?” he asked.
I pointed to a yellow mare engaged in conversation with a white stallion. “That’s Mrs. Sunbeam. She’s the headmistress and takes good care of everypony here.”
Wait a second. Is that my boss?
As we approached the pair, that question was answered. The stallion, with his combed black mane, was none other than Hermes, my supervisor for all the days since my arrival in Nirvana. It was very unusual to see him outside of his fifteenth floor office, much less in the daycare. I pulled on my collar and approached the pair.
“Hello, Sunbeam. Hello, Hermes. A little off the beaten path for you, isn’t it?”
“Hello, Cornhusker. How was your day?” Sunbeam replied with a warm smile. Noticing the colt at my side, she lowered herself to the floor. “You must be Lightning Bolt. I’m Mrs. Sunbeam. Do you want to come out and say hi?”
Lightning retreated under the cover of my body. “It’s alright, Lightning,” Sunbeam said. “There’s nothing you need to worry about.”
I’m the one that should be worried right now.
Lightning refused to move. With a little nudging, I was able to bring him out in the open again. “Are you hungry?” Sunbeam asked. “Would you like some ice cream?”
“Ice cream?” Like a mouse creeping out of his hole, the colt inched out of his hiding spot towards the headmistress.
“Yes. We have some in the cafeteria. I’ll take you there.”
Lightning turned back in my direction. “Go on,” I said, giving him a little nudge.
“Uhh, okay,” Lightning said hesitantly. He looked back up at me with quivering eyes. “Are you coming too, Mr. Policepony?”
I felt Hermes’ gaze on me. “I wish I could, Lightning, but I have to go.”
Sunbeam laid a hoof on the colt’s shoulder. “Let’s go see how many flavors they have. I’ll bet we can find your favorite.”
Lightning glanced back nervously as he followed Sunbeam down the hall. As they disappeared down a side corridor, I turned to Hermes. “So, what brings you down from fifteen?”
His somber expression matched the black suit and tie that he wore. “Something’s come up—special assignment.”
“Can you give me a hint?”
Hermes continued to frown. “Let’s wait until we get back to the office.”
“Sure.” Whatever this “special assignment” was, it must be special indeed. Hermes coming to collect me personally was a first. My mind raced through the possibilities—A promotion, training a new hire—but none seemed to merit such extraordinary treatment.
A short taxi ride brought us to the entrance of Kentucky Tower in the middle of downtown. We squeezed into a small elevator, and Hermes pushed the button for the fifteenth floor. “So, how’s the family?”
“Fine. Completely fine,” I stammered. “Our death day anniversary was today. We’re planning to go to the Valkyrie tonight.”
Hermes nodded. “Today, huh? How long has it been? Twenty-five years, if I recall correctly?”
“Twenty-four years, to be precise. And yet it feels like it only happened yesterday.”
“Let me tell you something, Cornhusker,” Hermes said, “I died a over a thousand years before the birth of Celestia and Luna. That means I’ve been dead for nearly two and a half millennia. When you’re here for all eternity, where there’s no beginning and no end, there’s no place for something as insignificant—as finite—as time. Food for thought.”
The elevator doors slid open. I remembered the reason why I was coming up here, and the butterflies in my stomach resumed their dance. My boss headed down the hall and opened the door to his office. “Come on in.” He beckoned with a hoof.
I sat down in the chair in front of the large mahogany desk that filled half the room. Stacks of manilla folders occupied the middle of the desk, but my eyes were drawn to one folder sitting apart to the side. Hermes shut the door and took his seat behind the desk. “As you know, every night, at midnight, I receive the records of the ponies that will pass away the following week.”
“Of course,” I answered, wondering why he made a point of something I had learned my first day on the job.
Hermes placed his hoof on the solidary folder, then stood tongue-tied for a moment. “This arrived overnight. I hate to give it to you, but this is an assignment that you need to perform.”
“I don’t understand. What sort of assignment are you asking me to do?”
Hermes opened his mouth, but closed it again. It was something unexpected from a pony who wasted little time getting to the point. At last, saying nothing further, he pushed the folder across the desk to me.
“Open it.”
I did as I was asked. A quick skim revealed nothing different from the hundreds of other records I have received. The cause of death—a bite from an ice krait—warranted no special attention either. Blinking, I started again from the beginning.
