“Would you like to play a game, Princess Celestia?”
The white alicorn opened her eyes. Her expression was serene, almost bored. A moment previous, she'd been drifting into a much-needed slumber after two straight days of strenuous work. Equestria had been a highly demanding burden as of late, what with all the unexpected monster attacks.
“Is it necessary?” Celestia inquired of the voice.
It seemed this was the case, for she had, without magical interference of her own, been moved from her private chambers. Princess Celestia opened her eyes to a world of shadows and smoke, the outskirts of which appeared inhabited by creatures of no plausible description. Before her stood a table, although to describe it as such was stretching the definition. All of the furniture in this place was hopelessly distorted in ways that would have made it impossible to function as such, let alone stand of its own design.
“Do you wish to forfeit our arrangement?” the voice asked.
Princess Celestia prodded the wooden tankard in front of her with a hoof. The liquid inside was a pleasing shade of gold. The scent of warm honey emanated from it. It was, if she was not mistaken, a particular type of alcohol known as “The Queen's Tonic”. It was no longer available in Equestria. Celestia would have remarked on how many centuries it had been since this wonderful drink had been commonplace, but she stopped herself. “The Crossroads”, she remembered just in time, were not subject to these rules of past and present and its sole inhabitant was oblivious to them.
“I could do no such thing,” Princess Celestia replied calmly.
Celestia took a long sip of the her Queen's Tonic. The beverage slid down her throat with some reluctance, the warmth pouring into her stomach. This drink was also known as “Death's Sleeping Drought”. She was one of only two ponies in Equestria who could drink such a deadly brew.
A figure appeared at the other side of the table. Or perhaps “appeared” was not the most accurate word for it. The figure seemed to materialize in the brief half-second encompassing a blink, yet there was a feeling of it having always been there. It was tall, far taller than Princess Celestia. But rather than giving it an impression of dominance, its height instead gave them a look of miserable frailty. A long cloak concealed the majority of its form. Two glowing eyes, one dark emerald and the other light gold, were visible from the darkness of the cloak.
“You wish to play, even though you might lose?” the figure demanded.
Princess Celestia nodded, continuing to sip her Queen's Tonic. What it meant to lose was perhaps worse than what it would mean to forfeit, but neither gave any sort of mercy. She had been playing this game for centuries.
The figure nodded. It had known she would not refuse.
“You recall the rules, I trust?” the figure asked. “It has been two hundred years since our last game.”
Princess Celestia, who had crafted the rules herself, nodded.
“Yes, I do,” Celestia answered reassuringly. “I believe it is your turn to choose our game.”
The figure made a sound that could have been laughter, but resembled the sound of hooves crushing leaves on a warm autumn day.
“You will let me choose, even though you lost on a game of your own choosing the last time?” the figure asked incredulously.
For the first time, Princess Celestia's calm demeanor wavered. She had tried to forget about last time, although she still had the occasional nightmare. It had been a foolish lapse of judgment, an unforeseen vulnerability. She could have excused it, but the consequences had been terrible. Celestia trembled.
“The rules are the rules,” Princess Celestia replied, recovering herself. “Choose your game.”
The figure laughed again. But after being thoroughly amused by Celestia's boldness, it set its mind to coming up with a game. The rules for this were straightforward: Whatever the game, it had to be winnable. If victory could not be obtained by any possible means, it would not be accepted. Any sneaky, underhooved tactics were prohibited.
“Draconese Checkers,” the figure uttered finally.
Princess Celestia raised her eyebrows. “Draconese Checkers” was hardly a unique game. She played it with Princess Luna and the guards quite often. But she couldn't complain about the choice, as it seemed a fair test of skill. She nodded at the figure.
“Draconese Checkers it is,” Princess Celestia agreed.
The shadows swarmed over the table, writhing like dark tendrils on the wooden surface. They withdrew after a few moments, leaving behind a crimson game board adorned with carvings of dragons. It was filled with a series of round slots arranged in a triangle-like pattern. This was a very old design. The one Princess Celestia had was of the modern kind, but she liked the original arrangement.
