Pithos

“Are the old tomes so decrepit that you can no longer read them?”

Two weeks passed after Twilight’s Ponyville friends went home. Each one had put up a fight – arguing, begging, crying, and screaming in turns. Fluttershy had tried reasoning with Twilight, only to leave, dejected. Applejack and Rainbow Dash had bargained, screamed, shouted, and banged at her doors before giving up. Rarity had slipped a note to the guards and left. Pinkie had to be dragged off by the others, refusing to believe Twilight would abandon them – she wasn’t sure what hurt more, the word, or the fact that Pinkie was right. She had abandoned them.

But the worst had been Spike. He’d stood outside the door to the castle for hours. He’d begged and pleaded to the guards, cried and screamed and thrown himself at the gates, tried to climb the castle itself to Twilight.

Nothing had worked. Spike had eventually left, exhausted and still crying, and Twilight had been left feeling like she’d abandoned her own child. She’d raised Spike, cared for Spike, taught Spike. Loved Spike. And she’d abandoned him, despite knowing that this was his worst fear.

It was for the best, she’d reasoned over and over. It was for the best. But more often than not Twilight couldn’t make herself believe it.

Couldn’t shake the doubt that she was simply shutting out her friends because she didn’t want them to see her like this. Didn’t want them to face the burden of the crown and help her.

It was selfish and selfless by turns. It was both and it was neither. It was a cycle Twilight lived every moment she had nothing to do. So she kept herself occupied, threw herself into the work of the kingdom, and struggled to keep both herself and Equestria afloat.

There were taxes to check on, ponies to listen to, and of course, the matter of the gemstones found in the pyre.

For the hundredth time since she had seen them, Twilight Sparkle turned to look at the gemstones on her desk. She sat in her study, surrounded by books and with the curtains drawn over the windows. Candles and a burning fireplace lit the room in soft yellow light. The deep brown of the bookcases clashed with the purple of her desk, something Twilight had never noticed with the windows open.

She found she didn’t much care.

The desk was stacked with books and with papers, as it always was, but at its centre were three gemstones. A topaz sun, an onyx crescent moon, and a turquoise heart. The three stones have been found in the ashes after the traditional royal pyre. One for each princess – each too similar to their cutie marks for Twilight not to be suspicious. She’d spent every minute of her spare time studying the gems and looking for clues in her library books.

But there were no books about dead princesses, because no princess had ever died before. And, before long, Twilight had grown frustrated and started throwing books out of windows. It wasn’t until several guards had returned them, knees quaking in fear, the Twilight realized what she’d been doing.

After that, she kept her outbursts contained in empty rooms away from the guards.

Twilight sighed, pulling herself back to the present, and stared at the gemstones that sat on her desk.

She said, “I need to figure out what these are.” Then she sighed again, shaking her head. Her mane – frizzy, un-brushed – hung in her face and she blew it back. She blew it back again when it refused to settle. The third time, she conjured a headband and shoved it over her bangs, forcing them back near her ears and letting her see.

“But the gemstones aren’t in the books,” said Twilight, leaning back in her chair. She rubbed a hoof over her face and waved the other one around. “And neither are the pillars that-” Her voice caught, she stumbled, swallowed, tried again. “That she mentioned.” Not perfect, but getting better. She wasn’t crying at the thought of the other princesses anymore at least.

Twilight glanced around the study, looking at the piles upon piles of books she had in the room. One was stacked so precariously she thought it might topple over at any moment.

She pushed back her chair and walked out of the room, wings drooping slightly and hair still a mess.

“I miss Spike,” she whispered. Her steps were mostly silent as she trod down the hallway. She turned into a service hall for maid ponies instead of taking the next corner. While the window with the broken stain glassed had been replaced, Twilight felt the new image lacked the magic of the old.

She ended up in the kitchen a few minutes later, though she wasn’t entirely sure how, and several ponies looked up when she entered. None said anything. Most gave her sympathetic or pitying looks. Twilight wished they’d stop. Tried to tell them. Found she didn’t have the energy for social interaction at the moment. She left the kitchen, drifting aimlessly through the hallways with nothing to anchor her to the world.

It was later – maybe an hour, maybe less, maybe more – when Twilight found herself in the throne room. She stopped in the middle, facing the thrones, and stared up at the banners of the three fallen princesses. The banners had been left up at Twilight’s request. The expressions on the princesses were both serene and confident, powerful but modest, and they held an otherworldly beauty and power that Twilight knew she would never be able to exhibit.

A cough from the left alerted Twilight. She startled, jerking around with her magic already touching the world around her. It died quickly when she realized it was only Flash Sentry. He held a scroll in a pouch on his back.

“A letter for you, Princess Twilight,” said Flash Sentry.

