The Forgotten: Magisterby JatheusChaptersChapter VChapter VIChapter VIIChapter VIIIChapter VOnce upon a time in the magical land of Equestria, there was a young mare who lost her memory, even her ability to speak. Accompanied by her magical butterfly companions, she was taken in by a wise old unicorn who taught her what she needed to find her place in the world. This is the story of Mestra Amymone… Summer birds sang heartily as a warm breeze caressed the trees. The forgotten mare flicked her ears as they were tickled by the wind. Water dripped from her mane and coat, cooling her. The golden butterflies danced nearby as Magister’s coughing drowned the avian songs. The fit soon passed, and he continued padding slowly behind her. “Vowels,” he said. The mare felt her brow furrow as she skipped along, “A, E, I, O, and U!” “And-“ “And sometimes Y!” she spun to face him. The old unicorn chuckled at her enthusiasm. He nearly had caught up to her when he spoke again. “You have certainly taken to everything I’ve tried to teach you.” She grinned in reply. “I expect you’ll be an accomplished swimmer soon. Though, your verbs still need work.” Mestra felt her shoulders slump as she fell in stride with Magister. “State of being verbs, all tenses.” The mare let her brain work to recall the words before making her reply, “Am... is... was... were... being... been.” “And?” he asked expectantly. “Nuah! Is not and! And is… is a con… a con…” “And is a conjunction, but you missed two.” Mestra stopped in her tracks, working her mind to find the missing verbs. She looked around, as if the trees or undergrowth would give her an answer. Something caught her attention at the base of a nearby tree. She turned and trotted over to it, tilting her head quizzically at the discovery. A brightly colored bird lay crumpled on the ground. It was not unlike the hue of the sky, though a bit deeper. The tips of an outstretched wing had patterned black and white. Her nose wrinkled at the sickly sweet stench that permeated the area. She took a step back from the silent fowl. “Ah?” “Use your words, Mestra.” She shook her head, “This bird… Why is… he sleepy?” Magister frowned, “It’s a bluejay, and it isn’t sleeping.” “Not sleep…ing?” “No, Mestra. He’s dead.” “Dead,” the mare repeated the unknown word. “Magister… can wake up him?” The old unicorn frowned a second time, “No, Mestra. He’s gone.” She looked down at the bird, confused by the statement and asked, “Where he did go?” Magister coughed before answering, “The life, the energy that powers the body… some call it the soul… it isn’t there anymore. Where it goes is the subject of much debate, but once it leaves the body, it doesn’t return.” The mare remembered one of her new words and asked, “Not never?” “No, Mestra,” the stallion sat down. “Life is a frail thing, like a candle. However, unlike a candle, it cannot be relit once it is extinguished. Dead is forever.” The mare looked at the lifeless form again, still so brightly colored. It should have been cheerful, but it made her sad to think that it would never sing again. The little butterflies danced in front of Mestra’s eyes for a moment before Magister waved them away. The mare looked to her mentor, feeling some unknown need to do something for the bird. He read the pleading in her eyes and nodded slowly. “There is only one thing we can do,” he spoke deliberately. “The cabin is just around the bend, if you would be good enough to run ahead and grab a shovel, I’ll wait here, and we can give him a proper burial.” “Ah!” the mare exclaimed as she darted off. She galloped past trees and arrived at the cabin within moments, her butterflies struggling to keep up. The gardening shed was outside, and Mestra approached it warily. While she wasn’t exactly terrified of spiders, they did give her somewhat of a tiny fright when they crawled upon her. Cautiously checking as she opened the old wooden door, she was pleased to discover neither web nor arachnid to impede her progress. She retrieved the shovel and returned to Magister at a much slower pace, encumbered by her burden. She found her mentor still sitting where she’d left him, and he showed her where to dig. It was not her favorite activity, but there was something comforting about the simplicity of working the earth. The rich scent of freshly disturbed soil soon filled the air, and it wasn’t long before the old unicorn told her to stop. “Now, the shovel, please.” Mestra passed the tool to Magister, and he used it to gently lift the body of the bird, delicately placing it in the ground. He then leaned the shovel against the tree and stood over the hole for a moment. Looking to her, he said, “It is customary to say words, reverently.” “Rever… rev… ently?” “Reverently. It means, respectfully or thoughtfully.” She nodded in understanding as her butterflies landed on her back. “Little bluejay,” Magister began, “You were beautiful in body and in song. The world is a sadder place to no longer have your melody sounding in it.” He looked up to Mestra, who felt rather self-conscious and shook her head, opting to say nothing. Magister nodded and then took the shovel, using it to fill in the hole. As they walked back to the cabin, the passing of the bird weighed heavily on the mare’s mind. “Magister, why did bird dead?” “Die. Why did the bird die?” “Ah,” she suddenly remembered to use her proper words, “yes.” He stopped just short of the door to the gardening shed. Magister looked down for a moment in thought. The butterflies lifted off and flew over to him. He waved them away and returned his attention to his ward. “Mestra… it is the nature of all living things to someday die.” It took a few moments for the impact of what he’d said to become fully realized by the mare. Something akin to panic flooded her mind and her ears folded back. “Everything?” Magister nodded solemnly, “I wish I could tell you differently, but… I cannot protect you from hard truths, and I’d be a fool to try. Given enough time, we all grow old and die.” She didn’t like it, not one bit. The mare looked away, but found no comfort in the trees or the singing of the birds overhead. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to be like the little bird, forever silenced and left to decay. The warm embrace of the old unicorn took the edge from her panic. “Easy, Mestra. It’s okay. You have many years yet before you have to worry about that.” She relaxed into his fatherly embrace, burying her face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry to have so frightened you. I suppose I thought that, since you had the presence of mind to ask the question, you needed a proper answer.” The pair separated, the mare looking into the wise elder’s green eyes. “There are many hard truths in this world, Mestra Amymone. Some are far more easily borne than others. Since we met, I’ve been trying to train you up with everything you’ll need to face the world. Sometimes, what we need and what we want are quite different…” The old unicorn took a breath, seeming lost in thought for a moment before he smiled and added, “Try to not dwell on these things. You can’t change them, after all.” She returned the expression, and did feel somewhat comforted, though not exactly happy. He returned the shovel to its place, coughing a bit as he closed the door to the musty shed. “Come on, I need some water, and I think you need a candy.” Mestra’s spirit was somewhat lifted at the promise of the sweetness as the pair went into the cabin. Chapter VIMestra and Magister sat by the fireless hearth. The elder unicorn had not lit flame within since the cold days of winter had passed. There was somewhat of a chill to the air. Magister had explained that it was the coming autumn, which heralded the approaching of winter once again. What held her attention presently was a quiz on counting. Her eyes examined hay straws on the floor as she added silently. "Five, and five more; that's ten!" the mare said proudly as her butterflies sat on her back. "Very good, Mestra," the gray-maned unicorn smiled at her. "And how about these?" "That is three, and four, and two; that makes nine!" The old unicorn chuckled at her exuberance, causing him to cough, "You certainly do learn quickly, young one. If only you were a unicorn, I could teach you some magic as well." She tilted her head at him quizzically. He returned her gaze but didn't say anything. She was certain that he knew a question was coming. Magister was adept at reading her expressions, but he never would anticipate what she might be wondering. He patiently waited for her to formulate it in her mind. "One and one makes two," Mestra said slowly. "You have two chairs." "Yes, we have two chairs.” "Two chairs by the fire; two chairs by the table," Mestra could feel her brow furrow in thought. Then she asked, "Why do you have two chairs?" "One for me, and one for you. That makes two," he replied. She tilted her head again, "But what about before me?" His smile slowly evaporated, "What do you mean?" "I remember," she said curiously. "When I came, there were two chairs. Did you know I was coming?" "No, Mestra, I did not," the unicorn replied dryly. He began cleaning up the straw. "Nopony else comes here but me," the mare said, still trying to work it out. "You and me makes two. Why two chairs?" "Don't worry about it, Mestra; it isn't important." This answer simply would not do. She felt a powerful curiosity at the mysterious presence of the extra chair. Given her lack of memories before they’d met the previous winter, she simply didn't have any refined ability to understand subtext, which made the old unicorn's moods somewhat unpredictable to the mare. “Magister, you were the only one here. Why two chairs?" she asked again. Suddenly remembering the sweaters and scarf that he had given her, she inquired, "Why do you have clothes for mares?" "Mestra!" he replied hotly as he stomped toward her, "I told you it is unimportant!" He hesitated a moment, his expression