The End of All Things

by Parker

Rating: everyone
Tags: Sad, Starlight Glimmer, Original Character, Adventure, Slice of Life, Doctor Whooves, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 7033

Twilight Sparkle has ruled Equestria for ages, but what will she do when faced with the end of the world?

Princess Twilight Sparkle and her friends have faced endless troubles while ruling Equestria. There's never been a challenge they could not conquer.

But the end of the world has come, and nopony can stop it.

Contains narrative that jumps ahead into the future, several original characters, a despondent princess, probably some crying, and the magic of friendship.

A huge thank you goes out to Semillon, who beta read this story and provided some invaluable critiques.

Published 2019-10-11 01:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-10-11 01:30:01 UTC

All Good Things

Twilight Sparkle hovered around her desk, checking for the fourth time to be sure she wasn’t leaving anything behind. Not that it would matter. Starlight could easily send her anything that she left, or her first pupil could just use whatever it was in the running of the school.

The alicorn fought down the instinct to hyperventilate. It was fine. She was fine. Starlight was going to do great as Headmare, and Twilight herself was going to do fine leading Equestria.

“Twilight?” a voice from near the door asked, “you okay?”

“Yes. Just fine. Just re-checking my desk. Again.” She breathed deep, reaching for an elusive calm. “And thinking about how you’re going to be a great Headmare.”

Starlight Glimmer blushed. “Only because I had such a great teacher.” The unicorn closed the distance from the door and laid a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “Who’s going to be a great leader, too.”

Twilight felt her mouth go dry. She nodded, though.

“And you’ll always have the counsel of your friends, if you need it,” Starlight said slowly.

Her friends. Twilight felt her heart lighten and straightened her posture. With her friends, she could do anything. They were her strength and had always been her salvation. “Thank you, Starlight,” she said, pulling her friend into a hug.

“Oh, so sorry! Didn’t mean to interrupt!” an erudite-sounding stallion said as he peeked his head into the Headmare’s office. “Just wanted to deliver my report on the proposed science curriculum.”

Starlight waved him forward. “Come in, come in!”

The nut-brown stallion carried a large notebook in an upturned hoof. It made a satisfying thump as it hit the table. Twilight felt a shiver of excitement pass down her spine and fought against the urge to make an approving comment. That was Starlight’s job now.

“Oh, thank you, Doc, that looks… extensive,” Starlight said.

The earth pony beamed at her. “Oh! Also, I thought I’d give you an update on our little side project.”

Starlight coughed suddenly, despite there being no dust in the immaculately clean office. “Mm. Yes. Perhaps later?” she suggested hurriedly. “I’ve… still got to see Princess Twilight off.”

“Ah. Very good, then.” The stallion bowed low to both mares. “A good day to you both.”

Twilight rounded on her friend the moment the stallion left. “What are you hiding?”

“Whaaaaat?” Starlight asked incredulously.

Twilight scowled.

“Okay, okay, if you must know, I’m keeping tabs on his little ‘time travel’ experiments.”

“His what now?” Twilight’s eyes widened. “He’s messing with time magic?”

“See, this is why ponies don’t tell you things,” the unicorn muttered. Starlight shook her head. “No, no, no,” she said at normal volume. “He’s an earth pony. He’s interested in time travel science. So far he’s just built a chair that will ‘move you forward in time’ at the same rate as normal time.” She cleared her throat. “Which is still totally too close to time travel for comfort. Off-limits. Which I told him. Of course.” Starlight blushed deeply. “He has a great mind for science, though, and I hired him to be our next science teacher, since you’ll be off doing Princess-y things. What better way to keep track of his little experiments? Shut them down if they get dangerous?”

Twilight could understand the reasoning, even if the outcome left a bad taste in her mouth. She decided to trust Starlight. Her friend had proven worthy of that trust, time and again.

“Rarity!” Twilight Sparkle greeted her friend warmly as the unicorn walked into the Royal map room. “You said you wanted to talk about the planning for the Festival of the Two Sisters?” The alicorn princess shook her head. “Let me guess, the carpenter guild strike has delayed construction plans for the stage? Ooh, or are you having problems getting the dragon delegation to agree to a seating arrangement? Or-“

Twilight fell silent as a hoof touched her shoulder gently. She looked down at her friend, who was smiling up at her. It was a sad smile, though, Twilight thought. “It’s all of those things, dear,” the unicorn said, “but ultimately none of those things either, I’m afraid.”

Twilight liked a riddle as much as the next pony. Okay, more than the next pony, she admitted to herself, but this one had her stumped. “I don’t understand,” she said.