“You may make the first move,” Celestia informed the figure with a smile.
A thin white hoof, more or less a bone, appeared from the depths of the cloak. It plucked a large green gemstone from the board and, after less than a minute of consideration, placed it in one of the available slots.
“Why do you continue to do this, Princess Celestia?” the figure asked, its voice little more than the wind itself.
Princess Celestia examined the game board carefully. She was a more cautious player, not as familiar with the tricks of the game. But then again, she'd been playing for a far shorter period of time than her companion. Despite her concentration, she had no trouble speaking calmly to the figure.
“It is our agreement,” Princess Celestia answered.
The figure laughed again.
“You speak of agreements and contracts and all those pretty words,” the figure observed, amused. “Can you not, for a moment, look inside yourself? Are you not tiring of this?”
Princess Celestia ignored these questions, although any answer she gave would have been a lie of its own right. This was not her will, nor would it have been the will of anypony. This was one of her duties as a leader of Equestria. It could have been worse, she knew. She could have refused. All those years ago, confronted with the creature, she could have chosen to reject its laws and forge her own. But its laws were older than her, older than Equestria itself. If she rejected them, the suffering would be immense.
“Your move,” Princess Celestia announced suddenly.
The figure had been studying her intently. It dropped its gaze to the board and found that Celestia had already made her move. The bony hoof withdrew from the cloak yet again. Another emerald was taken and swiftly moved with barely a thought.
“I quite admire you, Princess Celestia,” the figure told her.
Celestia frowned at the board. They were only two moves into the game and she was already concerned about falling into a trap.
“I have powers you do not, yet you trust me,” the figure continued. “To many I would appear malevolent, yet you regard me with respect and even kindness. You do not fear me, even though your life is but a candle in my eyes. Your bravery and perspective are inspiring, Princess.”
Princess Celestia reached towards a sapphire in the middle of the board, then hastily stopped herself.
“Why should I fear you?” Princess Celestia replied. “To fear you would be to fear the inevitable.”
The figure leaned forward, brushing its bony hoof against Princess Celestia's own. It stared into her eyes, the glow of its own eyes intensifying. Its touch gave Princess Celestia the sensation of having ice cold water poured down her throat. The shadows crept closer. There was the subtle creak of wood, even though the floor could only be said to be made of the darkness itself.
“You do not fear the inevitable?” the figure asked.
Princess Celestia withdrew her hoof, her expression serene.
“I only fear what can harm my subjects,” Princess Celestia answered. “I am confident that if need be, the other princesses can step in and lead Equestria to glory.”
With this, Princess Celestia at last made her move. It wasn't a clumsy move, but it was not a skilled one either. At the very least, it prevented her from falling into a trap that was being set.
“You do not view this as harming your subjects?” the figure asked.
Its hoof was hovering over the board teasingly. It was aware of how closely Princess Celestia was following its movements. It wanted to see the type of reaction she would give to its next move. If Celestia gave any sort of reaction at all, she would betray herself entirely.
“I have no choice,” Princess Celestia pointed out. “The Crossroads is not a place where bargains can be made. You are quite a merciful creature in that regard. You do not take needlessly.”
The figure moved one of the emerald gems. Or perhaps it moved on its own, for the creature's hoof barely twitched. In the one brief second Princess Celestia glanced into the figure's glowing eyes, an emerald changed its position. The figure dropped its own eyes to the board, satisfied with itself. This would not be an easy trap for Princess Celestia to avoid.
“What use have I for greed?” the figure rationalized. “I am bound to this place.”
Princess Celestia took another long swig from her tankard. The warmth of the drink washed away a bit of her nervousness. She returned her eyes to the board with a miniscule spark of hope.
“And what of your own struggles?” the figure asked suddenly. “Do you find yourself succumbing to greed?”
Princess Celestia sighed.
“Only once,” she uttered quietly. “I am sure you remember it...”
