“What’s it like to know you’ll die someday?”
“What’s it like to know you’ll die someday?”
It was a strange question coming from beings whose mortality was invariably measured in mere decades, yet seemed to be a rather common theme of the last thousand years. Ironically, most of the askers already spent their short lives trying desperately to scrape the value from every waking moment before they finally passed, so it wasn’t as if they didn’t know.
Perhaps they meant how it would feel to live a hundred times as long, then still die as ignominiously as any other mare or stallion. Or maybe they couldn’t comprehend that a presumed “immortal” would be agreeable to giving up the ghost someday. In truth, it was probably inconceivable to them that any being could ever have “too much time.”
Reaching out with the tendrils of her magic, the Princess of the Moon could feel the energy of the sun behind the mountains. It was older and slightly dimmer now, but only to one who had known it for so long. She coaxed it into the sky, taking extra care to make a slow, smooth transition from the pre-dawn. She’d already set the moon to rest, to begin the sunrise an hour earlier than normal. Yes, the ponies of Equestria would be roused sooner than they expected, and some might be annoyed, but she’d give them an extra hour of night to make up for it later.
As the rising sun crested the horizon and bathed her in a warm embrace, Luna closed her eyes against its brilliant light and smiled. “Hello sister,” she whispered.
Every morning was much the same, except for occasions when she was too tired or ill and had to have one of the others raise the sun for her. This was not her special talent, and it was sometimes taxing, but she relished the opportunity to be close to her beloved Celestia, even if only in heart.
As the sun finally cleared the horizon she gave one final nudge so it would continue drifting lazily across the sky, then released her magic. She breathed deeply and basked in the golden glow, savoring its warmth against her dark coat.
“Such a beautiful sunrise.”
Luna smiled and opened her eyes. “Good morning, Twilight Sparkle,” she said. “Thank you for your kind words.”
The Princess of Friendship half-smiled back from chamber doorway. “Luna, how many times have I told you to stop being so formal?” she gently teased, although her voice rang more melancholy than playful.
“And how many times have I instructed that you not to enter my bedchamber unbidden?” Luna retorted in a mock-serious tone.
“Far too many; I seem to have lost count.” Twilight walked across the room to stand by Luna and closed her own eyes in the warm sunlight. “Good morning, Celestia.”
They stood quietly for a few moments, Twilight seemingly lost in her own thoughts while Luna’s gaze was drawn to the streets below. The city of Canterlot was beginning to stir with the first rays of morning, and shop owners, business ponies, and maintenance workers were all checking their clocks in puzzlement.
The sight simultaneously amused and saddened her. On the one hoof, it was funny to watch them wonder and speculate if the goddesses had finally gone crazy, or try to find the logic or special meaning in such a trivial thing as an extra hour of daylight.
On the other, she knew what it was like to have her sister’s name reduced to myth and legend, an ancient wonder enshrined in eroding statues and faded tapestries, never given more than a passing thought or half-considered prayer.
At least Luna had gotten her own holiday among the citizens, even if it was one born from hatred and fear. Two millennia later, they still celebrated Nightmare Night and told scary stories about the evil princess who tried to banish the sun. The holiday itself was harmless enough; after all, her history was well known and she made no attempt to censor it. The frustration Luna felt stemmed more from the fact that they only told stories about her. A few brief moments of jealous villainy and hatred could be immortalized for centuries, but none remembered the struggles of the righteous, it seemed.
“I can hardly believe it’s been a thousand years.”
The voice roused Luna from her thoughts, and she nodded wordlessly.
“It seems only yesterday…” Twilight stepped closer to the balcony railing and glanced down at the city. “How long do you think until the couriers begin arriving with inquiries?” she pondered, changing the subject unbidden.
“I reckon no longer than a half-hour,” Luna said, “‘Tis usually how long these things take.”
Twilight nodded in agreement. Their voices were soft, respectful of the morning magic that still rested unbroken over the city and castle. “How are you holding up?” she asked. "
Luna sighed. “I am…” She paused for a moment, mulling words about in her head. She could not in all honesty say she was well and fine, for she wasn’t. Yet it would be untrue to say she felt poorly; despite all it stood for, today was probably one of her better days.
Eventually, she settled for the indeterminate middle ground. “I am well enough.”
“Have you planned anything special?”
“Apart from an early sunrise?” Luna shook her head almost imperceptibly. “As the Summer Sun Celebration has already passed, it would seem self-indulgent to commemorate yet another anniversary when only three of us even remember her.”