“Twilight,” Rarity said, “Darling, I just don’t have the energy for it anymore. I’m not the unabashed youth I once was,” she said.

Twilight looked at her friend again. Really looked at her closely. There was gray in her mane, artfully lining the purple tresses. The purple that remained wasn’t as vibrant as it had once been, so many, many years ago. Rarity was too proud a mare to let any wrinkle grow unfashionably large, but there were crow’s feet around her eyes. Twilight felt a pang of guilt, a rough stone in her stomach. While her friends had grown older, she herself had merely grown regal, her alicorn magic preserving and enhancing her physical body. “Of course, Rarity,” Twilight said. “I’ll have Spike hire some new assistants for you! I know you’ve been a little short-hoofed recently, what with-“

“Twilight,” Rarity said, her elegant voice turning firm. The princess shut her mouth. “I don’t need new assistants. I need to retire.”

The shock of the pronouncement caused Twilight to ruffle her wings uneasily. “But… But, Rarity, you can’t!” The princess fought down a rising panic. “I rely on you for so much. Equestria relies on you! And you love the prestige and glamour and status that being one of the rulers of Equestria gives you! And-“

“Twilight.” Rarity shook the alicorn’s shoulder with a shaky hoof. “I do love being here to help you. And you’re right,” she said, a small blush coloring her cheeks, “I have very much enjoyed the status this role has given me.” She cleared her throat, “But Twilight! It’s past time you started thinking about the future. I… I won’t be here forever, you know.”

“Don’t say that,” Twilight pleaded, going down on her withers so she could be at eye-level with her dear friend.

“It’s true,” Rarity said bluntly. “I’m an old mare.”

Twilight shook her head, refusing to accept the simple truth. “Not old. Just dignified.”

Rarity laughed and brushed a hoof along her friend’s face. “Too kind by half, dear, but thank you.”

Twilight frowned and pulled the white unicorn into a tight hug. “I’m not ready to face things without one of my friends by my side! I’ll be losing one of the guiding leaders of Equestria!”

Rarity laughed lightly. “Where have I heard that before,” she asked, letting the rhetorical question hang in the air. “Ah, yes, when Princess Celestia and Princess Luna retired.”

“But that was different,” Twilight rebutted. “They were leaders, sure, but you’re my friend and confidant!”

Rarity made a very un-ladylike snort. “You have scores on scores of friends, dearest. Plenty of whom would be qualified to do exactly the job I do now. Some better qualified than me, even.”

Twilight shook her head, her flowing magical mane moving at the edge of her sight. “No one could replace you, Rarity.”

Rarity shook her head and stepped out of the hug. “Actually, I made a list of ponies who would be perfect.” Her horn lit and a long scroll appeared from her amythsyt-studded saddle bag.

Twilght swallowed down a sorrowful denial. “…I do love a good list.”

“Don’t I know it,” Rarity said, stepping forward and leaning her head up to kiss her friend lightly on the cheek.

A red-coated earth pony mare stepped into a shadowy room, the only light provided by a small holocube in standby mode near the ceiling. The space reminded the pony of a cave, even though she knew full-well she inside a castle. A rich, foreign smell of scales filled the air.

“Have you seen the princess around?” The mare called up to the hulking purple dragon laying atop an impossibly huge bed. The dragon’s scales glittered even in the gloom of the underground cave. He snorted, his head darting up and his eyes blinked open.

“Did you have to wake me so soon? I was napping,” the dragon moaned in a deep voice, “Twilight will be at the shrine today until the ceremony.” He huffed, a little puff of green flame spurting from his nostrils. He glanced down at the small pony underneath his enormous bed. “Which one are you? Gold Jonah?”

“Jonah was my dad!” the earth pony mare protested. “I’m not even a boy. I’m Honeycrisp, remember, Spike?”

The dragon bobbed his head slowly. One massive claw rubbed against his eyes before they refocused on the pony. “Of course. The new Councilor. Twilight introduced us last month, right? Anyway, I’m going back to sleep. Twilight will be at the Shrine of Remembrance until she makes the trip to wherever the Festival of the Two Sisters is being held this year. Where is it being held?” the dragon pondered aloud. “Fillydelphia, I think? I’ll need to take off in a few hours to be on time. Twilight will be angry if I’m not there.”

“Spike,” the pony whined, “what shrine? Twilight asked me to see her today, but she’s not in the Council chambers, and I can’t reach her on comms.”