Celestia had stopped focusing on the board for the moment. She had cast her mind back, into the depths of her memory. She saw herself as a young alicorn, casting all of her hopes onto a creature she did not fully understand. Greed had not been the backbone of the decision, but there certainly had been an amount of it. However small said amount was, she still regretted that any sense of personal gain had even come into it.
“Would you had rather I refused?” the figure asked quietly.
Princess Celestia shook her head firmly, coming back to her senses. The doubt that had been crowding into her face left it immediately.
“No,” Celestia responded firmly. “My greed for magical knowledge was nothing compared to the lives of my subjects. The decision I made was perhaps improper, but he would have wanted it. I know he would have wanted it!”
Celestia's voice trembled with feeling. She had given up on questioning her decision years ago. It had been done and there was no possible way to reverse it. However, she somewhat wished she had consulted Luna. Tipping the scales of life and death was not something to be done without proper discussion with a less biased source. Overall, Celestia was glad she had kept the secret from Luna, despite the traces of guilt.
“Your move, Princess,” the figure reminded her.
Princess Celestia's eyes dropped to the board immediately. But something inside of her, some instinct borne of her many years, told her she was not going to win. She was playing a game older than herself against a creature far older than herself. She was wise, but this creature was wiser. She was worried, but this creature would not allow itself to be. However, Princess Celestia took hold of an emerald gem and moved it, her expression unchanging.
“How is Twilight Sparkle?” the figure asked.
Princess Celestia looked directly into the figure's glowing eyes, a smile on her face.
“She is powerful,” Princess Celestia replied. “At two years old, she is showing the magical ability of a unicorn well into adolescence. With proper training, she will become as powerful as….him.”
The figure nodded absently as it made its move on the board.
“I hear whispers,” the figure told Celestia. “Whispers of the future. I sense a darkness at the core of Equestria. Do you believe this….Twilight Sparkle….will be able to repel it on her own?”
Princess Celestia sighed, her eyes on the game board. She moved a sapphire, expertly navigating her way out of a trap the figure had laid.
“I hope she is not alone,” Princess Celestia responded quietly. “She is everything he was….yet I fear this will hinder her even more than it did him. I wish for her to not be alone in her endeavors….but how can I prevent it?”
The figure nodded understandingly. It had never met him, but it had seen things in his lingering soul. It had seen power and intelligence to rival the greatest, knowledge of things most ponies would dismiss, and a unique mind that had served him quite well in his final years. But it had also seen loneliness. A loneliness he himself had not realized, but had at the same time caused him great torment throughout his life.
“You will have more control,” the figure pointed out. “Surely you can guide her life in the right direction.”
Princess Celestia nodded, but frowned.
The game continued in silence. Occasionally Princess Celestia would lift the tankard to her lips and take a long gulp from it. It never seemed to empty, even as the intervals between drinks shortened. All the while the figure stared at her, unblinking. Its eyes examined her very soul, reading every intimate thought and painful memory. Princess Celestia, used to the creature's gaze, barely flinched. Her own eyes remained on the board for the entire duration, her expression peaceful.
At last, the figure moved a ruby to the top of the board.
“I believe I have won,” the figure announced triumphantly.
The excitement in its voice was perceptible despite its harsh and gravelly tone.
Princess Celestia bowed her head. The consequences of her defeat aside, she accepted that the creature had played an excellent, fair game. She was impressed, although not at all surprised.
“I am defeated,” Princess Celestia accepted. “You shall have your reward for besting me, as per our agreement.”
Tendrils of gray smoke crept along Princess Celestia's sides, almost caressing her. A frightening, yet familiar cold rose in her body. She imagined she could hear a scream in the distance. The agonized cry of a soul being torn from its rightful owner. But she knew it was only in her mind, however accurate the image was. Celestia shuddered.
“I desire a different reward,” the figure informed Celestia.
The tendrils withdrew, taking the cold feeling with them. Princess Celestia stared at the figure in confusion. She could feel a smile, a smile not unlike that of a happy young filly, emanating from the darkness within the cloak. It disturbed her, but also intrigued her.