Twilight nodded, lifting the letter to herself. “Thank you,” she said. She unrolled the letter and recognized the handwriting immediately. It was Spike’s and the look of it – unfamiliar and familiar all at once – brought tears to her eyes and a tremble to her lip. The letter smelled of Ponyville and all at once, the world returned to Twilight.

The ground beneath her feet solidified. The air in the room smelled sweet with spring blossoms. The whistle of a breeze against the windows and the gentle murmurs of others in the castle nearby sounded like music in her ears.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle?” asked Flash Sentry. “Are you all right?” And she wasn’t. But she was. And his voice came through clearly. Her hearing – muffled by clouds and grief for weeks – cleared with the breeze. She could hear, she could breathe.

And it was all because her friends had gone against her wishes.

“Fine,” she managed, voice still cracking from the sudden wave of feeling.

Her eyes scanned the letter. Messages about what she’d been missing, about the Cakes and the Apples, about the Cutie Mark Crusaders and their cutie mark crusades, were detailed in Spike’s rolling script. There were mentions of how the others were doing, of how much they missed her, and Spike had taken the time to tell Twilight how he didn’t blame her for leaving them. He understood.

But then, he always had.

“Flash?” asked Twilight, grimacing when her voice caught again.

Immediately, the guard pony was at attention. “Yes, Princess Twilight?”

“I need you to find some parchment for me. I have a letter to write,” said Twilight.

“Yes, Princess Twilight.”

She headed for the door. “And bring it to my study, I have work to do.”

“Yes, Princess Twilight.”

Minutes later, and this time Twilight was sure on the time, the princess was up in her study once more. She flew the books back to their spots on the shelves, stacked those that belonged in the main library, and set to work on clearing her desk. The three gemstones remained on the desk, tucked to one side and arranged by size – the sun was largest, the heart smallest.

Flash Sentry appeared at her doorway a few minutes later, carrying parchment and ink. Immediately, Twilight pulled the materials from him and set to work on writing a letter to her friends.

She apologized for her blocking them out, for being selfish, and asked them if they wanted to come to the Canterlot Castle and help her with her search regarding the seven pillars of light – she mentioned briefly that they were great monuments of powerful magic in the world.

Before long, she had exhausted her parchment supply. Rolling up the parchment, she fastened it with the royal seal and passed it to Flash Sentry, who was still standing in the doorway.

“Could you have this sent to Ponyville for me?” asked Twilight.

Flash snapped a quick salute. “Of course, Princess Twilight Sparkle.” He followed her as the two left the room, heading down the hall toward the main library again. Twilight was ready to start her search about the pillars ago.

“If I may ask, Your Highness,” Flash started.

“Of course,” said Twilight.

“What is it that you are searching for in the library?”

Twilight hesitated, not because there was any reason not to tell him, but because she was unsure how to phrase it. After a few long moments in which the two plodded down the hallway in silence, Twilight managed to find the correct words.

“When…” Another hesitation, she forced herself to say the name. “Princess Celestia died,” her voice cracked, she ignored it and kept going, “she told me that there were seven great pillars of light across the planet and that each one held a portion of powers she and Princess Luna once had.” This time her voice only strained instead of cracking. Twilight quietly applauded herself. “She believed that I would need these powers in order to defeat what had killed the princesses.” Her voice trailed off at the end, but Twilight was proud of herself for managing that much. She hadn’t been able to say their names since the day of their funeral.

Flash nodded along with her story before speaking. “Do you know what killed them? Did they?” he asked.

“No,” said Twilight. She shook her head. “I wish I did, it would make this easier. But… Princess Celestia believed that it was from Tartarus.”

That got a reaction. Flash’s eyebrows shot up to his mane, his eyes growing wide and mouth falling open. “Tartarus?” he squeaked.

Twilight grimaced. “Yes. She said ‘the gates of Tartarus are open’.” Twilight frowned. “But with so many things held in Tartarus, there’s no way of knowing what exactly escaped. And I’m only one pony, and no one pony can search all of Canterlot’s library by herself.”

Flash nodded. The two stopped, now outside the library. “Well, if you ever need any help, I am at your beck and call.” He bowed, then looked up, smiling at Twilight.

“You’re sweet,” said Twilight. “Make sure that letter gets mailed.”

Flash saluted her. “Will do!” He galloped away and down the hall, his tail flying with the breeze. Twilight half expected him to leap into the air and fly out an open window. She was mostly grateful when he didn’t. Flash was sweet, she’d meant that, but she didn’t have time for romance anymore. Not with a prophecy of destruction and the death of her fellow royals hanging over her head.

Maybe in the future, far, far down the line, she could think about romance. But Flash had a crush on her now, and Twilight wanted nothing to do with that.

So, instead of focusing on his hopeful expressions and eager-to-please attitude, Twilight headed into the library and started conjuring forward books. Even with her Ponyville friends on their way, Twilight still had a lot of work to do on her own. She needed a solid footing in what they were doing before any goose chasing was to be done.

Now, if only she knew where to start looking.