“She is remembered by the Children of the Sun,” Twilight reminded, and motioned a hoof toward a small chapel in the distance, where a golden sun-tipped spire rose only a little above the surrounding modest homes. “I’m sure they would welcome any opportunity to honor her.”
Luna snorted in derision. “That foalish cult? They pay homage to her image and give alms in her name, but they understand nothing! My sister thought not of herself as a goddess to be worshiped.”
“Their hearts are in the right place,” Twilight countered, “isn’t that worth something?”
The brief flash of anger faded, and Luna exhaled slowly to purge it. “I suppose so,” she admitted, turning from the window and towards her bed. Yes, although the Children of the Sun might be misguided, if nothing else they did well to keep Celestia’s memory alive in their own strange way.
She stepped gingerly onto the plush mattress and laid down on her stomach. Her joints creaked in protest at the motion, and her leg muscles quietly complained of even the brief standing they’d been asked to endure. On the outside, she looked as beautiful and regal as she had for centuries, but her body had begun to fail in less obvious ways.
“Another bad day?” Twilight asked from the window. Her brows were furrowed in concern.
It must have been an unconscious grimace that gave her away, Luna thought. She tried to smile reassuringly. “As I said, I am well enough. While this day is not my best, it is nowhere near my worst.”
Twilight glanced at the glowing orange sunrise once more, then moved to sit on a cushion at the edge of the bed. “I just worry about you, Luna. You’re a lot older now than Celestia ever was.”
“And I have you to thank for it,” Luna replied. Truthfully she was amazed her body had survived this long; she had originally not been much younger than Celestia, even relatively speaking. While the purging magic of the Elements of Harmony may have partially restored her youth, it was mainly Twilight’s painstaking research into life-extending science and magic that was to thank. Research that had blessed not only Luna, but the lives of millions of other ponies as well.
Twilight returned a half-smile, but didn’t seem convinced. “I just wish I could do more; I'm worried the therapies may not be able to sustain you much longer."
“You know as well as I, we cannot count the worth of a lifetime by the number of years in it,” Luna reminded gently. “Believe me when I say I’m ready; my sister left her bright legacy, as you and Cadance will in time. For myself, I’ve done all I can, and I only hope it’s enough.”
With a sigh, Twilight shook her head. “I will never understand why you insist on torturing yourself with that, Luna. You have done more than enough to make up for those times.”
“I hope you are right,” Luna said, “but I cannot be the judge. ”
“I suppose so,” Twilight agreed. “Still, I will do my best to ensure they remember you for the right reasons.”
Luna nodded, and silence fell between the two mares. It was not an awkward emptiness begging to be filled with hollow words, but the comfortable respite between long friends who had shared over a millennium together. They were probably the only ones who truly knew that companionship; even Celestia had not spent so long in company with another near-immortal.
She spent the minutes following a shadow across the floor of her bedchamber, watching the angle it made with the marble tiles. Centuries of practice had honed her skills, but she was often unable to push the sun off at the correct speed or direction. Today, she noted with a little pride that she had gotten that last nudge just right, and it would smoothly dip below the horizon at just the right time with no additional coaxing.
Just like Celestia had, just as Luna and the others eventually would as well. It was an appropriate metaphor, to be sure.
“How much longer, do you think?” Twilight broke the quietude softly without looking away from her own point of silent meditation, whatever it was.
Although the question was reasonable enough, Luna groaned internally; she had planned on breaking the news in a few days; certainly not on this most auspicious of anniversaries, the day Twilight was least likely to take it well.
Still, she knew a platitude or half-truth now would make the reality harder to accept, so she gathered the will to finally say the dreaded words out loud. “I’ve been wondering the same, actually. I finally know what Celestia meant when she said it’s difficult to predict, but... I feel my time will come sometime before the next two weeks are out.”
“That’s... sooner than I expected.”
“To be completely honest, I feared it would have come already,” Luna replied. “I have been saving my strength so I could see this last anniversary of Celestia’s passing.”
“Well..." Twilight swallowed, eyes searching some invisible checklist or calendar. "We still have sessions scheduled; that should help extend the time to make sure you can get the paperwork in order.”
“Actually, I have already signed all the appropriate forms and documents," Luna replied; "They will ensure control of the empire passes smoothly to yourself and Cadance. She will have seniority of course, but power will rest evenly, and you are free to divide responsibilities as you both see fit. As for our therapy sessions, I've decided to discontinue them, and I hope you'll understand.”