“The Shrine of Remembrance, little one.” Spike nodded slowly, and his head drooped down to lay on the ground. His eyes were still at least a span above the pony’s head, but it was as close as he could get to eye level anymore. “The Shrine is in the Everfree forest, surrounding the Tree of Harmony. Twilight visits every year during the Summer Solstice.” Spike sighed loudly. “I don’t like going. I stopped going with her years ago—it’s just too hard…” He closed his eyes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to sleep until I make the trip in a few hours.”

Honeycrisp stepped out of the auto tram at the Everfree Forest Park stop. The tram stop was as close as transit would get her to the Shrine, according to the InfoNet. Her granny had told her that the Forest had once been a huge place, dangerous to ponies and mostly unsettled. But that had been before the road had been build. A great length of concrete now ran through the periphery of the forest, connecting Ponyville to New Coltsburg, and the Forest was cleared back on both sides of the road. Nothing scary about a road, she thought. Honeycrisp had never been to the Tree of Harmony, but a quick Info search told her there was a small path off the road that would take her there. As she left the tram stop, the trees blocked out the early morning sun, and strange sounds came from the underbrush. Honeycrisp held her head high, refusing to acknowledge the scary sounds. In a way, it was just like the sounds at Sweet Apple Acres. Except, she thought, that nothing made such a rasping sound on the farm.

Despite herself, she found herself trotting when she emerged into a large clearing. A low, dark grotto sank down into the hillside, and a large, beautiful tree stood at its back, its base nestled between two cliffs. The tree had buildings on it, almost like a tree house. As Honeycrisp approached, she realized the structures weren’t additions, but part of the Tree itself. She whistled. As a former farm-pony, finding a new kind of tree was an unexpected pleasure. The stone walls on each side of the tree were engraved with colorful and fanciful symbols. A large, winged purple mare stood beside the left cliff face, her horn tilted towards the closest symbol. Honeycrisp cantered forward quietly, not wanting to disturb her friend. As she drew close, the young mare gasped. “Are those—cutie marks?”

Princess Twilight turned slowly away from the wall, smiling and sweeping her wings down in a bow towards her friend. “They are indeed.” Honeycrisp glanced at the walls. There were hundreds, of all shapes and designs. They radiated out from the Tree of Harmony, spreading halfway across the grotto. When the young mare’s gaze returned to Twilight, the elder pony nodded to the cutie mark she had been studying before Honeycrisp’s approach. “These are my best friends. I come here every year to remember and honor them. For it was on the Summer Solstice, so many, many years ago that I made my first friends.”

Honeycrisp piped in. “Oh! The First Councilors!”

She recognized the marks now—the cutie marks of the Councilors, stretching back to days unknown to any except Princess Twilight. Those closest to the Tree represented the First Councilors, whose names were well known. There were the balloons of Pinkie Pie, and below them the diamonds of Rarity. And on the opposite wall were the marks of Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, and Honeycrisp’s great great great (she forgot how many greats) great aunt. Beyond the First Councilors, cutie marks of the subsequent Councilors filled the wall. There, a pace or two back, Honeycrisp recognized the golden scroll of Patience, the first male Councilor. Here and there, a symbol marked the place of non-pony Councilors: Honey thought she saw the falcon wings of Razorblur, one of the great griffon heroes of the Darkswell Riots and the first of his race to serve the Equestrian Council. And there, at the very end of the decorated symbols, was Honeycrisp’s own pink apple on a golden field.

“We’re all here?”

“Every single one of my closest friends,” Twilight agreed. “Would you like to meet some of them?” The princess smiled cryptically.

“I reckon I’ve read about them all a hundred times, Twilight. And you’re always telling us stories, too.”

“Yes,” the alicorn acknowledged, “but it’s different on Summer Solstice. The magic of this special day is strong enough to let me do…” the princess tilted her horn towards the trio of red apples, “this.” A pink web of magic swirled outward from the long horn and danced around the engraved apples. The color of the apples faded and twisted into an orange mist, which came to rest on the ground beside the princess. It quickly took shape as a stout orange earth pony mare with long, tussled blonde hair hidden in a well-worn brown hat.

“Twilight! It’s so good to see you, sugar cube!”

Twilight leaned forward and nuzzled her old friend. “And you as well. I’ve missed you, Applejack. I’ve got someone here for you to meet.” The princess nodded towards Honeycrisp. “This is your eight-great grand-niece Honeycrisp.”

The orange pony’s eyes shone with pride. “Still friends with the Apple clan, eh, Twilight?” She stared at the smaller red pony. “You keeping Sweet Apple Acres in good shape?”

Honeycrisp smiled. “Yes, ma’am. Well,” she admitted, “my cousin Candy does most of the work now that I’m a Councilor.” She grinned, “but you should see the size of some of the apples she harvested last year!”