That was when I saw them, the name and the photograph. I looked back and forth between the two for an eternity, struggling to discern whether I was in a dream or reality. But like a flash of lightning, understanding reared its terrible face and wrung my soul.
“No. This can’t be right.”
“I wish that were true. I’m so sorry.”
“This shouldn’t be happening!” I slammed the papers on the floor, scattering them in every direction. “She just had a filly. You can’t do this. Cancel this appointment!”
Hermes shook his head. “It’s out of my hooves.”
“Out of your hooves, is that it?” My temples throbbed as I leaned across the desk. “Is this some sort of game to you? Sit back in your lavish office and play Epona with innocent lives?”
“I am not the executioner, Cornhusker. My orders come from a higher authority, and isn’t my call to make. I only oversee the delegation of these orders.”
“Did you even try and stop them?”
“I did what I could,” Hermes said. “I know how much she means to you. Those who make these decisions are unknown even to me. There’s no point in fighting it.”
My glare softened, accompanied by what felt like my insides turning cold. Hermes walked to my side and sat down. He scooped up the scattered papers papers and slid them neatly back into the folder. “I wish I could change this, but her fate was sealed the moment I received it. There’s nothing more I can do.”
Hermes pressed the folder against my chest, and I clutched it tightly. “I’ll stay as long as you need, if you want to talk about it.”
“No.” I stood up and proceeded to the door with small steps, the folder still in my possession. “I-I just need to be alone.”
“I understand. Once again, I’m very sorry.”
I gently closed the door behind me. I could only make it two paces before my strength failed and I collapsed against the wall. I slowly raised the folder before my face. It took several agonizing minutes to pull the papers out again, all the while praying that somehow the words would magically change on a second reading.
It was the same writ, the same mare, the same sentence of death. Her smile still remained. The last faint ember of hope went cold. As my vision blurred, only one thought possessed me.
I’m sorry, my daughter.
Mar. 31, 1005, 3:37 P.M. AST:
Mi Amore Cadenza - 29 y 6 m 09 d
Room 35, Intensive Care Unit, Sapphire Hospital, Crystal Empire
It was long after dark by the time I arrived home. Lighted windows lined the street, my two-story townhouse no exception. I was halfway up the walk when Wheatberry emerged, eyes streaming daggers. “Cornhusker! There you are! Our Death Day anniversary was tonight. Where were you?” she exclaimed.
Her glare froze me in my tracks. “I got a new assignment,” I said sorrowfully.
“A new assignment?” she challenged, then registered something in my demeanor. “Husk? What is it?”
I drew forth the folder from my saddlebag. Together with the somber countenance I bore, realization dawned in her eyes, yet she still asked the question I dreaded. “Who?”
A tear dripped from my eye and splashed on the path. I ran from my spot towards my wife, wrapping my forelegs around her neck and resting my head on her shoulder.
“It’s her.”
Wheatberry’s body stiffened. “Cadance? Now? She’s not even thirty.”
I broke the hug and marched into the lounge. Wheatberry rushed up to my side. “You have to go to them tomorrow. You need to tell them she has a family to raise and that she needs more time.”
“Don’t you think I tried?” I yelled. “I begged. I bargained. I shouted. Hermes didn’t budge. His hooves are tied. We’re just here to do the work while the decisions get made on a whole other plane of existence.”
“Go talk to those ponies then.”
“If they’re even ponies.” My anger spent, I sank down into my recliner. “These decisions are simply passed down. They come from nowhere. And nopony in a hundred generations has had the temerity to go against them.”
“Maybe it’s time somepony did.”
My breathing slowed. I stared at the floor. “What’s the point? We have no power in the mortal realm. Cadance will die next week no matter what I do.”
Wheatberry rubbed her forehead against mine. “At least she had those twenty-four years.”
“She might as well have perished with us.”
With a mighty tug and great personal satisfaction, I yanked the sprawlroot from the ground and threw it atop the little mountain of weeds behind me. Hermes had offered me time off until it was time to carry out my assignment, and I had accepted. But I saw no reason to spend that time sitting around stewing.
A shadow approached me, stopping itself just before my hooves. I looked up to find myself staring into the eyes of a familiar stallion.
“Good morning, Cornhusker,” Hermes said. “How goes the weeding?”
I turned towards another large specimen of sprawlroot. “It’s going fine. I’m a big stallion. I can do this myself. After all, I was a farmer before… that happened.”
