The stars had never looked so lost.
For millennia, Celestia had gazed at the stars whenever she needed guidance, and they never failed to give her advice. Even in situations when words wouldn’t help, the stars kept her company. She oft wondered if it was the way Luna had arranged them, or if the stars themselves had a spark of life contained within their forms. A spark made up from the brightest minds of Equestria. Or maybe from the ones that had loved her.
Oh listen to yourself. Celestia smiled up to the heavens. No wonder they call you an old mare.
She had hoped that eventually, the stars would glimmer a piece of advice to her on how to handle this night. She had hoped, for they seemed to know exactly what to say, when she couldn’t.
But tonight, they were silent.
When she banished Luna— no, Nightmare Moon, she had to learn how to start and craft the night. However, the stars were one aspect she never dared lay a hoof on. For one thousand years the stars stood at where Luna had left them. She wondered if anypony had noticed. Had anypony looked up and regarded them as she did? Did they care?
Celestia allowed her eyes to shut, cutting off her view of the twinkling diamonds above.
They would be of no help tonight.
Her ears twitched, hoping to hear a sound. Any sound. But instead, the castle was silent. There wasn’t a peep from anypony nor anything. The birds had fallen grimly still and the crickets, for the second night in Celestia’s life, were quiet. Canterlot itself was also without noise, but not devoid of life. In all those darkened houses were Celestia’s subjects. The ponies that she ruled over for eons. She saw them grow and age, living their own lives that they thought was insignificant in the alicorn’s eyes. And yet, she knew every one.
Celestia sharpened her focus as best she could. Normally, she heard somepony walking down the streets or shifting in their house. She hoped she could catch a glimpse of Timber Thistle chopping wood to sell the next day, or Mortar & Pestle crafting a brand new fireplace to sell to their customers. But tonight, there wasn’t so much as a peep.
Did they know?
No.
Did they care?
Does it matter?
Before she could’ve continued her train of thought, the faint sound of a hoofstep approaching resonated through her chambers. It was soon followed by the crack of a doorknob and squeaks pierced the air.
Celestia did not need to open her eyes to know who had just trotted in.
“The night is done. Everypony is at peace.”
“Thank you, Luna.” The hoofsteps grew louder and soon, the sound of somepony sitting beside her reached her ears. “The stars are lost tonight.”
“It is of no surprise. Who wouldn’t be?”
“There are a fewer number of them. Did you remove some?”
“Nay. I simply saved them. Twilight shall find them when she wakes.”
Celestia slowly opened her eyes, spotting Luna staring out of the castle and up to the heavens. There wasn’t a smile on her face, nor a frown. Her emotions were dormant, and impossible to read. Perhaps because there was nothing to read.
“An era comes to an end tonight,” Celestia mumbled.
Luna kept silent. She only began to speak when Celestia turned to stare at the moon.
“I know.”
“Just like mom.”
“Just like mom,” Luna repeated.
“Do you think we’ll see her?”
“Prehaps.”
Prehaps.
Celestia allowed her shoulders to drop, letting a sigh escape her lips as she did so. From the outside, her form hadn’t aged a day. Her mane was still flowing, full of color and life. Her coat was flawless, glowing a sort of radiance most ponies wished they had in their youth. She looked the same as she did a few millennia ago. But her spirit had grown weary. It had grown weak, barely being able to support her through the day.
Celestia exhaled a heavy breath.
Luna lowered her head and shut her eyes. Celestia followed suit.
Slowly, her mind wandered back to the past. Of the days eons before, where the land was untamed and barely explored. The days of her as a filly, running around Canterlot’s enormous gardens, staring up at the sky and marvelling at its beauty.
The memories felt like they were a lifetime ago, and yet she could still recall the details. The first time she saw Luna. The first time she raised the sun. The first day she was alone. Yet, one glowed brighter than the rest.
And that was those of her students.
She recalled their faces, their voices and their skills. The citizens in Equestria treated her as a royal figure, but her students treated her as something closer. Something more. They treated her as a friend.
From anypony else’s perspective, they probably assumed that it was a one-way relationship. That Celestia taught the students everything they needed to know.
Celestia snickered. That could not be further from the truth.
In fact, her students had taught Celestia something more valuable than centuries worth of readings ever could. They taught her how to live. The advice they gave resonated with Celestia even to this day, long after the sands of time had withered their names from the minds of everypony else.
Sometimes, she even wondered if the students themselves knew just how much their lives had affected hers.
Did they? Did they know?
Celestia pondered the question for a second. But the answer soon came to her clear as day.
Of course they did.
One such pony was Cloud Ivy, a filly who Celestia distinctly remembered loved to sip her chocolate milk through two straws instead of one. Her joyful nature lent themselves to many lighthearted memories. She was one of the funniest pegasi Celestia knew, and her wide, unwavering smile gave her strength in her toughest times.
“You have to lighten up, Tia! Can’t keep spending all the time being so gloomy, you’ll regret it when it’s too late.” Cloud Ivy’s words still rang clearly in her mind. Even in her last days, Ivy’s lighthearted demeanor never faltered, and her words of advice never changed.
Terra Leaf, meanwhile, found her life tending the mud and dirt and basking in the sunlight. She grew the most delicious produce in the land, and in times of crisis, gave them out to the ponies of Equestria. Her faultless determination was something Celestia wished she had, a thought she made known to the earth pony one day.
“All of us’ got that drive, Princess,” Terra said, all the while handing out food to Trottingham Village. “Took spending time with you to find mine.”