Applejack smiled broadly. “I’m mighty proud, girl. You keep up the good work.” Her form shimmered, and suddenly Honeycrisp could see through her, straight to the grotto wall. “See you next year, Twilight?”

“Count on it, my good friend.” Applejack’s form faded completely, and the apples on the wall regained their color. Honeycrisp noticed a tenseness in the princess’s eye, as if Twilight were holding a deep well of emotion back with sustained effort.

“How is that possible?” She demanded. Applejack is-“

“Gone,” her princess answered sadly. “Passed beyond the rainbow bridge so many, many years back.” She touched a hoof to the cutie mark fondly. “I created this place so I could remember all my friends, even after they have left me.” Twilight closed her eyes. “This Shrine remembers the essence of those who have their cutie marks engraved here. It pulls from my memories and lets me see friends long gone. It’s a gift, even if it only lasts for a few moments, and only one day a year.”

Honeycrisp rushed forward and threw her hooves around Twilight’s neck. “That’s so sad,” she cried, fighting back tears.

“No,” her princess said quietly, “goodbyes are sad, but here can always say hello. Why don’t we say some more hellos before the festival?” Honeycrisp squeezed her friend tight and quickly agreed.

Honeycrisp was uncharacteristically quiet on the walk back. The Shrine tended to have that effect on ponies. As they approached the road, Twilight spotted a large purple shape winging its way into the sky, almost out of sight. “That lazy dragon! I asked him to depart first thing this morning so he could help us set up in Fillydelphia. Now he’s barely going to get there before the ceremony.”

“He was enjoying a good nap,” her young friend said, “and besides, I’m glad he was there. I don’t know that I could have found you this morning without his advice.”

“You could have called my comm,” Twilight said, wagging the tiny, mechanical device fixed to her upper left leg.

“You didn’t answer!” Honeycrisp protested.

“Ooh, I keep forgetting the forest has poor signal strength. Remind me to talk to Development about that.”

“Of course, Princess,” the younger mare said, nodding.

* * * * *

Almost from the moment Honeycrisp and Princess Twilight stepped back onto the auto tram station, the Princess’s comm began pinging. Honeycrisp grimaced at the racket, but her princess calmly turned her attention to the multitude of messages pouring onto her display. Honeycrisp’s own display remained blissfully silent. The earth pony supposed that in a few years, as she acclimated to her role and took on additional Councilor responsibilities, her comm would be similarly busy. She shuddered to imagine it.

For the time being, she plugged into the InfoNet and entered a query about the Tree of Harmony and the Shrine. There were the usual dry Info articles and some slanted gossip sites, neither of which held much appeal for the young pony. Her eyes lit up as she found a Vid showing the early days of the Shrine. Honeycrisp glanced up, double checking that Twilight didn’t need her before she dove in. Satisfied that the Princess could make do without her for a while, Honeycrisp tapped the Vid link with a hoof.

Honeycrisp’s vision went hazy for a fraction of a moment, the familiar disorientation from the ocular transition passing quickly.

Honeycrisp shook her head at the quality of the Vid. It was grainy and flat. It was old. She pulled the sidebar out and did a double take at the date stamp. This wasn’t just old. It was one the first thousand Vids uploaded to the InfoNet! Well, the mare thought to herself, as she adjusted the audio output, it certainly sounded like it.

“Thank you all for coming today,” a slender purple alicorn said, her voice tinny in the old audio format, “to help me honor one of my very best friends.” Honeycrisp sat back in shock, her head rebounding off the tram seat. That young alicorn was Twilight Sparkle! She looked so… well, young was likely the wrong word, but… younger! “Rarity,” Twilight said, her voice cracking with emotion, “you’ve meant so much to me. To all of Equestria. I will never forget your hard work and generosity. And now, all of Equestria will have a place to remember you, the First of my Councilors, as you pass your role to the next generation.” Twilight pulled the white unicorn beside her into a tight hug, and Honeycrisp had to choke back tears. On the Vid, several other ponies jumped forward, joining the hug. Honeycrisp quickly identified her eight-great aunt, and felt a strange pang of sorrow, seeing her there in the Vid, when she had just seen some magical version of her in real life. Honeycrisp gasped as she identified the blue pegasus pony at the top of the hug. The first Councilor of Loyalty! The earth pony felt a surge of pride. She hoped she was doing the pegasus proud in her role.

Younger Twilight was speaking again on the Vid: “…Starlight Glimmer, Headmare of the School of Friendship, to perform the dedication ceremony.”