filled with concern and something else. Then he turned and left the cottage, slamming the door behind him. The mare felt crushed by the reply. Surely he hadn't intended to hurt her feelings, but that is exactly what he had done. Mestra Amymone burst into tears and put her head down, crying as a filly would. The butterflies suddenly lifted off of her and began swirling around the forgotten mare’s head. They then flew toward the door. Through the sadness she now felt, she was somehow compelled to follow them. Drying her eyes, she stood up and walked toward the glowing little companions. They went outside into the night. The forest around the cabin was familiar to her, though it always made her somewhat uneasy in the dark. Even by the moonlight, she could tell that the leaves were changing from their normal colors, looking almost as if they had ignited into hues of oranges, reds, and yellows as though they were aflame. There was also a coolness to the air. The butterflies led her away through a fog. In a short time, as if by some secret path she had never been able to find previously, Mestra found herself in a different part of the forest. She might have been afraid, but she knew this place. It was familiar somehow, as if she’d seen it from a dream. The trees sat by the water, with large gnarled roots that covered the ground and drank their fill. Many more butterflies than her companions were there, attached to the trees. As she drew closer, they too began to come toward her. They were beautiful, almost enough to lift her spirits. Something inside told her to take caution, so she stopped short of the bank. The butterflies still seemed to beckon her to come closer. Curiosity would soon get the better of her. A blinding flash of light and a thunderclap startled Mestra Amymone, and she spun to find the wise old unicorn standing behind her as if he had appeared out of thin air. A pained expression was on his face as he fell down to his knees. "Mestra!" he said almost frantically, "don't go near the trees." She tilted her head questioningly, "Why not?” "They will make you forget," he said. "Why should they do that?" she asked. "It is their purpose," the unicorn replied just as a fit of coughing overcame him. It was a strange thing that a tree should be able to make one forget, but Magister had never lied to Mestra. He knew everything. Her mentor recovered, finally standing again and continued, “They feed off of sadness and sorrow. I expect that is how you came to forget yourself. You've been here before, haven't you?" She turned and looked at the trees again. It was definitely a familiar place. She nodded her answer. "I suspected as much when I first saw you. I was afraid they might bring you back here eventually." "Where are we, Magister?” she asked. "How I did not find this place before?" "It's a kind of magic," he puffed, seemingly out of breath. "They can lead a pony here from anywhere, but what I don't know is what will happen to you if you get too close. They might just take your sadness, or they might take everything again. You could forget all the things I've taught you." That was a somewhat unnerving thought, and Mestra took a step toward the unicorn, but then stopped short as she remembered his previous harsh words. He studied the look in her eyes. "I am sorry I yelled at you. I didn't mean to hurt you, but there are some things that I'm not ready to say. There are some things that you're not ready to hear." He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, "If you come back with me now and don't return to this place again, I promise that I will tell you everything when we're both ready." If she didn't know better, she might have thought he was afraid. She closed the distance between herself and her wise old friend. He smiled uneasily at her and then closed his eyes. They stood in silence a moment, Magister drawing a deep breath. A dim white light glowed from his horn as he concentrated. It grew brighter until a blinding flash of light enveloped both of them. A popping rang the mare’s ears, and the next thing Mestra Amymone knew, they were back in the cabin. The old unicorn was taken by a fit of coughing and collapsed to the floor. Panicked, the mare tried to pick him up, but he pushed her back. Between coughs, he managed to say, “I’ll be fine… Mestra… Just give me a moment…” Her fears waned as Magister recovered from the fit and slowly stood, ambling to the kitchen to get a glass of water. It was then that Mestra noticed the absence of her companions, spinning about to look for them. "Where are my butterflies?” "I don't know," the unicorn replied with a sigh of relief, "but I expect they shall return by morning." The mare was highly unsettled, still looking around for her butterflies when the old stallion approached her. She met his gaze. “It’s going to be okay, take a breath.” Mestra inhaled deeply and held it for a moment before letting it out. It did have a calming effect. Bedtime was an unpleasant experience that night, mainly for the uncertainty for the butterflies. Mestra loved to watch them as she got sleepy, and it made her sad to not have them. She didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until she awakened the next morning. The butterflies were flitting about the room, one of them having landed on her snout and tickling her. Mestra was overjoyed to have them back, though she didn’t forget that night or the warning that Magister had given her. She knew that some day, the butterflies might try to take her again to the trees that make one forget. She resolved that she wouldn’t follow them to that place, not ever. Chapter VIIMestra Amymone walked through the forest, dead fallen leaves crunching beneath her booted hooves. Her butterflies danced through the air nearby, the four of them together in a little group. The air was crisp and cool, her scarf and crochet hat being sufficient to keep her warm. Most of the leaves had given up their fiery colors and abandoned their trees. A few still remained aloft, though they too would not stay up for much longer. Arriving back at the cabin, Mestra entered, leaving the door open just long enough for her little companions to follow. She could hear Magister coughing again, so she went to the kitchen to get a glass of water for him. While there, she also offloaded the fruits of her excursion: a few bags of assorted berries, and the largest pumpkin she had seen yet. Magister nodded his thanks when Mestra gave him the glass of water. He looked thin and frail to the mare, even more so now that he had given her most of the chores to do herself. The water seemed to work a bit of rejuvenation on the old unicorn, and he recovered from the bout of coughing. “Thank you.” “Ah! I found a pumpkin.” “Good. I’ll show you how to prepare it,” he said between heaving breaths. “Mestra, I would like to go for a walk today.” “I get your scarf.” “Will get. You will get my scarf.” “Will get. Ah!” She was glad that he wanted to go out. She enjoyed the forest greatly, but it was somewhat lonely without Magister. He hadn’t joined her on an excursion for several weeks. The pair made their way outside, closely followed by Mestra’s butterflies. The prospect of winter returning pleased the mare. She remembered seeing her breath on the air, and she had loved the snow. A gust of wind compelled Mestra to tighten her blue scarf and pull her white crochet hat lower. Magister seemed to shrink against it, and the mare helped him in the golden light that heralded the coming sunset. Her butterfly companions swirled about, mostly staying just behind her as they walked. The pair ambled through the forest toward a place that Mestra had not before been. Her mentor had never shown her the overgrown path that led to a big hill. Muscles strained as they climbed upward and left the trees behind. It made the forgotten mare feel particularly warm, but sitting still on top would cool her down again. The view that lay before them to the west was magnificent. The darkening sky was melting into various hues of golden yellows, reds, and purples in some wispy clouds on the horizon. A lone pear tree stood atop the hill. The two came close and sat in front of it. They watched together as the sky transformed itself into the most dazzling display of colors that Mestra Amymone had ever seen. “It’s like a fire!” she exclaimed. “Yes, Mestra,” the magister smiled, drawing deep breaths from the exertion of climbing up the incline. “It is a fire.” “What keeps it up there?” she asked, tilting her head. He chuckled at the question, letting out a cough “I can only guess a magic beyond any that I understand.” That was a surprising statement from her mentor. Although he rarely used it, she was well aware that he knew magic. He had once pulled her from the frozen pond into which she’d fallen with little effort. Another time, he had appeared out of thin air and taken Mestra Amymone back to the cabin in the blink of an eye. They continued watching in silence as the shining disc of the sun finally slipped below the tree line, its golden rays escaping from across the land. Its warmth left, the air cooling Mestra’s face. “I haven’t come here in far too long,” the wise old unicorn broke the silence of the evening. “Why is that, Magister?” the mare asked. Without saying another word, the unicorn turned his head and nodded behind them to the tree. Mestra turned and could see two stone pillars sticking out of the ground near the roots. She hadn’t noticed them when they had arrived. The mare took the few steps back and looked at the short, wide stone markers. There were words carved into them. Mestra Amymone was good with her letters, but there were words she didn’t recognize. She concluded that they must be names. Eridani was on the left stone, and Equulei was on the right as she faced them. Further reading led her to understand what they were: gravestones. The mare turned back to face her mentor. “Who they were?” she asked. Silence