If Twilight didn't "understand", her face did not betray it. Instead, she took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Very well,” she said simply, staring off into the distance more pointedly than before. "I assume you have the funeral planned as well?" Though the Princess of Friendship spoke evenly and softly, Luna knew that subtle, almost imperceptible edge in Twilight’s voice was a mere ripple on the surface of a placid lake, and few still alive had seen even a fraction of its turbulent depths.
“...That was actually the next item I wanted to address with you." Luna paused for a moment, steeling herself again. "Before I am too feeble, I wish to follow my sister’s last steps, and I was hoping you would be the one to send me.”
Twilight's measured breathing caught in her throat and her eyes widened
“It wouldn’t be today,” Luna assured quickly, “nor tomorrow. I can give you time to think on it if you wish; My only hope is that you would do me the honor, as my friend.”
A heavy silence hung over the room, broken only by the occasional distant sounds of the city below the palace. Twilight's breathing had become slightly shallower, and her gaze went back to searching, as if trying to piece together a puzzle somewhere beyond the floor.
Finally she nodded, as if in resignation. “I can certainly do that for you, but…”
Luna leaned forward in nervous anticipation. “Yes?”
“You’ll have to teach me; I actually never learned the spell.”
A brief moment passed while Luna’s brain processed the incredible confession, then she chuckled in disbelief. “What? You are the most skilled researcher of magic and science since Starswirl the Bearded, and you never learned or taught yourself a banishment spell in all these years?”
A sheepish half-smile flitted across Twilight’s face as she glanced over to Luna. “I know… it’s silly in retrospect, but… I didn’t want to think I’d ever need it.”
“After Celestia’s passing, I thought it would be logical to assume I would desire the same.”
“No, it’s not that,” Twilight shook her head. “I felt if I learned the spell it would be tantamount to admitting I feared the possible return of Nightmare Moon..." She swallowed, voice becoming strained. "Well, that... and I had hoped I might find a way to make alicorns actually immortal before you went,”
Luna’s heart clenched painfully. Although Twilight had seemingly come to terms with the passing of her beloved teacher and mentor, soon afterwards she became obsessed with breaking the grip of death. Through the years, Luna had watched her friend struggle against failure after failure, repeatedly sliding into deep depressions with each loved one that would inevitably succumb to the ravages of age. It was heartbreaking for them both, and eventually Twilight stopped talking about her research into true immortality. In all honesty, Luna thought she had given up on it a century ago.
“It’s all right that you haven't,” she said, trying to be reassuring although her own voice was becoming thin. “I have lived a long, full life. I’ve seen the greatest highs and the worst lows. I’ve gained and lost, and left my mark on this world for good or ill. I am old, I am tired, and now I am ready to move on.”
“No, you can’t,” Twilight insisted. Her eyes began to shimmer. “I’m so close; just let me keep doing the treatments, and I’ll have all it figured out soon.”
Luna's throat tightened further. For a moment, she was a thousand years into the past, standing in the throne room doorway as she watched a same young alicorn plead through tears to halt the inevitable flow of time.
Just as she did so long ago, the Princess of the Moon took a deep breath and bid her heart to be strong. “I cannot stay any longer,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “My time has come, and no amount of magic or medicine can change that.”
Twilight’s eyes brimmed over and a soft cry escaped her throat, but unlike that day a thousand years ago, the Princess of Friendship did not collapse into a blubbering mess of grief; she was too dignified for that anymore.
Luna had no doubt her friend would eventually unlock more knowledge than any other pony to ever live, perhaps even true immortality. Twilight's pursuits of art, science, and magic were unparalleled by any, aided by the advantage of hundreds of lifetimes and access to virtually limitless material resources. One century, she might rearrange the nationwide educational system; the next, she would reap the harvest of its most brilliant minds to aid in her research. In a thousand years, she had accomplished more than Starswirl the Bearded, Clover the Clever, and Celestia combined. Her youthful idealistic streak was still there, as was the fiery passion; she drove herself to the very brink, never quitting until the final tally was in. She had retained a youthful naivete that made her believe she could accomplish nearly anything, and given enough time she most likely would.
But Twilight also knew when she was beaten, and for this brief blink of a moment, the most brilliant mind in all of Equestria simply sat and cried raggedly as her soul shook under the pain of every friend and family lost to the slow, unstoppable march of time.