A mauve unicorn stepped forward and nodded to somepony off-screen. The unicorn wove a spell to amplify her voice. “Thank you, Twilight.” She waved a hoof wide, and the scene shifted to reveal a brown-coated earth pony, who tapped a strange, glowing cylindrical device against the grotto wall. “Thank you, Doc,” the unicorn said, as the view shifted back to her. “This Shrine will be a place for future generations to come and remember the great deeds of Twilight Sparkle and her Friends.” Starlight waved Twilight over with a hoof, and the smaller unicorn lay a hoof across the shoulders of the taller alicorn. “This will be a special place, a place for you to remember the best part of your friends. You’ve always said your friends are the strongest parts of you, and over the years I’ve discovered that’s true for all of us.” The cutie mark on the grotto wall glowed behind the ponies.

“I’m not one for promises, usually, given my checkered past,” Starlight continued. Several ponies in the audience laughed, and Honeycrisp made a note to look up the unicorn after she was done with the video. Starlight turned to Twilight. “But I promise you this: here, in this special place, your friends will always be here when you need them most.” Honeycrisp paused the video, thinking about her own cutie mark on the wall of the grotto. Someday, she’d be a memory, too, she realized somberly, while her princess lived on. She hoped she would be worth remembering.

* * * * *

Twilight and Honeycrisp pushed their way into the Council Chambers. Six high-backed thrones sat in a circle. The back of each Councilor’s throne was decorated with a large version of their cutie mark.

The one nearest the entrance was a pair of crossed bandages. Cottonmane was still young, though not near so young as Honeycrisp. As Councilor of Compassion, he nearly always had a woodland animal with him. Today it was his pet hummingbird, who flitted restlessly from his master’s horn to withers and back again. The next seat was occupied by Silver Crown, an earth pony whose shimmering tiara cutie mark always seemed at odds with the threadbare scarf she always wore. Honeycrisp had only recently got to know Silver, but the young pony was always inspired by the older mare’s dedication and enthusiasm that marked her as the Councilor of Charity. After Twilight’s throne, there sat the Councilor of Joy. Cloud Dreamer’s pale white wings were folded about his body, and he sat staring into the distance. Honeycrisp had read about some of the Councilors that had previously held the seat, and Cloud Dreamer seemed very different. He had no ready laugh or a constant smile. He was kind, surely, and prone to moments where his intensity shone brightly, but there was something about his eyes that spoke of great sadness. Honeycrisp chided herself. If Twilight approved of him, there was certainly something there; she just wasn’t seeing it yet. Honeycrisp walked past the last Councilor towards her seat.

“Lovely to see you, Honeycrisp.” The mare’s velvety voice somehow matched the silky curves of lilac hair that crowned the mare’s brow. Verity had been a judge even before the unicorn had found Twilight’s favor as Councilor of Integrity—the perfectly balanced golden scales of her cutie mark seemed almost to shine in the light, and Honeycrisp wondered not for the first time if Verity actually used gold paint to highlight her mark.

Twilight Sparkle strode to the center of the chamber. “My friends.” She smiled broadly. “Are we all ready to go?”

“I haven’t been to Fillydelphia for ages,” Silver Crown said, easing herself down from her throne. “I’m so excited to go back for a visit.”

“Gather close, everypony,” their princess requested. “Hoof in hoof, please, as I’d rather not make a second trip.”

Honeycrisp reached out to touch Cloud Dreamer’s wing, and felt Verity place a hoof upon her back. Twilight stood half a hand taller than even Cottonmane, who was tall for a stallion. Honeyrcrisp forgot on occasion how tall the Princess was. She had just begun to ponder that when a wave of pink magic twisted the air around her, and, blinking, dissipated. She stood in the center of a great train station, her friends around her; ponies in the lower platforms milled about heading towards and away from the various trams and trains that bustled around the space.

Everypony knew that everypony dies. And nopony knew that like a thousand-year-old alicorn. Anypony with more than a few years of science education learned that the universe itself was destined to die in entropy, but Princess Twilight Sparkle would be damned if she would ever accept it. “Give me a place to stand, and a lever long enough, and I shall move the world” said the ancient pegasus scholar Archimedes. Moving the sun itself had become a trivial matter to the powerful alicorn. But Twilight believed more and more with each day that it would take more than ancient alicorn magic to solve this problem.

She read the report again. It said the same thing as it had two minutes prior: the same thing which had been suggested, but until this point unproven. She re-re-read the page. Despite her every urge and desire, the news remained the same.

The top-secret report from her Department of Science had been confirmed by both the Las Pegasus Astrological College and the Canterlot Observatory.

The Sun was dying.