I ripped out the weed and moved on to the next. I wiped my brow before pulling. “Have I ever told you about Cadance? She was born three months early. The doctor said she had a two percent chance of survival. Ironic isn’t it? The one that shouldn’t have made it out of the crib outlived all of her siblings.”
This specimen had planted deep roots and was not about to be evicted without a struggle. I clamped my jaws around its trunk and heaved mightily. After long moments, the weed came away along with a great clump of dirt. As I tossed it onto the pile with the others, I turned back towards my boss.
“I’ve waited twenty-four years. But I could’ve waited longer. Why her? Why now?”
Hermes sat down in a cleared out patch of grass and traced his hoof in the dirt. A few moments passed before his reply came.
“Those are questions I cannot hope to answer, Cornhusker.”
I sauntered beneath the enormous maple tree and leaned against it. “Can anypony. Do answers even exist?”
Hermes shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe. Maybe not. There are things that only Epona knows.”
I turned my focus to another sizable sprawlroot that was securing itself to my mailbox. Hermes took a moment to study me. “If there’s anything you’d like to talk about—”
There wasn’t, and I told him so.
“All the same, if you find yourself wanting to talk to somepony.” He shuffled his hooves a bit. “My door’s always open—not that you have to show up at the office between now and… you know.”
“Thanks.”
I clasped my teeth around the weed and pulled. It proved to be the most stubborn of all the weeds I had unrooted thus far, but eventually it too was torn from the earth and tossed to join the growing heap of the vanquished.
Sleepless nights alternated with days crammed with mindless busywork. In this way, time passed until the final day of March. Topsoil, Firecracker, and I spent the morning arranging a bedroom for Cadance while Wheatberry went with my daughters to get ingredients for dinner at the market. At one o’clock that afternoon, we all gathered in the living room.
Firecracker picked up one of the family portraits on the hearth. “We’re going to need a new picture up here soon. It feels so strange, y’know. Being separated for so long, I’ve almost forgotten Cadance’s still our little sister.”
“Remember the flying lessons?” Gale sighed. Her wings drooped to the floor. “She was just starting to land on her hooves instead of her face. To think that now she’s an alicorn…”
“Do you think that she’ll even recognize us?” River asked.
“It’s hard to say.” Topsoil wiped the final traces of dust from the baseboard. “We were yay high when we died,” he said, placing his hoof to mid-chest height. “We’ve changed so much.”
“Some of us have,” Firecracker deadpanned. “You, not so much.”
Gale and River burst into laughter. Firecracker wilted under Wheatberry’s stern glare.
“So, what are we going to do tonight?” Gale asked. “Are we going to go to the park? Play a board game?”
“Board game?” Firecracker rolled his eyes. “Our family’s been separated for twenty-plus years and you want to celebrate our reunion with a board game?”
“Give Gale a break, Crack,” Topsoil said. “She’s out of practice when it comes to entertaining royalty.”
“We’ll have to see,” I replied, slipping on my suit jacket. “Cadance will need some time and space to readjust. Let’s just worry about dinner for right now, okay?”
“Okay.”
My ears slipped through the slits of my fedora as Wheatberry pressed it gently on my head. Ready or not, the time had arrived. I now faced the front door. I had walked through it countless times before, but what lay beyond this day was unexplored territory.
“It’s quarter past,” she said. She nuzzled my neck before giving me a loving kiss. “You’ve got an appointment to keep.”
I stood facing the palace as the train that delivered me to the Crystal Empire pulled away. Leaden clouds blotted the sun from the sky. The colors that once breathed life into the land no longer shone bright. Even the wondrous palace that towered over the other buildings in the city was dim and gray.
My legs carried me to the hospital of their own volition. The city’s ponies mobbed the streets, standing silent vigil while awaiting news of their beloved princess. Candles, many burned down to stubs, were everywhere. Behind the crowd, newsponies struggled to maintain their composure as they reported Cadance’s worsening condition.
I headed down a side road cleared by the Royal Guard. Legions of golden-armored pegasi and unicorns, stone faced and immobile, ringed the hospital grounds. They stood as if they could block Death with their presence. But Death had no interest in them. It had already slipped past their perimeter, and I followed in its wake.