Flare Fire meanwhile laughed heartily at the silliness of Celestia whenever he crafted his next firework show. His creativity knew no bounds; neither did his sense of danger. However, underneath the quirky exterior was a pony who put the needs of the masses over the few.
Even if it meant himself.
“I’ll come right back, Princess. Just you wait!”
To this day, a part of her was still hoping...
As memories of every student came flooding back, she soon realized just how much she recalled of them. She recalled their loves. Their hates. Their interests and their traits. But most importantly.
She remembered them.
And she wondered if they remember her, wherever they were.
“How long has it been?”
Luna’s question had caught Celestia off guard. She thought about her answer carefully. To Celestia, time had meant so little to her. Centuries passed by like minutes, while decades disappeared like seconds. She had lived days as if they were blinks of her eye.
But now, every ‘tick’ of the clock felt longer than the life she had lived.
“Too long.”
There was a pause.
“We’ve both made mistakes,” Luna spoke, a tinge of regret in her tone.
“It wouldn’t be a life worth living if we didn’t.”
“Do you think we’ve done enough to make up for them?”
“Who can say?” Celestia allowed her words to hang just a tinge longer than usual. “History will be the judge of that. We have both lived the lives of thousands of ponies, and made the mistakes of millions.”
“...Tomorrow…”
Luna waited, as if expecting Celestia to fill the dead air with her own words. But she remained silent.
“Tomorrow, when Twilight Sparkle awakens… how will she react?”
“I do not know,” Celestia admitted, glancing at Luna with fallen eyes.
“We should tell her.”
“She already knows.”
Luna turned to Celestia with her cheeks pulled into a frown. But she didn’t utter a word of denial.
“You did not tell her, did you?”
“No. I didn’t. But she knows. Just like you and I did for mother.” Celestia exhaled. “We didn’t say goodbye.”
“We tried,” Luna’s said in an instant.
The sisters sat in silence for a few ticks of the clock.
“I have tried to predict what I would feel when tonight finally arrived,” Luna spoke in a soft tone.
So have I, sister.
“I thought I would feel anger, sadness, despair. However, I instead feel…”
“...at peace,” both sisters spoke simultaneously, but neither turned to face the other. Instead, they resumed staring up at the stars.
“We shall soon join them.”
“Do you believe so?” Celestia gazed upwards.
“I know so.” Luna raised her hoof, waving them in front of a few stars. “I have tended to them for so long, it is my belief that we shall join them at the new dawn.”
“And we shall watch over our subjects from above?”
“Yes.”
In a faint voice, Celestia asked, “and Twilight?”
“We shall watch over her as well. We shall give her guidance when she turns to us every night she needs to.”
“I hope she doesn’t seek guidance from us about books.”
A snicker echoed through the chambers.
“Suppose it’s in our power to grant her books. Do you think we should?” Celestia jokingly asked.
“No. Then we’ll never hear the end of it.”
The snickers grew into laughter.
“Perhaps we shall grant her the same book repeatedly to spite her!”
That line caused the two sisters to erupt into loud giggles. They continued for a fair while before stopping, though faint chuckles could still be heard.
“I am going to miss this place.”
“Likewise,” Luna said.
Celestia felt a tear appear at her eye, though she did not wipe it away. Instead, she allowed it to trail down her face and drip to the floor below. Then another. And another. Yet, through the tears, she wore a wide, confident smile.
“Are you alright, sister?”
“I… I’m… I’m so proud of everypony around me. And I’m going to miss them so much.”
Luna opened her wing and brought Celestia close to her form. The emotions had begun to spread to Luna as well, who had started to sob softly.
The two sisters cried in each other’s embrace for a time. Neither said anything, for no words needed to be said. The silence spoke leagues more than they ever could. Even after they had stopped, they simply sat. Enjoying the silence. Enjoying the view. Enjoying each other’s company.
One last time.
And it was then that something happened to the stars. One of them glowed brighter among the rest, and the sight stole Celestia’s breath away.
“It’s… it’s almost time,” Luna whispered in awe.
Another star soon followed suit, shining with a brilliance the likes of which Celestia had never seen.
Then another. And another. In a matter of minutes, the sky was alight with an orchestra of glowing stars. And they were all shining at her and Luna.
I wonder if we’re the only ones seeing this. Or if this is something Equestria can see as well.
As the seconds ticked by, Celestia slowly felt increasingly exhausted. Her shoulders drooped low and her head grew heavier by the second.
“S-sister,” Celestia muttered weakly.
“Yes?” Luna responded in an equally weak voice.
“Thank you for being by my side, always.”
“You are… most welcome.” Luna fell softly to the cold stone floor. “Thank you for protecting me through my life, even through all my flaws.”
The two sisters shared a giggle, though it was one so soft that it was almost inaudible.
With their wings wrapped around each other, they soon collapsed onto the ground. As Celestia’s vision blurred, she heard a voice call out from a few floors below.
“Celestia!? Luna!”
There were the sounds of racing hoofsteps, and Celestia couldn’t help but smile.
It’s okay, Twilight. We’re at peace now.
She closed her eyes.
I’m so proud of you, and I always will be.
“Celestia! Luna! Hang on!” the voice was closer, but it was still echoing from the stairway.
Thank you for being the light in my life.
She felt the energy in her limbs give way, but the smile remained, unwavering.
“Celestia!” the shout came just outside the door.
I’ll miss you.
The last thing Celestia heard was the crack of the doorknob. The squeak of the hinges.
All before her vision went dark, and she exhaled.
For one last time.