Princess Twilight Sparkle shook her head. Scientists believed they had, at very most, another hundred years until the Light went out of the universe. The various conclusions as to why the star was losing power varied, but the end result was uncontested.

Equestria and all the nations across the world would fall to darkness, consumed by the void.

It had taken a decade of study and preparation, but the portal scanner was finally ready. The contraption took up almost an entire wall of the dungeon in which it had been built. Pipes and tubing linked the giant doorway with large data processors and optical scanners and various communications devices. Had it not been needed for such a dire purpose, Twilight would have been most pleased with its grandeur. Instead of joy, however, she felt dread as she approached the device. Twelve scientists hovered around the various components. They were the best and brightest in their various fields, hoof-chosen by Twilight and her Council to lead this experiment.

“Is it ready?” she asked, surveying the doorway. Her mind flicked back, for a distracted moment, to another doorway she had used a lifetime ago, and the strange form she had taken there. Would they see that world again today?

“We are prepared, majesty,” a mare in a white frock said, bowing low. “May we begin?”

Twilight nodded to the mare. “Please do. And may fate favor us this day,” she said.

A deep, thrumming sound filled the room as the capacitors charged. Electricity danced across the arc receptors lining the doorway. Heat suddenly filled the room. The hair in Twilight’s wavy mane suddenly stood on end, the ether in the room suddenly twisted, disrupting her magical coiffure.

A deep darkness, almost tangible in its depth, filled the doorway. And then light, searing and as bright as the sun itself, flashed across the portal’s surface. And then stars filled the display, and then faded. And then a world. A world so much like their own appeared. And a message was received. Twilight shook her head sadly and had her scientists adjust the science and magic of the portal to a new wavelength.

Again. Again and again and again, across all realities and all planes of existence, one message was broadcast, often in Twilight’s own voice: “Help. The sun is going out. Our world is dying.”

Princess Twilight sagged against a nearby wall. “Then this is truly it: The end of all things.”

Twilight made her way through the overgrown path, clearing the meddling vines and overgrown brush that had invaded the once well-kept path. It had been at least twenty years since she had made this trek. Her heart hurt at the thought—what once had been a nearly religious routine had become almost an afterthought, and then nearly forgotten altogether in the desperate race to save to sun—the sole responsibility of the last decades of her Princessdom.

A small burst of telekinesis cleared away a large bush that had grown directly in the dirt path.

The Treehouse of Harmony stood, tall and regal as ever, its branches glowing in the low light of the Everfree Forest. The walls of the grotto surrounding its base glistened in the magical glow of tens of thousands cutie marks.

Princess Twilight Sparkle, who had stood against more horrors than anypony could have ever imagined, who had faced down entire armies with only her horn, who had ruled over her nation for centuries, felt her voice tremble as she went down on her withers. “My friends,” she said, choking on grief, “I’ve neglected visiting you for far too long.” Tears fell from her eyes as the ancient alicorn began to sob silently. “I miss you. I… need you now, more than I ever have.”

As her tears fell to the ground, they evaporated in a strange, ethereal swirl of magic. An eerie, otherworldly sound emanated from the Treehouse, the noise suddenly filling the air. It sounded almost like a heavy machine sighing repeatedly.

The large front door of the treehouse swung outward.

“Okay, okay,” a lavender unicorn said, her front hooves raised defensively as she stepped out into the grotto. “I know time travel magic is dangerous, and we’ve talked about it ad nauseum. But I thought a little detection spell, woven into a timelocked emotional seeker, combined with time travel science wouldn’t really be breaking the rules of—” The unicorn stopped when she finally saw Twilight Sparkle on the ground. “Whoa. Twilight! How… how long has it been?”

Twilight gaped, struck dumb by the appearance of her first pupil. “Starlight Glimmer?”

“Wow!” the unicorn said, her gaze turning to the walls of cutie marks. “When I helped you set this place up, I never thought you’d fill every bit of space on these walls!”

Twilight Sparkle lit her horn and grabbed the unicorn in a tight grip. The princess’s magic dragged Starlight Glimmer towards her until she could wrap her long legs around her old friend. She hugged her tightly. The minty smell of Starlight’s mane unleashed a torrent of scent memories for Twilight, her mind transported back a millennium: hugging her pupil after the final changeling invasion; late night planning sessions over tea before Starlight became headmare, before Twilight herself ascended to the throne; holding a grieving Starlight at her wife’s funereal. But Starlight had been old and gray-maned then… “You’re real?” Twilight asked, “You’re really here?” She pulled her away, her mind catching up to the unicorn’s ramblings. “Wait, time travel?” That explained some things.

