The Fire’s last Ember

by TikiBat

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Death, Alternate Universe, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Bat Pony
Length: 2717

Could you imagine living forever, to live out a life that you thought would never end, only to learn that indeed there is an end?

Could you imagine living forever, living out a life that you thought would never end, only to learn that indeed there is an end? Maybe it'd be a curse... or a paradise? To me it's been a mix of both, though I like to think it's all been good. After living so long it's hard to imagine what kind of things would you regret when you reach the end of the line. Would you be satisfied with a life well lived, or would you think back to the things you've taken for granted-- your life's solitary regrets?

I personally never thought I'd have to answer that question, but here I stand at the brink of that final breath... My thoughts filling with the many memories I've made over the years.

So, would you care to join me around the fire? Maybe listen to a tale or two from an old thestral? The fire'll be dying out soon and I'd hate to leave you in the dark all alone.

This is just a smaller disconnected one shot that touches on a character in an important moment in their life, with hints of stories that might be told in the future.

Published 2020-05-14 03:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-05-14 03:40:01 UTC

Campfire Tales

Some say that you can tell when your time is up, that it’s just something you can feel when you reach the end of your journey. I used to think that was just superstitious nonsense, maybe the strange panicked reaction of your last thoughts firing off as you expired… but maybe that’s because I never expected to reach that point in my own life. I’ve lived nearly three thousand years after all, but as my life’s stretched out, so has my magic.

To tell you the truth, I didn’t notice that my magic had started to fade at first. Life continued as normal and then one day it started to slowly flicker in and out, until it became ever more common. With that came the aches and pains of age, hitting me faster than anything I could recollect in my long existence. It gave me a feeling of dread, knowing that I could very well be on the verge of the end. We all have our regrets in life, though mine might seem a bit silly when said aloud. You see, in all my years, in all my magically extended life, I’ve never actually had any sort of long lasting relationship or kin, leaving me with no heirs to share my story with.

Laugh if you must, because surely a pony who’s lived for three millennia would have far greater regrets than the inability to share their story with their kin. But you see, stories hold a special place in my heart. I’ve collected millions, even billions of objects and artifacts over the ages, and to me, the true value has always been the story they tell— the tales and legends that they carry that were passed from pony to pony, changing and twisting over the years and many hooves they were passed through.

As much as I thought I’d never reach this point, the aches keep getting worse, and I fear that within a few days my story will come to an end. But that’s what we’re here for tonight, to share a story around the fire so that maybe someone else can carry on my legacy. I couldn’t tell you the whole story, that would take hundreds of years to even scratch the surface of what I’ve seen, but perhaps I can share some highlights— brief moments in my life that made me who I am today.

I guess we can start at the beginning. My name is Mystic Ember, and I was born in a town called Hollow Shades, a dark and gloomy place, but one that was always warm and welcoming to me. It was a place home to many thestrals, including the parents who raised me. Though the town has long been laid to ruin, the memories of it still burn brightly in my head, reminding me of the home I once lived in. As much as I loved that place it just never felt satisfying enough, you see, I’ve always been an adventurous pony, running from place to place in search of trinkets and treasures— anything that tells a story really. I started small in my youth, chasing local legends, hunting down lost treasures, and in time I grew to yearn for far greater things than I think I even knew at the time.

My father fostered this kind of behavior, he was always the kind of pony that believed that one should follow their dreams even if it meant going out of your way to do it. He taught me to fish, to hunt, to make a fire— skills that he hoped I could practically use. That was his whole philosophy. In his eyes everything could be a learning opportunity, and well, it definitely rubbed off on me. My mother never fully approved of his methods, seeing it as giving me too much blind optimism, but in the end she grew to accept my chosen path in life, even if it was begrudgingly.

It wasn’t much longer after my formative years of young adulthood that I met her, a pony with an adventurous spirit that could rival my own, one of the only ponies who I could say I held dear to my heart over the eons, Daring Do. She was cunning and cocky, and knew how to get things done, the perfect rival. At least that’s how we started. I’d chase down a legend only to find her sitting atop some ancient temple, sometimes it’d be the opposite. This routine went on for years and years and years until we started to become more than just casual rivals. I can’t say that we were ever passionate lovers, but there was definitely a flame burning within both of us, and for a few years we continued our adventures, but this time as partners rather than enemies.