followed for nearly a minute. She stood her ground, staring to him. “Magister?” The old unicorn let out a sigh, “That is not my name, Mestra. I am Magister Pyxidis. Magister was the title bestowed upon me. I was once chief unicorn, long ago in a place called the Crystal Empire. Many unicorns are gifted with magic, so for me to rise to position as the number one unicorn in that kingdom was quite an honor. There was nothing beyond my reach.” Mestra Amymone walked back to her teacher and sat down in front of him. He had never told stories of his past before. It seemed to take great effort for him to so much as sit upright as he continued speaking. “The kingdom is lost. In my arrogance, I thought I could stop King Sombra when he turned to darkness. I had gone into the mountains to cast a spell of protection on the empire. I underestimated how far he had fallen; the lengths to which he would go…” The old unicorn seemed lost in thought for a moment before he continued, “I failed, and when the Crystal Empire vanished, I was alone. I went south to Equestria, where we now are. I made a living, using my magic to help others, and sometimes just to put on a show. Ponies will pay to see something truly spectacular. In all my travels, I was hollow and incomplete. My failure always haunted me, and so I would move to the next town.” Magister Pyxidis pawed at the grass, “On one of these times, I came to a place called Hollow Shades, which is just south of Neighagra Falls. I did my usual tricks and earned my fare. As I was leaving, I happened to hear a mare crying out. From a distance I saw her just as I heard the train whistle. You see, she was stuck on the tracks and couldn’t escape.” Mestra had never seen a train, but she had been told about them many times in stories. She’d been told they were great iron houses on wheels that moved along metal rails on the ground. She very much wanted to see one someday. “Nopony else was close,” her mentor continued,” and I was too far away also. I magically teleported myself to her. It was a terribly frightening moment. The train wouldn’t be able to stop, and I couldn’t get her free. I was afraid to teleport her out because if I damaged the tracks in my haste, it could derail the train. I summoned every ounce of ability that I possessed and created a magical track to carry the train over us that would then rejoin the real tracks.” Magister Pyxidis took a breath and paused for a moment, “That may have been the most difficult spell I ever created. The train rode over us, just as I planned, and it safely continued on its way. It was heavy,” he added with a grin that revealed his missing teeth. “I saved the mare and was able to get her free after the train had gone. Her name was Eridani.” Mestra felt her ears fold back as a lump formed in her throat. It was the same as the name on one of the tombstones. It was like the little bird they had found in the summer. There was a light in the elder stallion’s eyes that Mestra Amymone had never seen before. It made him seem lost in the memory. He continued, “She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She convinced me to stay, and within a year, we had married. Not long after, as tends to happen, she bore a foal. We moved to the cottage just down there. She planted the tree that sits behind you. Pears were always her favorite.” Mestra Amymone listened more intently than she ever had before. Her mentor’s eyes glistened with tears against the waning light. “When the foal came…” he took a deep breath. “It was a filly.” He paused again, as though he would be unable to continue. The butterflies left the forgotten mare and began swirling around him. “Eridani died bringing her into the world.” Mestra felt herself crying now. The mysteries were beginning to become clear. She understood why her mentor had mare’s clothes and why he had a cottage that seemed built for more than one to live in alone. “I named the filly, Equulei,” he continued. “She looked quite a lot like you, Mestra.” The forgotten mare didn’t want to hear any more. Both of them, so dear to her Magister, taken away. She felt a melting in her chest, as though her heart couldn’t handle the things he now said. “She was a joy to me, but nothing could have completely replaced the void left when I lost her mother. She was a unicorn like me, and she was truly gifted. On her seventh birthday, I went into town early. I wanted to get her a gift that she…” he paused, choking back tears. “When I returned, I found her in the pond. She must have used her magic to open the door, but she couldn’t swim.” The pond, the same pond in which Mestra Amymone had also nearly drowned once. Both of them wept for a while in silence. Mestra didn’t know how anypony could survive those losses. Her tears were hot against the cool of night as they ran freely for her friend, her mentor. Pyxidis took a deep breath and continued, “All my great power, and I couldn’t save them.” They sat in silence for several more minutes. “So, I buried them here. No magic, I dug into the earth myself, and I have lived here alone for years that I left off counting. I could bear neither to get rid of their things nor to leave them.” Mestra Amymone couldn’t stand it anymore and she threw her forelegs around her mentor and cried into his shoulder. “The butterflies, just like yours, have visited me every night since then, but I have never gone with them. They are filled with magic, Mestra. The day you fell into the pond, your butterflies came to me. They woke me from my sleep. That’s how I knew you were in trouble.” A fit of coughing overtook the old stallion. Mestra helped him stay upright until it passed. He was heavy. “You have given me a great gift, Mestra Amymone,” the old unicorn said. “This last year has been filled with a joy I expected to never know again. I wish that we could continue this way, but my time is growing short.” Now it was fear that gripped the forgotten mare. She remembered the bird, and the tombstones were sitting nearby. She pushed back, her Magister struggling to stay upright. “I’m dying,” he said plainly. The words were like a dagger through the mare’s heart. “No! You can’t!” Mestra Amymone cried out. “Don’t leave me here alone!” He forced a tired smile, “Mestra, there is nothing I can do to stop it. Do you remember when I told you, given enough time, all living things grow old and die? My magic has already extended my life far beyond what is natural, but I can’t sustain myself that way any longer. My strength is used up.” The fear and sorrowful feelings erupted from the mare’s eyes. She didn’t want Magister to go. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. From some unknown reservoir, deep visceral emotions churned within the mare. She could barely stand as they forced their way to the surface. She cried out, saying nothing. “It’s okay, let it out,” Magister Pyxidis said, pulling her close. They remained that way for a time in the growing darkness, neither saying anything, just being there with each other until Mestra’s tears were finally spent. She looked up, her blue eyes meeting Magister’s green. She hadn’t noticed until that moment, but his eyes seemed dim, not bright as they had been before. He shivered, saying nothing. The pair made their way slowly back to the cabin, the way obscured by the night and Mestra’s vision blurred by tears. A violent fit of coughing overtook the magister when they arrived inside the cabin, driving him down on his knees until it passed. Mestra brought him some water and helped him up, half-carrying him to his favorite chair. He took several deep breaths as he recovered. “I’m sorry,” he broke the silence. “I didn’t want to make you sad, but there is still much for you to learn, and I don’t know how long I’ll be able to help you. Do you think you could manage some hot chocolate?” Mestra nodded, moving to the kitchen and lighting a fire in the stove. They always kept it prepared so it would be easy to light. It would take some time for the water to boil, but she went ahead and got all of the necessary accoutrements laid out nearby. She then returned her attention to the magister. “You’ll have to take over all of the cooking from now on, but the most important thing is reading. It is good that you have learned your letters, but you need to practice. The ability to read gives you the power to learn anything you want to know.” The mare nodded, unsure what to say. He opened his eyes and locked with her gaze. “It’s okay to be sad,” he said. “It is natural, and you must let yourself grieve for a time. However, you cannot let it overcome you as I let my losses consume me.” A drab hopelessness filled the mare as she asked, “But how?” He continued staring into her soul, “It has taken me so many years to learn that you simply have to keep putting one hoof in front of the other. It will hurt, more than you can imagine. You will be overwhelmed at times, but you can’t stop. You have to keep moving.” Mestra let her gaze fall to the floor. Moving anywhere was the last thing she wanted. So crushed she felt by the burden of what was ahead of her, she simply wanted to curl up on the floor and never move again. Sorrow filled as it was, she’d have lived in that moment, stopping time for all eternity if it meant keeping her mentor. Mestra’s butterfly companions flitted about her head beckoning her to follow. She looked back to her magister. The aged stallion shook his head at her. She nodded in reply. Looking back to her butterflies, she shrugged, turning away and ignoring them. Chapter VIIIMestra Amymone sat for hours she had left off counting. The icy chill of winter had bitten her nose, making it feel as numb as her haunches which rested against the snow. The shadows had grown noticeably longer on the silky white terrain while she stared blankly ahead, the words engraved in stone having become a meaningless blur. The memories from only a few weeks before haunted her mind. She had watched helplessly in those final days as her magister deteriorated. In spite of what he had told her and what she had seen, the mare hadn’t accepted what was coming. One morning, like the little bird they’d found in the summer, Magister Pyxidis was gone. Mestra felt as though a piece of herself had gone with him. There was no joy in the world. How she managed to get through that day, the mare didn’t know. The sting of the loss had made each day after only sorrow and ashes, and so atop the big hill she sat. A gust of wind penetrated her red sweater, causing the mare to shiver back into focus. Her eyes still resting on letters crudely carved in solid rock. She read them again, ‘Magister Pyxidis, Chief Unicorn of the Crystal Empire, loving husband and father. Mestra misses you forever.’ She’d felt the sentiment was appropriate, from things her magister had told her, but it didn’t make her feel any better. Nor had saying words over his lifeless body when she’d buried him. Food had lost flavor; learning new things came with no joy. Everything was emptiness. The frigid breeze picked up again, compelling the mare to rise. She stood there a moment as some small measure of prickly feeling returned to her hindquarters. She cast a final glance at the grave, deciding to speak once more. “I’m sad you had to go. You told me I can be sad. I came here and cried. It still hurts. This is the last day, just like you told me,” she sniffed, either from the cold or sorrow, she couldn’t tell. “I’ll come back when the seasons go. I miss you.” Fresh tears welled up in Mestra’s eyes as she closed the distance and embraced the glacial stone. She let them freely fall, turning to walk back down the hill toward the cabin. The last thing the magister had requested was to be buried beside Eridani and Equulei. A difficult task, but the forgotten mare had felt compelled to honor it. The frozen trudge back down the hill was its own misery. The naked branches of the trees felt as joyless as the pony that walked beneath them. The icy landscape, clothed in winter snow was quiet. The last time she’d seen it, there was a source of unspeakable joy for the wonders that she discovered around every corner. This day, everything seemed meaningless. Mestra gained entrance to the cabin without difficulty, shedding her snow-covered boots and crochet layers as well. Though cold in the cabin, she would light a fire and soon be warmed. The little glowing butterflies left their perch above the hearth and danced before the mare’s eyes like little flames in the air. The mare ignored them, tending to the wood in the fireplace and lighting it with flint the way her magister had taught her. As the first sparks gave birth to tiny flames in the kindling beneath, the mare’s stomach growled loudly, causing her to wince from the pain. She had not taken provender with her up the hill, and she had stayed out most of the day. Eating without company caused the activity to lose much of its savor. It had become a strictly utilitarian function, a somber affair. Mestra Amymone rummaged through the cupboards and found some oats, as well as dried apricots and figs. She ate them silently, remembering happier times with her magister. The fire had grown by the time she finished, providing its warmth to the little cabin. The firelight was the only source of illumination as dusk faded from the windows. The mare began to ponder what she might do next. Certainly there was much to learn, and with the icy weather outside, it wouldn’t be safe for her to stray too far from the cabin. She supposed she could stay there indefinitely, since she had already learned how to forage for food and tend the little house. The mare shook her head, pushing the thought from her mind as she rose and walked to the shelf, finding the next book that she had not read. ‘Horseodotus, History of the Crystal Empire, Volume One’. She gently dusted the cover before she opened the ancient tome. The contents were as dry and dusty as had been the outside. Names and dates of important events that held little meaning to Mestra, but she did find the mention of the Crystal Heart of interest. A magical artifact that protected the empire since its foundation, driving away the frigid winds of the surrounding tundra, the Crystal Heart was powered by the love of the crystal ponies that lived within the fiefdom around the palace. Her mind wandered a bit to something her magister had once told her. He’d said that ponies had two hearts. One was a part of their biology; it circulated blood through their bodies, taking fresh air from the lungs and expelling used air. The second was a metaphor, which he’d described as a poetic picture that conveys an idea. The heart in that case being the center of emotions and feelings, love and hate. Mestra felt a shiver work up her spine. The similarity for how the Crystal Heart worked and the emotional heart were simultaneously beautiful and sad to her. If the Crystal Empire hadn’t been lost, she might have liked to see the Crystal Heart someday. Thought of her own future continued to plague her mind. In spite of her melancholy, she felt her magister wouldn’t like it if she stayed in this place. That still left the unanswered question. Where would she go? The mare let out a sigh as she marked her place in the history lesson and returned it to the shelf. Wanting something else, she scanned around until a little pink ribbon caught her eye. It was sticking out of one of the smaller books, obscured because it was wedged between its owner and the volume beside it. The book in question had no visible markings on the spine to identify what it might be, and so the mare pulled it from the shelf. There was no dust accumulated on it, though the binding did look rather well used. Mestra read a single word from the cover, ‘Journal’. Following the pink silk ribbon, Mestra found it marking a page near the back of the journal. The words scrawled within looked familiar to the mare. Her heart fluttered. The writing was instantly recognizable as that of Magister Pyxidis. She read, “Mestra, it is my hope that you will find this after I am gone. The things I have been teaching you were to prepare you for the greatest adventure that could lie ahead: your life.” The surprise that Mestra felt from the discovery of the message left her feeling overwhelmed as emotions churned within. Fresh tears welled up, springing forth and running down the mare’s face. She was careful to not let them drip on the journal, the message from her magister. “Ultimately, it will be up to you what path you choose to walk. I wish I’d had more time to train you up, to equip you for the challenges you will face, but wishing for a thing does not make it so. I don’t know your path forward. But consider one thing. Before you became forgotten, you were somepony else. You had family, friends, an entire other life before you met me. Clearly it was a life that had some great sorrows, but perhaps there was love there as well. You may have family that misses you as you now miss me.” The heaving emotions were nearly too much, and Mestra’s vision blurred, preventing her from continuing for a moment as she wiped her eyes clear. “In any case, if you choose to leave the cabin, to seek out other ponies, the nearest town is due south. There is a book on cartography and navigation on the shelf that you should read. It would also serve you well to be wary of strangers. Not everypony is kind and helpful.” She turned the page, dismayed to discover she was nearing the end of the message. “Whatever you choose, do an old stallion proud, and remember the things that I taught you. Remember the good times. Remember the sad times. Unpleasant though they are, you can learn so much from them that they are an invaluable source of wisdom. You can overcome because you are strong. Farewell, Mestra Amymone, in all your journeys. Magister Pyxidis.” A fresh wave of sorrow overcame the mare’s defenses. Dropping the journal, she sank to the floor as great heaving breaths were not enough to sustain her through the sadness. She cried until her tears were spent. She wailed until her voice left her. She laid there for a time, just watching the fire as it consumed the logs she had put in the hearth, flames licking up toward the chimney, dancing about gleefully. She hated them for that. The fire should have been sad with her. Eventually, thirst drove her to stand and tend her need. After adding another log to hot coals and waning flame, Mestra sat in her magister’s favorite chair and tried to work through her thoughts to a decision. She liked the cabin, but what did she really know of the world? She’d seen enough to believe she had seen far too little of it to know if she should stay in such a tiny corner to herself. She also considered her magister’s words. He believed she might have family and friends out there, somewhere. Missing her so terribly as she missed him. Her little golden butterflies flitted about her until the mare waved them away. “I can not go with you. Not now, not ever. I made a promise to my magister.” Sitting there in her magister’s rocking chair by the fire, things seemed to suddenly make sense. She didn’t want to be the cause of such heartache for anypony else. She was definitely going to leave the cabin when spring came to Equestria. That meant she had precious few weeks to learn everything that the books could teach her. She’d also need to take stock of what provisions she would need for the journey. Though a heaviness still laid on her, there was something else born within. Mestra almost felt as though a flame had kindled in her heart. It began to fill her with a warmth of hope that it wouldn’t be just darkness and sorrow ahead. Mestra Amymone felt herself smile, perhaps for the first time in weeks. There was a path before her. She knew what to do. The little butterflies found purchase in her mane, tickling the mare’s scalp just a little as they did. She allowed herself a giggle. Come spring, Mestra Amymone would be ready to get moving.