“And what is that?” Princess Celestia asked.
The figure threw back the hood of its cloak. A face came together around the two glowing eyes, materializing one section at a time. Many stories had been told about this creature. Its appearance always varied, but the basic details were maintained in every tale. Yet the stories about its appearance were all false, merely assumptions wrapped in fanciful legends. What gazed at Celestia was not an empty skull, nor was it a mass of writhing shadows. Its face was that of a normal pony, albeit lined with age and decidedly androgynous. Its long mane was the color of dust. Upon its forehead, where a unicorn's horn might have been, was a single, wilting daisy.
Princess Celestia was literally staring into the face of Death.
“I would like a foal,” Death answered.
Princess Celestia allowed her composure to fall away. The dread came over her in a single wave, washing away her serene expression and sending a chill skittering down her spine. She thought she could feel the shadows, as thick and suffocating as smoke, pressing in around her. The scent of decay, bitter and strong, threatened to choke her. The Crossroads had dropped its veil.
“No,” Princess Celestia replied simply.
In Celestia's voice was the malice of a cornered alicorn prepared to fight, even though violence had no meaning in this realm. Yet helplessness would not overcome her. Celestia knew she had no actual means of refusal to whatever demands Death made in its own realm. The Crossroads required submission.
“No?” Death echoed, cocking its head. “You feel you have a right to disregard our agreement?”
Princess Celestia nodded firmly.
“I cannot allow it,” Princess Celestia answered. “You may have the soul of any mare or stallion you wish, but the souls of foals are a different matter. I am not certain what malevolence has come over you, but rest assured I will fight against your request. You may, if you choose, take away all of the years of my own life you have given me over the centuries in retaliation.”
Death shook its head. Its expression was one of tiredness and misery.
“You misunderstand,” Death replied.
Death turned to stare at the surrounding shadows. The darkness of the Crossroads was unlike the darkness of a night sky. This darkness was more oppressive, more felt. Even Death, who was naturally used to this darkness, was effected by it. It could feel the possibilities were swallowed by the gaping maw of the blackness.
“I wish to be a mother,” Death explained. “I want you to give me a foal to raise as my own.”
The explanation should have been a relief to Celestia, but it instead filled her with a new type of dread. She stared into Death's face. Every line of that ancient face spoke of sadness, loneliness, and crushed hopes. The expressiveness of the face disconcerted Celestia more than the request itself. She saw her own hardships in this face, her mind reliving them in vivid detail as her eyes met those of Death.
“I cannot,” Princess Celestia replied coldly. “Surely you realize the type of creature you are, the type of world you live in? I cannot grant you motherhood. It is beyond my power.”
The wail of despair did not come from Death's lips. It came from the Crossroads itself. The Crossroads cried out in misery as its master's emotions rippled through it. The ground underneath Celestia's hooves vibrated slightly with the force of the cry. A feeling of intense sympathy, so intense it almost destroyed them, swelled within the lingering souls. Princess Celestia's heart almost ceased to beat as the regret poured over it in unrelenting flutters.
“I am older than you, Princess,” Death answered in a surprisingly calm voice. “I have felt the nothingness before the world emerged. I have cradled the very first souls as I delivered them into their eternal sleep. I have seen the beginning, the end, and the strife of Equestria a thousand times over. And yet, always…..”
The wails of agony ceased. A silence, a chilling silence comparable to that of a moonless night on a deserted planet, fell over the Crossroads. It was as if every lingering soul, every soul not yet claimed, went quiet. Even Princess Celestia's breathing seemed to cease, although she could feel the rise and fall of her chest.
“….always I am alone,” Death finished, its voice filled with heartache. “I have no love, I have no equal, I have nothing. You do not understand this feeling, do you, Princess? You are never alone. You need not bear a foal to feel motherhood in your heart. Yet I am a mother to no one. Is this fair, Princess?”