That’s around the time that I was cursed with my immortality, though I’d say it was more of a blessing than anything else. It’s a long story, and I’m afraid that bits and pieces of it have faded from my memory over the years, but I still remember the day my life changed seemingly forever. We were running through a lost temple as usual, and me being the cocky pony I was, decided not to do things the smart way. In my haste to beat Daring to the amulet of the lost gods, I came in contact with that cursed amulet, an amulet that unknowingly bestowed the gift of eternal life upon me, tethering my soul to the realm of the living, ensuring that I’d persist well past my natural lifespan.

That was when I learned how much someone could mean to you. I didn’t immediately notice the changes, not for many years. No, it wasn’t until the cruel dance of time started to creep up on Daring that I noticed something unusual was taking place within me. While she aged over the years, I stayed the same, never really changing, never growing old. Sure my hair’s grayed, but up until recently I retained the youthful glow that I’ve always had. We both knew at that point that the amulet must have been to blame, that was part of the legend that we both scoffed at, and just assumed was simply that— a legend passed down throughout the ages.

That was the day I became a believer in legends, realizing that they could hold more truth than it might seem. Daring had kept that amulet in a secure case for all those years and on that night we finally decided to actually read into the legends. They were true, it turns out, and in an almost twist of irony we learned that the answer we had been seeking for all those years had been right in front of us for the better part of thirteen years.

Surprisingly enough we weren't as worried about what this meant, even knowing that we’d be separated even beyond the afterlife. To us it meant that one of our greatest adventures had finally come to a close, and Daring was overjoyed. I still had some lingering regrets however, because even though we weren’t the most passionate of lovers, I still valued her friendship more than any other and the thought of losing her was devastating to me. Between these revelations we grew distant over time, still staying close, but going our own ways in life. I found that in time she had raised a son, and in turn that son had raised a son of his own, who was close to her. Despite the fact that we were apart for so long she still meant the world to me and the thought of living long beyond her life frightened me.

Eventually the day I dreaded did come, and I was by her side the whole time, reminiscing about all of our great adventures that we embarked on. The amulet that cursed me with my long life was left to her heir. Many years passed and in that time I grew distant and cold, burying myself in my work and studies, and that is where my life’s work really began. I moved from the Hollows to Canterlot and opened a shop of my own, selling and displaying some of the artifacts I had collected in my journeys, deciding that sharing their stories would be my new purpose in life. Even with all the distance I put between my old life and my new, the grandson that was so close to Daring still managed to find a way into my life.

He didn’t know my connection to her at the time, but he had heard of my reputation as a purveyor of strange and fascinating artifacts. It was he who had inherited that amulet, and much to my surprise and amusement, he was interested in learning more about it. So I sat him down and told him the tale, leaving out some of the more personal details of the adventures we embarked on, but he appreciated it all the same, and on that day I found a kinship that I had desired for all this time, though I never truly felt as if I could foster the kind of relationship that he had with daring. I had never had children of my own, let alone grandchildren, so to me it was hard to fill that role that Daring had filled in his life. Not to say I didn’t try though.

Atlas was never an adventurous type, but there was a time when we did have a chance to unwittingly embark on our own big adventure, chasing down another lost mystery from Daring’s past, and completing one of her great adventures that had been abandoned during our youth. It was something that reinvigorated that adventurous spark within me, and for a while I resumed my journeys with her grandson by my side, occasionally embarking on the odd adventure until he too eventually passed. He left a legacy of his own, married and had a couple kids, one of which spent a fair amount of time with me, learning about his family’s past.

It must have been after four or five more generations where I finally reached a point where I knew that I had to reinvent myself to keep questions about my long life to a minimum. The family had guarded that secret for generations, but I knew it couldn’t last forever. Ponies are social creatures and the secret behind immortality was something I intended to guard for all eternity. I couldn’t physically change my looks, at least not significantly, but I could move from place to place, hide in the shadows— that sort of stuff.