Chapter VOnce upon a time in the magical land of Equestria, there was a young mare who lost her memory, even her ability to speak. Accompanied by her magical butterfly companions, she was taken in by a wise old unicorn who taught her what she needed to find her place in the world. This is the story of Mestra Amymone… Summer birds sang heartily as a warm breeze caressed the trees. The forgotten mare flicked her ears as they were tickled by the wind. Water dripped from her mane and coat, cooling her. The golden butterflies danced nearby as Magister’s coughing drowned the avian songs. The fit soon passed, and he continued padding slowly behind her. “Vowels,” he said. The mare felt her brow furrow as she skipped along, “A, E, I, O, and U!” “And-“ “And sometimes Y!” she spun to face him. The old unicorn chuckled at her enthusiasm. He nearly had caught up to her when he spoke again. “You have certainly taken to everything I’ve tried to teach you.” She grinned in reply. “I expect you’ll be an accomplished swimmer soon. Though, your verbs still need work.” Mestra felt her shoulders slump as she fell in stride with Magister. “State of being verbs, all tenses.” The mare let her brain work to recall the words before making her reply, “Am... is... was... were... being... been.” “And?” he asked expectantly. “Nuah! Is not and! And is… is a con… a con…” “And is a conjunction, but you missed two.” Mestra stopped in her tracks, working her mind to find the missing verbs. She looked around, as if the trees or undergrowth would give her an answer. Something caught her attention at the base of a nearby tree. She turned and trotted over to it, tilting her head quizzically at the discovery. A brightly colored bird lay crumpled on the ground. It was not unlike the hue of the sky, though a bit deeper. The tips of an outstretched wing had patterned black and white. Her nose wrinkled at the sickly sweet stench that permeated the area. She took a step back from the silent fowl. “Ah?” “Use your words, Mestra.” She shook her head, “This bird… Why is… he sleepy?” Magister frowned, “It’s a bluejay, and it isn’t sleeping.” “Not sleep…ing?” “No, Mestra. He’s dead.” “Dead,” the mare repeated the unknown word. “Magister… can wake up him?” The old unicorn frowned a second time, “No, Mestra. He’s gone.” She looked down at the bird, confused by the statement and asked, “Where he did go?” Magister coughed before answering, “The life, the energy that powers the body… some call it the soul… it isn’t there anymore. Where it goes is the subject of much debate, but once it leaves the body, it doesn’t return.” The mare remembered one of her new words and asked, “Not never?” “No, Mestra,” the stallion sat down. “Life is a frail thing, like a candle. However, unlike a candle, it cannot be relit once it is extinguished. Dead is forever.” The mare looked at the lifeless form again, still so brightly colored. It should have been cheerful, but it made her sad to think that it would never sing again. The little butterflies danced in front of Mestra’s eyes for a moment before Magister waved them away. The mare looked to her mentor, feeling some unknown need to do something for the bird. He read the pleading in her eyes and nodded slowly. “There is only one thing we can do,” he spoke deliberately. “The cabin is just around the bend, if you would be good enough to run ahead and grab a shovel, I’ll wait here, and we can give him a proper burial.” “Ah!” the mare exclaimed as she darted off. She galloped past trees and arrived at the cabin within moments, her butterflies struggling to keep up. The gardening shed was outside, and Mestra approached it warily. While she wasn’t exactly terrified of spiders, they did give her somewhat of a tiny fright when they crawled upon her. Cautiously checking as she opened the old wooden door, she was pleased to discover neither web nor arachnid to impede her progress. She retrieved the shovel and returned to Magister at a much slower pace, encumbered by her burden. She found her mentor still sitting where she’d left him, and he showed her where to dig. It was not her favorite activity, but there was something comforting about the simplicity of working the earth. The rich scent of freshly disturbed soil soon filled the air, and it wasn’t long before the old unicorn told her to stop. “Now, the shovel, please.” Mestra passed the tool to Magister, and he used it to gently lift the body of the bird, delicately placing it in the ground. He then leaned the shovel against the tree and stood over the hole for a moment. Looking to her, he said, “It is customary to say words, reverently.” “Rever… rev… ently?” “Reverently. It means, respectfully or thoughtfully.” She nodded in understanding as her butterflies landed on her back. “Little bluejay,” Magister began, “You were beautiful in body and in song. The world is a sadder place to no longer have your melody sounding in it.” He looked up to Mestra, who felt rather self-conscious and shook her head, opting to say nothing. Magister nodded and then took the shovel, using it to fill in the hole. As they walked back to the cabin, the passing of the bird weighed heavily on the mare’s mind. “Magister, why did bird dead?” “Die. Why did the bird die?” “Ah,” she suddenly remembered to use her proper words, “yes.” He stopped just short of the door to the gardening shed. Magister looked down for a moment in thought. The butterflies lifted off and flew over to him. He waved them away and returned his attention to his ward. “Mestra… it is the nature of all living things to someday die.” It took a few moments for the impact of what he’d said to become fully realized by the mare. Something akin to panic flooded her mind and her ears folded back. “Everything?” Magister nodded solemnly, “I wish I could tell you differently, but… I cannot protect you from hard truths, and I’d be a fool to try. Given enough time, we all grow old and die.” She didn’t like it, not one bit. The mare looked away, but found no comfort in the trees or the singing of the birds overhead. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to be like the little bird, forever silenced and left to decay. The warm embrace of the old unicorn took the edge from her panic. “Easy, Mestra. It’s okay. You have many years yet before you have to worry about that.” She relaxed into his fatherly embrace, burying her face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry to have so frightened you. I suppose I thought that, since you had the presence of mind to ask the question, you needed a proper answer.” The pair separated, the mare looking into the wise elder’s green eyes. “There are many hard truths in this world, Mestra Amymone. Some are far more easily borne than others. Since we met, I’ve been trying to train you up with everything you’ll need to face the world. Sometimes, what we need and what we want are quite different…” The old unicorn took a breath, seeming lost in thought for a moment before he smiled and added, “Try to not dwell on these things. You can’t change them, after all.” She returned the expression, and did feel somewhat comforted, though not exactly happy. He returned the shovel to its place, coughing a bit as he closed the door to the musty shed. “Come on, I need some water, and I think you need a candy.” Mestra’s spirit was somewhat lifted at the promise of the sweetness as the pair went into the cabin.
Chapter VIMestra and Magister sat by the fireless hearth. The elder unicorn had not lit flame within since the cold days of winter had passed. There was somewhat of a chill to the air. Magister had explained that it was the coming autumn, which heralded the approaching of winter once again. What held her attention presently was a quiz on counting. Her eyes examined hay straws on the floor as she added silently. "Five, and five more; that's ten!" the mare said proudly as her butterflies sat on her back. "Very good, Mestra," the gray-maned unicorn smiled at her. "And how about these?" "That is three, and four, and two; that makes nine!" The old unicorn chuckled at her exuberance, causing him to cough, "You certainly do learn quickly, young one. If only you were a unicorn, I could teach you some magic as well." She tilted her head at him quizzically. He returned her gaze but didn't say anything. She was certain that he knew a question was coming. Magister was adept at reading her expressions, but he never would anticipate what she might be wondering. He patiently waited for her to formulate it in her mind. "One and one makes two," Mestra said slowly. "You have two chairs." "Yes, we have two chairs.” "Two chairs by the fire; two chairs by the table," Mestra could feel her brow furrow in thought. Then she asked, "Why do you have two chairs?" "One for me, and one for you. That makes two," he replied. She tilted her head again, "But what about before me?" His smile slowly evaporated, "What do you mean?" "I remember," she said curiously. "When I came, there were two chairs. Did you know I was coming?" "No, Mestra, I did not," the unicorn replied dryly. He began cleaning up the straw. "Nopony else comes here but me," the mare said, still trying to work it out. "You and me makes two. Why two chairs?" "Don't worry about it, Mestra; it isn't important." This answer simply would not do. She felt a powerful curiosity at the mysterious presence of the extra chair. Given her lack of memories before they’d met the previous winter, she simply didn't have any refined ability to understand subtext, which made the old unicorn's moods somewhat unpredictable to the mare. “Magister, you were the only one here. Why two chairs?" she asked again. Suddenly remembering the sweaters and scarf that he had given her, she inquired, "Why do you have clothes for mares?" "Mestra!" he replied hotly as he stomped toward her, "I told you it is unimportant!" He hesitated a moment, his expression filled with concern and something