In the lobby, hundreds of books lay strewn across the floor. Some closed, most open, seemingly at random, the scattered volumes turned the marble reception space into a chaotic library reading room. I recognized the five ponies huddled to my left as former bearers of the Elements of Harmony. They sat defeated, reduced to a vain effort to console one another. Princess Twilight sat on the other side, her head buried in her mother’s chest while surrounded by her father, her drake assistant, and the immortal diarchs, the younger of whom was tending to my sleeping granddaughter. I was tempted to linger with this despondent company, but my business lay elsewhere. I hurried down the main hall towards the Intensive Care Unit.
Scores of doctors, physicians, and guards crowded the corridors. Death’s shadow had settled on their countenances. It was a look I was well acquainted with, a look that accompanied the final moments of my life.
“Stay together and follow me.”
I pulled myself along the floor, my wife and children following close behind. The front door was now our only way out. It never seemed so far away at it did now.
Something snapped above us. I heard Wheatberry shout “Look out!”, and I scooted backwards a couple of inches.
The floorexploded in a blaze of red and orange. Sparks raced past me like fireflies. When I was able to open my eyes again, my insides turned to lead.
A solid wall of fire rose from the glowing pile of wood that stood between us and the door. Hellish flames leapt out, singing the fur on my muzzle.
“We’re trapped!” cried Gale. “We’re gonna die!”
No. It can’t end like this. I scoured the wall for a gap, for any way out of the furnace we were trapped in. I was about to give up when I saw it.
The opening was no more than two feet wide. Wheatberry saw it as well. It was the only salvation from the fire, but it was too small. Too small for Wheatberry. Too small for me. Too small for my children, except for one. Between Gale and River was my youngest, her eyes sick with fear.
“Cadance, I need you to crawl up here with me.”
I was so lost in my memories that I failed to notice I had reached my destination—a door protected by two armed guards.
Room 35. I slipped inside.
The white stallion’s face was gaunt. The hollow eye sockets spoke of a place beyond exhaustion. Over and over, he ran a hoof along the withered foreleg of the still figure in the bed while a dark blue unicorn stallion in scrubs examined a green and black screen behind them. A tangle of tubes and wires ran from the patient to bags of fluids and banks of beeping, glowing machines. Her once-lustrous pink coat was scarred by blue and black patches on her chest and legs, and her mane looked as if the slightest touch would turn it to dust. I had to sit next to the weeping stallion to hear his faint pleas.
“I’m here, Cadance. Everything will be okay…”
I held my breath. When I last saw my Cadance in the flesh, she was a five-year-old filly escaping fiery death through an impossibly small opening.
“But, Daddy, what about you?”
“We’ll find another way out,” I struggled to fill my voice with confidence instead of alarm.Dear Celestia, leave one of us alive, I thought, while I fought down my panic and spoke slowly and deliberately. “Get to the front gate and wait for the rest of us there.”
Cadance curled up between her sisters. The heat licked away the tears from her face. “I’ll follow you guys out.”
“Do as I say, Cadance.” I heard a mighty groan overhead. Another chunk of ceilingrained down and landed on the wreckage in front of us. The opening remained intact, but only just.
With all the strength left in me, I grabbed Cadance’s hoof and dragged her to the hole. The little pegasus squirmed and kicked, but my grip held firm. I gave out a painedyell as I shoved her through the opening.
She was safe—and then the tunnel collapsed.
Now here we were, reunited at last, death once again close at hoof. But death would not be cheated twice: She who had escaped the clutches of fire would be claimed by ice.
The doctor jotted a note on his clipboard and sighed. He laid a hoof on the young prince, who shivered as he felt it. “Prince Shining? We need to discuss your wife’s condition.”
Shining turned his bloodshot eyes towards the doctor. “What do you mean?”
“She’s fought a brave fight, and you, along with all of the staff, have supported her at every step, but she’s failing.”
“No. I don’t accept that.” Shining leapt to his hooves. “There has to be more you can do.”
The doctor lowered his head, unable to mask the pain etched in his face. “There’s nothing more to try. The other Princesses’ spell slowed the progress of the venom for half an hour, but it’s now spreading faster than ever and has begun to freeze her vitals.”
He turned away and gazed out the window. The sea of well-wishers had grown, now reaching the base of the palace. Squaring his shoulders, he turned back to the Prince and locked eyes with him. “She’s lost the battle. She only has minutes left to live. Make the best use of that time that you can.”
Shining stomped the heavily reinforced floor so hard I felt it jump beneath me. “Don’t even dare think that. Get another doctor in here. I want a second opinion.”