Starlight laughed nervously. “Yeah… you remember that stallion I hired as science teacher? Well… I know it goes against what we talked about, but it turns out that with a few suggestions from my… experience… with time travel, he was able to make some pretty startling breakthroughs…” She cleared her throat. “And I thought… maybe I could be there one more time when you needed it most.”

Twilight felt fresh tears fill her eyes. Bless the skies, so many tears today. “Even with your help, though, there’s nothing to be done. We could employ all the magic of all the unicorns in Equestria, and nothing would change. All my research shows the same thing. The world ends here.”

Starlight’s eyes went wide before her face relaxed back to a friendly, slightly amused look. “My dearest, noblest, brightest teacher,” Starlight said gently. “The centuries have been tough on you, I’m sure.” She brushed the side of Twilight’s muzzle with a hooftip. “You once reminded me of the power of hope when I had nearly destroyed the world in frustration. Allow me to return the favor by bringing your attention to this one fact, something you said to me once: My little pony, friendship is magic.”

The wheezing, gasping, mechanical sound filled the air again.

“What is that sound?” Twilight Sparkle asked.

“The sound of hope,” Starlight Glimmer explained cryptically, a small smile on her lips. “The sound of an old friend fulfilling one last promise.”

In the middle of the field, a large muffin-shaped object materialized out of thin air. The shape shimmered and slowly became solid.

Along its base, a seam split open, revealing a door. A nut-brown earth pony wearing a long scarf looped around his neck stepped from the interior. His eyes quickly found Princess Twilight. “Doctor Whooves,” Starlight said in introduction.

“I’ve done what I can, Princess,” the stallion said, inclining his head respectfully.

A burst of confetti exploded out of the muffin’s door, covering the earth pony in glittering paper.

“SUR-PRISE!” a jubilant voice yelled. Five beautiful mares piled out of the door. One pink, one yellow, one blue, one white, and one orange. Her friends. Her first friends.

Despite everything, despite facing the world’s end, nothing had yet broken Princess Twilight Sparkle’s resolve. But the sight of her oldest friends—fresh-faced, young, and so, so alive—brought her to shuddering, helpless tears. Years, decades, centuries fell away from her mind, until she felt like a filly again. She was transported to a time when Ponyville had nothing bigger to worry about than a parasprite invasion or a Winter Wrap Up snafu.

“Twilight!” The sweet, familiar drawl of her dear friend brought her back to fillyhood days. “Lands sakes, look at you! You look like Princess Celestia! Well, a purple Celestia.”

“Oh, hush, dear,” the alabaster unicorn said, “you know purple is in this year.” She paused, looking confused. “Well, the year where we were. Oh dear.”

“Ha!” the blue mare cried, swooping around the princess, “you look awesome! Even for an old mare.”

“She’s not old,” a quiet voice protested, “she’s dignified!” The yellow pony bowed low. “Just like a princess should be.”

“Oh, please,” Twilight protested as she wiped tears from her face. She pulled the mare upright, “please don’t start the bowing again!”

“Ohmygosh! Future Twilight! You have to tell all about what Rainbow Dash is getting me for Hearthswarming this year!”

Despite her recent tears, despite her fears, despite the crushing weight of the world on the edge of collapse, Twilight laughed. Ponies said you could never go home again, but home, in the form of the best, first friends she had ever made, had somehow found her. It was a moment of joy that Twilight savored, holding onto the jubilant excitement of reunion for as long as she could.

After a long, desperate hug with her old friends, the princess turned back to the brown stallion. He stood just outside his magical muffin, and two mares—one a pale yellow and the other a light gray—stepped out to join him. “I’ve done all I can. It was difficult enough getting here, and I don’t think I can make any additional trips. I’ll be lucky to get everypony back at this rate.”

Twilight looked as her oldest friends surrounded her—pulled out of time, away from their lives in Twilight’s past. Maybe their shared love and devotion and dedication would be enough to reignite the sun and save the world from destruction. But likely not. If it had been, all her prior attempts were her current Councilor friends would have succeeded.

“I thank you, Doctor.” Starlight said, smiling softly, “You’ve done enough. For now. But if I’m right about you…”

A wheezing, magical sound filled the meadow where her friends stood. Between his two companions, Doctor Whooves gaped openly. “This is madness!”

A second huge, mechanical Muffin materialized some few spans from the first. A lanky stallion with a peculiar conical hat leaned out the door. “I do hope I’m not late. I have a few friends here who would hate to miss the party!” He swung the door wide, and Honeycrisp darted forward, throwing her hooves around Twilight’s neck. Cottonmane, Verity, and Silver Crown trotted out, their heads held high. Cloud Dreamer came forth last with a laugh. “Not done with us, eh, Princess?”