else. Then he turned and left the cottage, slamming the door behind him. The mare felt crushed by the reply. Surely he hadn't intended to hurt her feelings, but that is exactly what he had done. Mestra Amymone burst into tears and put her head down, crying as a filly would. The butterflies suddenly lifted off of her and began swirling around the forgotten mare’s head. They then flew toward the door. Through the sadness she now felt, she was somehow compelled to follow them. Drying her eyes, she stood up and walked toward the glowing little companions. They went outside into the night. The forest around the cabin was familiar to her, though it always made her somewhat uneasy in the dark. Even by the moonlight, she could tell that the leaves were changing from their normal colors, looking almost as if they had ignited into hues of oranges, reds, and yellows as though they were aflame. There was also a coolness to the air. The butterflies led her away through a fog. In a short time, as if by some secret path she had never been able to find previously, Mestra found herself in a different part of the forest. She might have been afraid, but she knew this place. It was familiar somehow, as if she’d seen it from a dream. The trees sat by the water, with large gnarled roots that covered the ground and drank their fill. Many more butterflies than her companions were there, attached to the trees. As she drew closer, they too began to come toward her. They were beautiful, almost enough to lift her spirits. Something inside told her to take caution, so she stopped short of the bank. The butterflies still seemed to beckon her to come closer. Curiosity would soon get the better of her. A blinding flash of light and a thunderclap startled Mestra Amymone, and she spun to find the wise old unicorn standing behind her as if he had appeared out of thin air. A pained expression was on his face as he fell down to his knees. "Mestra!" he said almost frantically, "don't go near the trees." She tilted her head questioningly, "Why not?” "They will make you forget," he said. "Why should they do that?" she asked. "It is their purpose," the unicorn replied just as a fit of coughing overcame him. It was a strange thing that a tree should be able to make one forget, but Magister had never lied to Mestra. He knew everything. Her mentor recovered, finally standing again and continued, “They feed off of sadness and sorrow. I expect that is how you came to forget yourself. You've been here before, haven't you?" She turned and looked at the trees again. It was definitely a familiar place. She nodded her answer. "I suspected as much when I first saw you. I was afraid they might bring you back here eventually." "Where are we, Magister?” she asked. "How I did not find this place before?" "It's a kind of magic," he puffed, seemingly out of breath. "They can lead a pony here from anywhere, but what I don't know is what will happen to you if you get too close. They might just take your sadness, or they might take everything again. You could forget all the things I've taught you." That was a somewhat unnerving thought, and Mestra took a step toward the unicorn, but then stopped short as she remembered his previous harsh words. He studied the look in her eyes. "I am sorry I yelled at you. I didn't mean to hurt you, but there are some things that I'm not ready to say. There are some things that you're not ready to hear." He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, "If you come back with me now and don't return to this place again, I promise that I will tell you everything when we're both ready." If she didn't know better, she might have thought he was afraid. She closed the distance between herself and her wise old friend. He smiled uneasily at her and then closed his eyes. They stood in silence a moment, Magister drawing a deep breath. A dim white light glowed from his horn as he concentrated. It grew brighter until a blinding flash of light enveloped both of them. A popping rang the mare’s ears, and the next thing Mestra Amymone knew, they were back in the cabin. The old unicorn was taken by a fit of coughing and collapsed to the floor. Panicked, the mare tried to pick him up, but he pushed her back. Between coughs, he managed to say, “I’ll be fine… Mestra… Just give me a moment…” Her fears waned as Magister recovered from the fit and slowly stood, ambling to the kitchen to get a glass of water. It was then that Mestra noticed the absence of her companions, spinning about to look for them. "Where are my butterflies?” "I don't know," the unicorn replied with a sigh of relief, "but I expect they shall return by morning." The mare was highly unsettled, still looking around for her butterflies when the old stallion approached her. She met his gaze. “It’s going to be okay, take a breath.” Mestra inhaled deeply and held it for a moment before letting it out. It did have a calming effect. Bedtime was an unpleasant experience that night, mainly for the uncertainty for the butterflies. Mestra loved to watch them as she got sleepy, and it made her sad to not have them. She didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until she awakened the next morning. The butterflies were flitting about the room, one of them having landed on her snout and tickling her. Mestra was overjoyed to have them back, though she didn’t forget that night or the warning that Magister had given her. She knew that some day, the butterflies might try to take her again to the trees that make one forget. She resolved that she wouldn’t follow them to that place, not ever.
Chapter VIIMestra Amymone walked through the forest, dead fallen leaves crunching beneath her booted hooves. Her butterflies danced through the air nearby, the four of them together in a little group. The air was crisp and cool, her scarf and crochet hat being sufficient to keep her warm. Most of the leaves had given up their fiery colors and abandoned their trees. A few still remained aloft, though they too would not stay up for much longer. Arriving back at the cabin, Mestra entered, leaving the door open just long enough for her little companions to follow. She could hear Magister coughing again, so she went to the kitchen to get a glass of water for him. While there, she also offloaded the fruits of her excursion: a few bags of assorted berries, and the largest pumpkin she had seen yet. Magister nodded his thanks when Mestra gave him the glass of water. He looked thin and frail to the mare, even more so now that he had given her most of the chores to do herself. The water seemed to work a bit of rejuvenation on the old unicorn, and he recovered from the bout of coughing. “Thank you.” “Ah! I found a pumpkin.” “Good. I’ll show you how to prepare it,” he said between heaving breaths. “Mestra, I would like to go for a walk today.” “I get your scarf.” “Will get. You will get my scarf.” “Will get. Ah!” She was glad that he wanted to go out. She enjoyed the forest greatly, but it was somewhat lonely without Magister. He hadn’t joined her on an excursion for several weeks. The pair made their way outside, closely followed by Mestra’s butterflies. The prospect of winter returning pleased the mare. She remembered seeing her breath on the air, and she had loved the snow. A gust of wind compelled Mestra to tighten her blue scarf and pull her white crochet hat lower. Magister seemed to shrink against it, and the mare helped him in the golden light that heralded the coming sunset. Her butterfly companions swirled about, mostly staying just behind her as they walked. The pair ambled through the forest toward a place that Mestra had not before been. Her mentor had never shown her the overgrown path that led to a big hill. Muscles strained as they climbed upward and left the trees behind. It made the forgotten mare feel particularly warm, but sitting still on top would cool her down again. The view that lay before them to the west was magnificent. The darkening sky was melting into various hues of golden yellows, reds, and purples in some wispy clouds on the horizon. A lone pear tree stood atop the hill. The two came close and sat in front of it. They watched together as the sky transformed itself into the most dazzling display of colors that Mestra Amymone had ever seen. “It’s like a fire!” she exclaimed. “Yes, Mestra,” the magister smiled, drawing deep breaths from the exertion of climbing up the incline. “It is a fire.” “What keeps it up there?” she asked, tilting her head. He chuckled at the question, letting out a cough “I can only guess a magic beyond any that I understand.” That was a surprising statement from her mentor. Although he rarely used it, she was well aware that he knew magic. He had once pulled her from the frozen pond into which she’d fallen with little effort. Another time, he had appeared out of thin air and taken Mestra Amymone back to the cabin in the blink of an eye. They continued watching in silence as the shining disc of the sun finally slipped below the tree line, its golden rays escaping from across the land. Its warmth left, the air cooling Mestra’s face. “I haven’t come here in far too long,” the wise old unicorn broke the silence of the evening. “Why is that, Magister?” the mare asked. Without saying another word, the unicorn turned his head and nodded behind them to the tree. Mestra turned and could see two stone pillars sticking out of the ground near the roots. She hadn’t noticed them when they had arrived. The mare took the few steps back and looked at the short, wide stone markers. There were words carved into them. Mestra Amymone was good with her letters, but there were words she didn’t recognize. She concluded that they must be names. Eridani was on the left stone, and Equulei was on the right as she faced them. Further reading led her to understand what they were: gravestones. The mare turned back to face her mentor. “Who they were?” she asked. Silence followed for nearly a minute. She stood