It was all Luna could do to keep her own composure intact as she shifted across the bed, and wrapped a single huge wing around her friend’s trembling shoulders.
After a few minutes, Twilight took a deep breath and swallowed the quiet sobs in her throat. “...That's it then,” she said shakily, nestling into Luna’s embracing wing. “There’s nothing more to do.”
“It would seem so,” Luna responded, nuzzling Twilight gently. “Of course-”
There was a soft knock at the door, and both Princesses jumped. Twilight hastily hid her teary face, as Luna withdrew her wing and cleared her throat. “Enter!” she called.
A white stallion with ceremonial gold armor gently pushed open the door a moment later, and bowed briefly. “Your Highness, I have been sent to inform you that there are messengers arriving at court. The provinces are inquiring about the unusual time of sunrise and request an official statement.”
“Very well,” Luna said. “You may inform the messengers and councils that we will commence open court in ten minutes; I will have a statement prepared.”
The guard bowed again, pausing a moment longer than appropriate when he noticed Twilight’s presence. Although it was not unusual for the Princesses to keep close company with each other, often tabloids made it out to be more than simple friendship. Patently absurd gossip in Luna’s opinion, but it did keep the populace wondering.
“That will be all, good sir,” Luna said kindly, yet firmly.
Twilight gave a melancholy chuckle as the guard closed the door and hoofsteps receded down the marble hall. “Perfect timing, as usual. You were about to say something?” she asked, wiping her damp eyes.
“Yes,” Luna said, stepping off her bed and gathering her royal vestments. “I still need to teach you the banishment spell, and you’ll need to gather the Element Bearers together. The process is not difficult, but you should make use of their strength to aid in casting it successfully for the first time.”
Twilight nodded. “Yes; they’re not on assignment at the moment. I can have them all here before the week is out,” she said. “But… Luna?”
“Yes?”
“Can we call it something else, please?”
Luna stopped dressing, and turned to face Twilight. She smiled, spread her wings again, and embraced her friend. “Of course,” she said, nuzzling close. “We can call it whatever you wish.”
“You’re sure there’s nothing I can say to change your mind?”
With a wry smile, Luna shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I can feel it in my body and soul: Today will be the last day I have the strength.”
Twilight nodded. Her expression and posture were still strong, but her eyes betrayed otherwise. “I understand.”
The two princesses embraced, then Luna gently pulled back. “Are they prepared?”
Another somber nod from Twilight confirmed. “I have briefed them as you instructed.”
“Very well.” Luna turned to face the other five assembled ponies. “Council of Friendship, at our time of parting, I wish to tell you all how grateful I am to have served our great nation alongside you. I thank you for your strong hearts, clever minds, and willing spirits, and I know you will continue to bring peace and prosperity to Equestria for many years to come.”
The Council members nodded and smiled gratefully. Luna smiled in return, but her heart was heavy as she realized that she barely knew any of them personally, at least not enough to give individual words of wisdom as her sister had done.
Perhaps it was just as well; she’d put this off for as long as possible already, and even just standing under her own power was beginning to be a chore requiring all her concentration. If she was to make her final journey successfully, it had to be now.
She turned again to Twilight and embraced her friend for the final time. “I am ready,” she said softly.
Luna felt warm tears against her neck. “I’ll miss you, Lulu.”
“I’ll miss you too.” Luna’s voice cracked despite her best efforts, and the tears she’d been holding back finally spilled over. She could feel Twilight’s fluttering heart and shallow breathing, and lamented she would never again hold her close. Much the same as she would never feel the warmth of Celestia’s loving wings, or see her sister’s beautiful sun rise once more.
She squeezed tightly. “Take care of your sister, Twilight.”
Twilight squeezed back. “Say hi to Celestia for me,” she said almost inaudibly.
Luna sighed, but indulged her friend. “I will, the moment I see her.”
They held each other for a few more moments, then pulled away with unspoken accord. “I’ll start the spell,” Twilight said, trying to steady her shuddering voice. She stepped back and nodded at the Council of Friendship, who all closed their eyes in concentration as their jeweled necklaces began to glow with ethereal power.
While shimmering light and swift winds filled the throne room, Luna her gaze fixed on Twilight. The Princess was distracted, muttering unfamiliar invocations to build the magical fields in just the right configuration, but at the last possible moment, she looked up. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as she locked eyes with Luna; eyes filled not with simple grief, but despair and sadness beyond measure.
The spell peaked and Luna felt a familiar pull from above as the world faded to cool darkness.