“Never,” Twilight said, fresh tears springing to her eyes.

A third Muffin appeared, an elderly stallion shooing his passengers out with an admonishment not to be late in returning. A fourth and fifth box appeared, and soon the only sound a pony could hear was the magical, otherworldly groan of Muffins materializing. Hundreds of ponies, and nearly as many hippogriffs, zebras, griffons, yaks, changelings, dragons, and abyssinians poured forth, racing to meet their fellow past and future Councilors. More than a thousand years of friends filled the grotto, and the cutie marks along the walls glowed, light bursting forth from each design until the entire area was filled with a beautiful rainbow light. Pegasi and griffons soared through the air, yaks fawned over their ancestral Councilors, and after a moment, a great many creatures began a chorus of traditional Hearthwarming songs. It was the most beautiful thing Twilight Sparkle had ever experienced: A wondrous union of kind, honest, generous, joyful, loyal beings from throughout her life, the best creatures she had ever known, bathed in the otherworldly rainbow light of the Tree of Harmony and their engraved cutie marks. It was true magic.

It was at that moment that the sky went dark. Stars shone in the mid-day sky as the sun faded from blinding white to nothingness in a mere moment. Creatures gasped and screamed, and Twilight’s legs buckled beneath her in dread.

As the very air around them began to cool, the purple alicorn shook her head, disbelief and fear filling her very soul. It had happened. This was the end of all things. No light would ever grace the world again.

And yet…

And yet the cutie marks around them glowed, their rainbow light reflecting worried but determined faces. Thousands of the best, most beautiful faces the alicorn had ever known.

“No,” Princess Twilight Sparkle said, a sureness and certainty present in her voice. She rose back to her hooves. She shook her head and wove a simple amplified spell so her voice would carry through the grotto. “No. Nothing ever truly ends unless we let it,” Twilight said. “I have fought nearly my entire life to keep this world and its inhabitants safe. But it was never about my power. Or power at all. It has always been about my friends, and the connections we have made.” The rainbow light from the walls of the grotto began to pulse with each word she spoke. “We are the world, and the sun, and the moon, and the stars. We are the cosmos itself, my friends, given shape, and we do not end this day.” The princess lit her horn. Her oldest friends gathered around her in a tight hug. Thousands of creatures joined hoof and claw or wing or paw. Twilight looked around. She knew them all by name and temperament. Knew their laughs and their tears and the complete, undeniable strength of their friendship.

“Do you know you’re all my very best friends?”

The coruscating magic of Friendship roared across the gathering, focused into one tight spiral around Twilight Sparkle’s horn. It burned with a terrifying intensity, the power around her greater than she had ever known.

Greater, she realized, than she could contain.

The rainbow magic spread, a burst of love expanding across the globe. Friendship magic lit the entire world for one brief moment, a moment that dragged into limitless eternity. And as eternity lapsed, Twilight Sparkle cried out as the magic tore from her horn and spiked out towards the sun.

Darkness fell. Pitch black shadows draped across the grotto and across the world.

Then the Sun burst into Light. Shadows fled the coming Light, and blessed warmth filled the air again.

* * * * *

Twilight was weightless. She hovered in the air among her friends. She no longer felt the aches in her back from carrying her massive wings. Or the pressure on her hooves from supporting her huge body.

The body that was below her on the ground. The huge, purple alicorn lay quietly, her eyes closed as if in sleep, her horn sizzling with a rainbow aura.

It was her time to go.

Funny, Twilight thought to herself, she always thought she’d be more worried about this moment. But instead she found herself at peace. “My friends,” she said, surveying the crowded grotto. Every eye turned towards her disembodied spirit. “We saved the world.”

“Twilight!” the alicorn heard Pinkie Pie sob. “But you…! you’re…!”

“Alive in your heart,” Twilight said, “as you have been alive in mine for millennia.” She smiled, and a beautiful, calm feeling filled her. “I meant what I said earlier. Nothing ever ends, so long as we remember and cherish the memory of it.” She felt a calm tugging at her spirit. “Our adventure is over,” she said, “but our story never ends.”

Author's Note

I love you. It's worth saying, and it sounds so sappy and corny, but I do. I love that we've created a community about kind, silly little cartoon horses as a way to share our feelings and validate one another.

I wish the MLP ride would go on forever and ever and ever. But all good things come to an end. But this end does not have to be the end, so long as we keep the lessons we have learned, the love we have shared, and the friendships we have made close to our hearts.

My Little Pony will live forever in my heart and mind. And I hope in yours, too.

Thank you, my friends.