her ground, staring to him. “Magister?” The old unicorn let out a sigh, “That is not my name, Mestra. I am Magister Pyxidis. Magister was the title bestowed upon me. I was once chief unicorn, long ago in a place called the Crystal Empire. Many unicorns are gifted with magic, so for me to rise to position as the number one unicorn in that kingdom was quite an honor. There was nothing beyond my reach.” Mestra Amymone walked back to her teacher and sat down in front of him. He had never told stories of his past before. It seemed to take great effort for him to so much as sit upright as he continued speaking. “The kingdom is lost. In my arrogance, I thought I could stop King Sombra when he turned to darkness. I had gone into the mountains to cast a spell of protection on the empire. I underestimated how far he had fallen; the lengths to which he would go…” The old unicorn seemed lost in thought for a moment before he continued, “I failed, and when the Crystal Empire vanished, I was alone. I went south to Equestria, where we now are. I made a living, using my magic to help others, and sometimes just to put on a show. Ponies will pay to see something truly spectacular. In all my travels, I was hollow and incomplete. My failure always haunted me, and so I would move to the next town.” Magister Pyxidis pawed at the grass, “On one of these times, I came to a place called Hollow Shades, which is just south of Neighagra Falls. I did my usual tricks and earned my fare. As I was leaving, I happened to hear a mare crying out. From a distance I saw her just as I heard the train whistle. You see, she was stuck on the tracks and couldn’t escape.” Mestra had never seen a train, but she had been told about them many times in stories. She’d been told they were great iron houses on wheels that moved along metal rails on the ground. She very much wanted to see one someday. “Nopony else was close,” her mentor continued,” and I was too far away also. I magically teleported myself to her. It was a terribly frightening moment. The train wouldn’t be able to stop, and I couldn’t get her free. I was afraid to teleport her out because if I damaged the tracks in my haste, it could derail the train. I summoned every ounce of ability that I possessed and created a magical track to carry the train over us that would then rejoin the real tracks.” Magister Pyxidis took a breath and paused for a moment, “That may have been the most difficult spell I ever created. The train rode over us, just as I planned, and it safely continued on its way. It was heavy,” he added with a grin that revealed his missing teeth. “I saved the mare and was able to get her free after the train had gone. Her name was Eridani.” Mestra felt her ears fold back as a lump formed in her throat. It was the same as the name on one of the tombstones. It was like the little bird they had found in the summer. There was a light in the elder stallion’s eyes that Mestra Amymone had never seen before. It made him seem lost in the memory. He continued, “She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She convinced me to stay, and within a year, we had married. Not long after, as tends to happen, she bore a foal. We moved to the cottage just down there. She planted the tree that sits behind you. Pears were always her favorite.” Mestra Amymone listened more intently than she ever had before. Her mentor’s eyes glistened with tears against the waning light. “When the foal came…” he took a deep breath. “It was a filly.” He paused again, as though he would be unable to continue. The butterflies left the forgotten mare and began swirling around him. “Eridani died bringing her into the world.” Mestra felt herself crying now. The mysteries were beginning to become clear. She understood why her mentor had mare’s clothes and why he had a cottage that seemed built for more than one to live in alone. “I named the filly, Equulei,” he continued. “She looked quite a lot like you, Mestra.” The forgotten mare didn’t want to hear any more. Both of them, so dear to her Magister, taken away. She felt a melting in her chest, as though her heart couldn’t handle the things he now said. “She was a joy to me, but nothing could have completely replaced the void left when I lost her mother. She was a unicorn like me, and she was truly gifted. On her seventh birthday, I went into town early. I wanted to get her a gift that she…” he paused, choking back tears. “When I returned, I found her in the pond. She must have used her magic to open the door, but she couldn’t swim.” The pond, the same pond in which Mestra Amymone had also nearly drowned once. Both of them wept for a while in silence. Mestra didn’t know how anypony could survive those losses. Her tears were hot against the cool of night as they ran freely for her friend, her mentor. Pyxidis took a deep breath and continued, “All my great power, and I couldn’t save them.” They sat in silence for several more minutes. “So, I buried them here. No magic, I dug into the earth myself, and I have lived here alone for years that I left off counting. I could bear neither to get rid of their things nor to leave them.” Mestra Amymone couldn’t stand it anymore and she threw her forelegs around her mentor and cried into his shoulder. “The butterflies, just like yours, have visited me every night since then, but I have never gone with them. They are filled with magic, Mestra. The day you fell into the pond, your butterflies came to me. They woke me from my sleep. That’s how I knew you were in trouble.” A fit of coughing overtook the old stallion. Mestra helped him stay upright until it passed. He was heavy. “You have given me a great gift, Mestra Amymone,” the old unicorn said. “This last year has been filled with a joy I expected to never know again. I wish that we could continue this way, but my time is growing short.” Now it was fear that gripped the forgotten mare. She remembered the bird, and the tombstones were sitting nearby. She pushed back, her Magister struggling to stay upright. “I’m dying,” he said plainly. The words were like a dagger through the mare’s heart. “No! You can’t!” Mestra Amymone cried out. “Don’t leave me here alone!” He forced a tired smile, “Mestra, there is nothing I can do to stop it. Do you remember when I told you, given enough time, all living things grow old and die? My magic has already extended my life far beyond what is natural, but I can’t sustain myself that way any longer. My strength is used up.” The fear and sorrowful feelings erupted from the mare’s eyes. She didn’t want Magister to go. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. From some unknown reservoir, deep visceral emotions churned within the mare. She could barely stand as they forced their way to the surface. She cried out, saying nothing. “It’s okay, let it out,” Magister Pyxidis said, pulling her close. They remained that way for a time in the growing darkness, neither saying anything, just being there with each other until Mestra’s tears were finally spent. She looked up, her blue eyes meeting Magister’s green. She hadn’t noticed until that moment, but his eyes seemed dim, not bright as they had been before. He shivered, saying nothing. The pair made their way slowly back to the cabin, the way obscured by the night and Mestra’s vision blurred by tears. A violent fit of coughing overtook the magister when they arrived inside the cabin, driving him down on his knees until it passed. Mestra brought him some water and helped him up, half-carrying him to his favorite chair. He took several deep breaths as he recovered. “I’m sorry,” he broke the silence. “I didn’t want to make you sad, but there is still much for you to learn, and I don’t know how long I’ll be able to help you. Do you think you could manage some hot chocolate?” Mestra nodded, moving to the kitchen and lighting a fire in the stove. They always kept it prepared so it would be easy to light. It would take some time for the water to boil, but she went ahead and got all of the necessary accoutrements laid out nearby. She then returned her attention to the magister. “You’ll have to take over all of the cooking from now on, but the most important thing is reading. It is good that you have learned your letters, but you need to practice. The ability to read gives you the power to learn anything you want to know.” The mare nodded, unsure what to say. He opened his eyes and locked with her gaze. “It’s okay to be sad,” he said. “It is natural, and you must let yourself grieve for a time. However, you cannot let it overcome you as I let my losses consume me.” A drab hopelessness filled the mare as she asked, “But how?” He continued staring into her soul, “It has taken me so many years to learn that you simply have to keep putting one hoof in front of the other. It will hurt, more than you can imagine. You will be overwhelmed at times, but you can’t stop. You have to keep moving.” Mestra let her gaze fall to the floor. Moving anywhere was the last thing she wanted. So crushed she felt by the burden of what was ahead of her, she simply wanted to curl up on the floor and never move again. Sorrow filled as it was, she’d have lived in that moment, stopping time for all eternity if it meant keeping her mentor. Mestra’s butterfly companions flitted about her head beckoning her to follow. She looked back to her magister. The aged stallion shook his head at her. She nodded in reply. Looking back to her butterflies, she shrugged, turning away and ignoring them.