“But he’ll say the same—”
“Now!”
The doctor quickly nodded his head and rushed to the door. “Can you bring me Doctor Bloodletter? Prince Shining wants a second opinion regarding Princess Cadance’s status.”
I found a clock hanging to the left of the doorway. Three thirty-six.
Two red lights lit up the display, followed shortly by a high-pitched tone. The doctor rushed back to Cadance’s bed, followed by two other ponies in scrubs. The leader barked orders to his comrades, shoving Shining aside to make room for them.
My heart felt as if it would burst out of my chest. The final seconds seemed to drag on, yet felt so short at the same time. Panic and calm vied for control of my mind.
My four children sought shelter between Wheatberry and me. I pulled myself on top of my sons, as did Wheatberry with our two remaining daughters. We could offer our children some small measure of comfort—but not safety. We would die together as a family. All but one.
“Daddy, where are you?” Cadance’s wails were barely audible over the roar of the inferno.
“Listen to me, Cadance.” The superheated air seared my throat and lungs. I gasped the words out as my airway swelled shut. “Get to the front gate. We’ll come for you, okay?”
“But-but—”
“Go!”It was the last word I would speak in this life. A few agonizing seconds followed before I heard the pitter-patter of running hooves towards the front door.
Cadance was safe.
There was the concussion of a thousand cannons going off at once. My eyes, cracked andswollen nearly shut, beheld the wave of fire in the instant before it washed over us. I laid my hoof on my wife’s one final time.
Three thirty-seven.
The room began to fill with a glow like that of the rising sun. A light only I could see streamed from Cadance’s body and coalesced above her in a spinning mass. Bright matter stretched and bent and assembled itself before me, sculpted by invisible hooves.
First came her legs, horn, and face, followed by her mane, tail, and wings. A brilliant flash came after, and Cadance burst from her ethereal chrysalis, her coat restored to its perfect color, her mane flowing in an unfelt breeze. Slowly she sank to the floor, eyes closed in slumber, and settled on her side at the foot of her deathbed.
Her chest rose and fell. Like a sleeping newborn, her hooves twitched with every breath that she took. I placed my hoof on her shoulder, and I felt it push back in response. I had last touched my daughter twenty-four years ago on the carpet of a burning house. Now here I was, all these years later, once again on the floor with her. I gently shook her.
“Cadance, wake up.”
Her eyes fluttered open. “Wha-what happened?” she asked.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered. I extended my hoof, which she took as I raised her up. As she shifted her legs to regain her balance, she turned in my direction.
Her eyes met mine. They sparkled like two amethysts. “I know you.”
“Do you remember me?”
“Of course I do. I’ve seen you in my dreams,” Cadance replied. “But this doesn’t feel like a dream.”
I pushed her forelock past her ear, letting my hoof run over her cheek. “What do you say now?”
Cadance let out an audible gasp. “It-it can’t be,” she said. She brushed my face with her hoof. Her eyes became wet as the realization hit her.
“Daddy? Is it really you?”
I wrapped my hooves around her chest, tears streaming down my face. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Cadance embraced me with a grip as strong as my own. “How are you here? You’re dead.”
“I am dead,” I said. I felt my chest heave slightly. As Cadance looked up in confusion, I continued. “Your old life is over—and your new one has begun.”
Cadance gasped. “Over? You mean I’m dead? No, there has to be a mistake. I can’t be dead now. This has to be a dream.”
I shook my head. “I wish that were the case, but what I said is true. See for yourself.”
Cadance and I turned towards the bed, where the body occupied moments ago by Cadance’s life force now lay inert. The lead doctor draped a sheet over the corpse and shook his head at Shining.
“I’m sorry.”
Whatever color had been present in Shining’s face vanished. The once-proud Captain of the Royal Guard buckled and collapsed on the bed like a rag doll. His chest heaved, but no words came forth, just pitiful sobs like those of a lost colt. Cadance, drawn to the spectacle of her grieving husband, reached forward to wipe the tears from his cheek when she paused. She turned to me.
“But what about Shining?” she asked.
I laid my hoof over my daughter’s shoulder. “He’ll suffer in his grief. And time will pass. And life will go on. Until the day comes when that life ends and Shining finds himself on the same journey you are now beginning. Come, Cadance. It’s time to bring you home.”