So I packed up my collection, moving it to a newly built museum in the outskirts of Equestria, and for many years I’d stay there, seldom accepting visitors and, occasionally jumping from city to city under an assumed name, staying only long enough to exist as a brief flash in other ponies’ lives. By that point I had no strong ties to any place or anyone, which was crushingly lonely at times, though I knew it was better than the alternative of someone trying to harness the magic from the amulet that kept me alive.

In time I disappeared from the public eye, my small connection back to a proper family growing increasingly distant, to the point that even now I don’t know if that line still continues. It’s a sad thought, but not as sad as the thought of growing close to another only to outlive them by an incomprehensibly long time.

As the decades turned to centuries turned to millennia I’ve seen the world change, sometimes for good, sometimes for bad. In all of this change I’ve always noticed a recurring theme, of ponies rising above the bad to meet the challenge, to make the world a harmonious place free of fear and evil, but evil never rests. I’ve seen the world almost end so many countless times, and I’ve seen even more heroes rise to the challenge, and it’s always served to reignite that spark of optimism within me, keeping me moving forward even knowing that I was always doomed to be an outlying observer in the world.

But that’s never bothered me much until recently. As I mentioned before, I never thought that I’d reach this point, and now that I have I can’t help but think of all the small things I’ve taken for granted— the things like walking on the beach and watching the sunset, things like raising foals of my own, hell, even small things like sitting back and enjoying a meal at a nice cafe every once in a while. My greatest irony is that in my entire life I’ve had all the time in the world to do these things, but I chose not to, and now I can’t help but feel as if I’ve taken that curse turned blessing for granted.

Even the thought of compiling my life’s story never came to mind until it was too late. The cruel dance of time has started to enact its own effect on my life, and as the days seem to grow shorter so does my memory of all the wonderful things I’ve experienced. Even now I can only remember a handful of memories, memories that are the strongest to me— memories that I fear will fade soon. I can’t get choked up about this though, after all, I’ve had a life well lived, and after a long journey I can finally lay down and rest, and perhaps even be reunited with the many ponies I’ve loved who have long passed. What many might fear I embrace with open arms, because after all this time I’m ready to finally see what lays further beyond, the great unknown adventure that I can finally embark on.

Long ago Daring had told me that no one knows what lies beyond the veil of death, and that you might as well enjoy the life you have while you still can. I suspect that’s what drove her to go on her many adventures, and I can say with confidence that her words reign true in my heart, because despite my few regrets in life, I still feel as if my life has been well lived, and even though she’s long passed, I still cherish her memory as if she were around today, joining me on yet another adventure.

So here we are, at the end of my tale, my life and energy finally fading into nothing. I know these are just the ramblings of an old eternal who’s end is finally nigh, but I still appreciate that you’d gather here to listen to it. I wish I could offer more than just a haphazard collection of memories and a warm fire, but it’s the stories we tell that hold the real value in our lives. Regardless of what you believe, what you know— how you view the world… the tales we share, the stories we tell— they’re the true magic in this world, and I hope you’ll share your own in time, even if it’s just to a passerby on the street. So thank you again, for listening to the fading memories of an old stallion.

As I lay here, my eyes grow heavy, though my heart soars with happiness knowing that at least I was able to pass on my legacy to another. I can sense the hold of death creeping towards me, though I don’t feel fear. For the first time in a long time… I finally feel at peace…

A warmth unlike that I’ve ever felt before envelops me, pulling up feelings of a love once lost that perhaps I’ll rekindle in some world beyond…

Author's Note

This isn't my standard fare story, but the idea of an immortal finally reaching the end of their natural life and musing on the small regrets they might have came to me one night and I thought it'd at least work as an interesting introduction to this character that we'll maybe see more of in the future. I hope you enjoyed it, and who knows, maybe we'll get to experience some of the stories Mystic Ember shared, someday...