Princess Celestia struggled with her own emotions. She could feel every rush of sadness, anger, and hope within Death. The Crossroads had opened her heart, allowing countless emotions to flow inside. It was an experience that could only be described as torturous. Celestia attempted to break free of the Crossroads and its influence before she spoke, but it was difficult.
“No, it is not fair,” Princess Celestia agreed, her voice trembling. “However, fairness is irrelevant. I cannot give you a foal to raise as your own. It simply cannot be done. I….am sorry.”
Princess Celestia thought for a moment, as Death's animosity swelled, that Death would strike her down in a sudden act of pure rage. But for all the creature's suffering, it could not act on such an emotion. Celestia felt a very brief desire to do just that ripple through the Crossroads, yet nothing happened. She watched, her empathy rising again, as Death instead turned back to her and bowed its head.
“You recall what I did for you, do you not?” Death asked.
The memory was not only in Princess Celestia's mind. It was all around her, in the smoke and in the shadows. She could hear her own voice speaking at some distant time in the past. And she could hear the voice of Death responding to her desperate request.
“He cannot die!” Celestia was shouting.
“It is too late,” Death responded.
“Surely there must be something you can do!” Princess Celestia insisted. “Please! You do not understand...how much Equestria will suffer without him…..”
“You feel this strongly about the matter?” Death asked. “You truly believe Equestria will fall without this stallion?”
“Yes!” Princess Celestia replied passionately. “You cannot be unaware of the influence he had!”
“If this is true, perhaps I can do something…,” Death mused.
“You can bring him back?” Princess Celestia demanded.
“No,” Death replied. “It is impossible. However, his soul….his knowledge….his power….”
“Yes?” Princess Celestia urged.
“I shall do it,” Death uttered firmly. “Star-Swirl the Bearded shall live on.”
“But how?” Princess Celestia inquired anxiously. “Will he come back as he was?”
“I am afraid there is no way to bring him back,” Death answered. “However, in several centuries' time, a foal will be born. This foal will be as powerful as Star-Swirl the Bearded and capable of doing the immense good he did. And when this pony dies, another shall be born. The cycle shall be endless. It is all I can do.”
“And shall I meet this foal?” Princess Celestia asked breathlessly.
“You may,” Death assured her. “You will not mistake them for another, I promise you. Star-Swirl shall remain dead, but his essence shall be reborn again and again for eternity. Is this what you desire, Princess?”
“Yes,” Princess Celestia replied firmly. “This is what Equestria needs to survive.”
The memory came to an end. Princess Celestia was left feeling drained. The Crossroads had absorbed the memory from her own mind, bringing it to life in the shadows. Celestia resented the torment of having to relive it. But when she looked into Death's eyes again, she realized the purpose.
“It simply cannot be done,” Princess Celestia repeated. “My gratitude is endless, but there are only so many ways I can repay you.”
Death raised its eyes to her. Its gaze was calculating. It was plucking thoughts from her head, reading every secret she had tucked away. It was searching for something, anything, it could cast its hopes upon. It knew it was there. Somewhere, in the depths of Celestia's mind, there was a possibility. And then, as its persistence reached its peak, Death found it.
“Yes!” Death cried triumphantly. “There is something, isn't there, Princess? There is something!”
Princess Celestia was bewildered. She searched her own thoughts frantically. Death's hope pulsed aggressively through her mind, which she now realized had been peeled back to reveal the inner workings of her brain in their entirety.
“It is…,” Princess Celestia began.
Celestia's eyes widened as the thought came fully before her. The answer was simple, yet frightening in its implications. It had flitted across her mind for half a second, but it had been preposterous enough to be dismissed.
“I do not think it would be wise,” Princess Celestia uttered slowly.
Death leaned forward. Its mouth did not move, but words were spoken. They poured into Princess Celestia's ears like smoke, an urgent whisper from the gloom. The Crossroads began its own soundtrack of light drumbeats in the distance. It sounded as if a heart was beating.
“But you could do it,” Death whispered.
Princess Celestia took a deep breath. The heartbeat in the distance increased.