Pairs of ponies—Psychopomps and their clients—half-filled the carriage we boarded. Many an eyebrow raised at the sight of the pony beside me. Whispers followed us as we made our way to the back of the carriage.
“Oh my gosh. That’s Princess Cadance.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“She was so young.”
“The poor dear.”
A stallion rose before us and made a small bow. “Forgive me for intruding, but I wanted to let you know how sorry I— all of us are that you didn’t survive.”
Cadance made no acknowledgement and continued her deliberate pace down the aisle, looking neither right nor left, oblivious to her curious companions. She settled in a back-row window seat, and I sat down next to her.
The train jolted forward. Cadance was turned away from me, but I could see her face reflected in the carriage window. Her eyes were dry but unfocused—or maybe focused on the palace. The late afternoon sun rendered its vertical spires in dazzling alabasters and deep shadows. Soon, the sun would sink below the horizon and the palace, its lights extinguished in mourning, would disappear into violets and blacks.
“There was a flower I had never seen before,” Cadance confided in a whisper to the carriage window. The hairs on my neck began to prickle. Ignoring me, she continued her recollection.
“There was a whole patch of them by the cave. They had the appearance of pure ice. Shining and I were hiking in the mountains, you see. I went to get a closer look. Then I noticed that my back leg was going numb. That was when Shining joined me from the trail. I told him that my leg felt funny. We took a close look at it and saw two marks like pin pricks. I could see he was worried. He told me not to move while he started searching the ground. He grunted and stomped, then picked up what was left of a snake. It could have barely wrapped around my hoof once. After that, things started getting confusing. We were a long way from the palace, and Shining had to carry me most of the way, especially towards the end…”
Cadance took a long pause. I was about to prompt her when she started back in. “I was in bed. I felt so cold. And ponies in white coats were everywhere. Somepony said ‘ice krait.’ I knew what that meant.”
Another pause. The eyes reflected in the glass were now bright with tears
“I just wanted to stop and smell the flowers. I never got to say goodbye!”
Cadance buried her head in my shoulder. She cried as I stroked her mane.
The stars were just beginning to appear as the train entered Nirvana’s city limits. We arrived at the station minutes later. A small crowd gathered to witness my daughter disembark, but it dispersed within moments. For all the travelling involved, neither my clients nor I ever had luggage to contend with; Cadance and I were bound from the station by taxi in short order.
“I’m sorry that we left you alone in Equestria, Cadance,” I said. “I’m sorry I lied when I said I’d come for you. Of all of us, you were the one with a chance to live. I just wanted to see you safe.”
Cadance stared at the city skyscrapers in the distance, glimmering under the red-violet sky. “I understand,” she whispered. I could see the effort she put into forcing a smile, but it soon evaporated like smoke.
She curled up in her seat. “It was hard for so long, but my life became a fairy tale, better than any dream that I could ever have. Imagine that! A farmfilly becoming a princess. Except it came true. Better still, I found the love of my life.”
A long silence followed. “Dreams are for fillies,” she finally said, filling each word with toxic bitterness. “Why give me so much, only to snatch it away?”
“I’ve asked myself that question repeatedly ever since I was told you would die,” I replied. Cadance continued to stare out the window while the land that she had ruled retreated behind us. I paused, taking in a deep breath. “What would your life have been if there were no fire that night?”
Cadance remained silent though she already knew. She turned towards me, her ears perked up and her eyes looking into mine. I continued. “You were given a hard path, but it took you where you needed to be—where Equestria and the Crystal Empire needed you to be. Life took so much from you, but gave back so much more. Look what you’ve in turn given to the princesses, to Shining Armor, your subjects.” A lengthy pause followed. I draped my leg around my daughter. “I love you, Cadance, and I’m—our whole family—is so proud of what you’ve done.”
The moon began to rise, casting a silver light on the road before us. “You were a scared filly alone in the world, yet look at the life you made for yourself. Once again, you have a blank canvas before you, but you have the experience of having done it before. And you have your family back, standing shoulder to shoulder with you every step of the way.”
We rounded the final corner. At the end of the street, backlit by the warm lighted windows of our home, five ponies stood on the porch, ready to welcome the lost member back into the fold, ready to be a complete family once more.
“Cadance, welcome home.”
Author's Note
Special thanks to Hyperexponential for the many moons of working with me. Seriously, go check him out.