Chapter VIIIMestra Amymone sat for hours she had left off counting. The icy chill of winter had bitten her nose, making it feel as numb as her haunches which rested against the snow. The shadows had grown noticeably longer on the silky white terrain while she stared blankly ahead, the words engraved in stone having become a meaningless blur. The memories from only a few weeks before haunted her mind. She had watched helplessly in those final days as her magister deteriorated. In spite of what he had told her and what she had seen, the mare hadn’t accepted what was coming. One morning, like the little bird they’d found in the summer, Magister Pyxidis was gone. Mestra felt as though a piece of herself had gone with him. There was no joy in the world. How she managed to get through that day, the mare didn’t know. The sting of the loss had made each day after only sorrow and ashes, and so atop the big hill she sat. A gust of wind penetrated her red sweater, causing the mare to shiver back into focus. Her eyes still resting on letters crudely carved in solid rock. She read them again, ‘Magister Pyxidis, Chief Unicorn of the Crystal Empire, loving husband and father. Mestra misses you forever.’ She’d felt the sentiment was appropriate, from things her magister had told her, but it didn’t make her feel any better. Nor had saying words over his lifeless body when she’d buried him. Food had lost flavor; learning new things came with no joy. Everything was emptiness. The frigid breeze picked up again, compelling the mare to rise. She stood there a moment as some small measure of prickly feeling returned to her hindquarters. She cast a final glance at the grave, deciding to speak once more. “I’m sad you had to go. You told me I can be sad. I came here and cried. It still hurts. This is the last day, just like you told me,” she sniffed, either from the cold or sorrow, she couldn’t tell. “I’ll come back when the seasons go. I miss you.” Fresh tears welled up in Mestra’s eyes as she closed the distance and embraced the glacial stone. She let them freely fall, turning to walk back down the hill toward the cabin. The last thing the magister had requested was to be buried beside Eridani and Equulei. A difficult task, but the forgotten mare had felt compelled to honor it. The frozen trudge back down the hill was its own misery. The naked branches of the trees felt as joyless as the pony that walked beneath them. The icy landscape, clothed in winter snow was quiet. The last time she’d seen it, there was a source of unspeakable joy for the wonders that she discovered around every corner. This day, everything seemed meaningless. Mestra gained entrance to the cabin without difficulty, shedding her snow-covered boots and crochet layers as well. Though cold in the cabin, she would light a fire and soon be warmed. The little glowing butterflies left their perch above the hearth and danced before the mare’s eyes like little flames in the air. The mare ignored them, tending to the wood in the fireplace and lighting it with flint the way her magister had taught her. As the first sparks gave birth to tiny flames in the kindling beneath, the mare’s stomach growled loudly, causing her to wince from the pain. She had not taken provender with her up the hill, and she had stayed out most of the day. Eating without company caused the activity to lose much of its savor. It had become a strictly utilitarian function, a somber affair. Mestra Amymone rummaged through the cupboards and found some oats, as well as dried apricots and figs. She ate them silently, remembering happier times with her magister. The fire had grown by the time she finished, providing its warmth to the little cabin. The firelight was the only source of illumination as dusk faded from the windows. The mare began to ponder what she might do next. Certainly there was much to learn, and with the icy weather outside, it wouldn’t be safe for her to stray too far from the cabin. She supposed she could stay there indefinitely, since she had already learned how to forage for food and tend the little house. The mare shook her head, pushing the thought from her mind as she rose and walked to the shelf, finding the next book that she had not read. ‘Horseodotus, History of the Crystal Empire, Volume One’. She gently dusted the cover before she opened the ancient tome. The contents were as dry and dusty as had been the outside. Names and dates of important events that held little meaning to Mestra, but she did find the mention of the Crystal Heart of interest. A magical artifact that protected the empire since its foundation, driving away the frigid winds of the surrounding tundra, the Crystal Heart was powered by the love of the crystal ponies that lived within the fiefdom around the palace. Her mind wandered a bit to something her magister had once told her. He’d said that ponies had two hearts. One was a part of their biology; it circulated blood through their bodies, taking fresh air from the lungs and expelling used air. The second was a metaphor, which he’d described as a poetic picture that conveys an idea. The heart in that case being the center of emotions and feelings, love and hate. Mestra felt a shiver work up her spine. The similarity for how the Crystal Heart worked and the emotional heart were simultaneously beautiful and sad to her. If the Crystal Empire hadn’t been lost, she might have liked to see the Crystal Heart someday. Thought of her own future continued to plague her mind. In spite of her melancholy, she felt her magister wouldn’t like it if she stayed in this place. That still left the unanswered question. Where would she go? The mare let out a sigh as she marked her place in the history lesson and returned it to the shelf. Wanting something else, she scanned around until a little pink ribbon caught her eye. It was sticking out of one of the smaller books, obscured because it was wedged between its owner and the volume beside it. The book in question had no visible markings on the spine to identify what it might be, and so the mare pulled it from the shelf. There was no dust accumulated on it, though the binding did look rather well used. Mestra read a single word from the cover, ‘Journal’. Following the pink silk ribbon, Mestra found it marking a page near the back of the journal. The words scrawled within looked familiar to the mare. Her heart fluttered. The writing was instantly recognizable as that of Magister Pyxidis. She read, “Mestra, it is my hope that you will find this after I am gone. The things I have been teaching you were to prepare you for the greatest adventure that could lie ahead: your life.” The surprise that Mestra felt from the discovery of the message left her feeling overwhelmed as emotions churned within. Fresh tears welled up, springing forth and running down the mare’s face. She was careful to not let them drip on the journal, the message from her magister. “Ultimately, it will be up to you what path you choose to walk. I wish I’d had more time to train you up, to equip you for the challenges you will face, but wishing for a thing does not make it so. I don’t know your path forward. But consider one thing. Before you became forgotten, you were somepony else. You had family, friends, an entire other life before you met me. Clearly it was a life that had some great sorrows, but perhaps there was love there as well. You may have family that misses you as you now miss me.” The heaving emotions were nearly too much, and Mestra’s vision blurred, preventing her from continuing for a moment as she wiped her eyes clear. “In any case, if you choose to leave the cabin, to seek out other ponies, the nearest town is due south. There is a book on cartography and navigation on the shelf that you should read. It would also serve you well to be wary of strangers. Not everypony is kind and helpful.” She turned the page, dismayed to discover she was nearing the end of the message. “Whatever you choose, do an old stallion proud, and remember the things that I taught you. Remember the good times. Remember the sad times. Unpleasant though they are, you can learn so much from them that they are an invaluable source of wisdom. You can overcome because you are strong. Farewell, Mestra Amymone, in all your journeys. Magister Pyxidis.” A fresh wave of sorrow overcame the mare’s defenses. Dropping the journal, she sank to the floor as great heaving breaths were not enough to sustain her through the sadness. She cried until her tears were spent. She wailed until her voice left her. She laid there for a time, just watching the fire as it consumed the logs she had put in the hearth, flames licking up toward the chimney, dancing about gleefully. She hated them for that. The fire should have been sad with her. Eventually, thirst drove her to stand and tend her need. After adding another log to hot coals and waning flame, Mestra sat in her magister’s favorite chair and tried to work through her thoughts to a decision. She liked the cabin, but what did she really know of the world? She’d seen enough to believe she had seen far too little of it to know if she should stay in such a tiny corner to herself. She also considered her magister’s words. He believed she might have family and friends out there, somewhere. Missing her so terribly as she missed him. Her little golden butterflies flitted about her until the mare waved them away. “I can not go with you. Not now, not ever. I made a promise to my magister.” Sitting there in her magister’s rocking chair by the fire, things seemed to suddenly make sense. She didn’t want to be the cause of such heartache for anypony else. She was definitely going to leave the cabin when spring came to Equestria. That meant she had precious few weeks to learn everything that the books could teach her. She’d also need to take stock of what provisions she would need for the journey. Though a heaviness still laid on her, there was something else born within. Mestra almost felt as though a flame had kindled in her heart. It began to fill her with a warmth of hope that it wouldn’t be just darkness and sorrow ahead. Mestra Amymone felt herself smile, perhaps for the first time in weeks. There was a path before her. She knew what to do. The little butterflies found purchase in her mane, tickling the mare’s scalp just a little as they did. She allowed herself a giggle. Come spring, Mestra Amymone would be ready to get moving.