“I could do it,” Celestia agreed. “But would you agree to leave this realm….unattended?”
Death looked around. It had grown attached to this darkness, this isolation. The shadows had become its comrades, the lost souls its only vessel with which to channel pain. The Crossroads was far older than Death. Yet it had welcomed Death warmly, as if they were old friends, and friends they had become in a peculiar way. Death could not leave this place. Without a keeper, it would wither, and the natural order would fall. However, there was a way.
“I need not leave my realm unattended,” Death answered. “The balance would suffer. If you wish to grant me this reward, there must be another. I must elect a new keeper.”
Princess Celestia nodded in agreement.
“Who will you elect?” Princess Celestia asked.
Death turned once again to gaze at the landscape. The souls were no longer weeping or screaming. They were singing. It was not a song any pony would recognize. It was an ancient song of rebirth that could only exist in this realm. The lullaby of the Crossroads, as Death had come to call it. Death smiled.
“The soul that has lingered longer than the rest,” Death answered at last. “Perhaps you remember her, Princess. She once came here and asked me about the future. I allowed her to see everything that was to be before she passed. She is powerful, despite being merely a lingering soul.”
Death reached into the abyss below its hooves. From the darkness rose a single flower. The flower was a moderate amaranth in color. The flower appeared to quiver as it floated between Death and Princess Celestia. A sigh drifted through the air. Although simple, the sound filled Princess Celestia with indescribable bliss.
“She will do nicely,” Death concluded.
The flower vanished in a puff of gray smoke. Princess Celestia was struck by a sense of loss as it disappeared. She reached out a hoof toward where it had been, mouthing a single word without realizing it. She hastily withdrew her hoof as the smoke evaporated.
“Then you are prepared?” Princess Celestia inquired. “You understand what you are doing?”
Death took one final look at its realm. It would miss the Crossroads to an extent, but those memories would soon be gone. It would be free. There would be no loneliness.
“I am prepared,” Death confirmed.
Death silently bid farewell to the Crossroads for the last time.
A gray Earth pony mare poked her head out of the window.
“Dinner!” the mare called.
A brown Earth pony stallion wiped a hoof across his brow. The day's work had tired him, but he was satisfied. He'd done well for a pony working alone. However, he longed for the day they'd be able to afford to hire some help.
“I shall be there in a moment, dearest!” the stallion called back.
In a corner of the farm, unseen by either of the ponies, a tall white alicorn watched the proceedings. She watched as Igneous Rock galloped to the house whistling a melancholy tune. He was met by his wife Cloudy Quartz, the mare who had called for him. They two shared a brief kiss as they met at the door. Even from a distance, Princess Celestia could tell that Cloudy Quartz's belly bulged with pregnancy.
The first child of many, Princess Celestia thought.
In that brief moment before she had left the Crossroads, her fully opened mind had been given several glimpses into the future. Celestia was no longer worried about the fate of Twilight Sparkle. She saw much strife, but many triumphs and very little suffering. She had made the right choice all those years ago when she made her request to Death. Twilight Sparkle was going to be the mare that saved Equestria from eternal darkness.
Igneous Rock entered the house first. Cloudy Quartz turned to follow him, but stopped. She hesitated, puzzled at the image that had appeared in her mind. It was an image of a peculiar landscape, a landscape of smoke and shadows. Strangely, it did not unsettle her. It instead filled her with comfort. Cloudy Quartz shook her head, laughing a little at the odd image. She could not recall having ever visited such a place. As far as she knew, she was a simple mare born to two rock farmers who had died in an accident. Smiling to herself, Cloudy Quartz followed her husband into the house and closed the door behind her.
Princess Celestia reached into her saddlebags and withdrew a flower. She pressed it against her heart, mouthing a single word to herself. She imagined she could hear the voice of the new keeper of the Crossroads whispering to her. After a moment, Celestia spread her wings and departed. She had much work to do. For Death had made her realize that she was not just a leader. She was also a mother.
Author's Note
Written for Celestia Day.
