The first sign that something was wrong was when the doctor checked Celestia’s eyes twice—the device strapped to her horn emitting a sickly green sheen. Quite disconcerting, if she was being honest with herself but her visage remained an unwavering beacon of motherly kindness, with perhaps, an inkling of self-serving mendacity mixed in.
Strange, she had thought, but paid it no mind—or at least, she tried not to. She had been having these checkups for years now—ever since the advent of modern medicine, it seemed. Without failure, they had done the same thing every single time. Routine, established on the annual, never failed to follow the same monotonous train of dull tests and questioning:
- Cardiovascular
- Pulmonary
- Neurological
- Extremities
- Magical
Extra: Daily cake consumption
She always passed with flying colors (however steeped in nuance the last questions tended to be; so what if she ate two extra slices of cake?).
Never once had they checked her eyes a second time and never had the light shone green like that.
“Please blink twice for me, Princess.” She complied and the doctor paused to scribble something hastily on a notepad suspended in blue-toned magic to his right.
One of the many perks of being an alicorn was the general lack of health impediments, courtesy of an earth pony’s endurance, a pegasi’s stubbornness, and the magical protection of a unicorn all rolled into one. She was healthy. She had always been healthy. In fact, she could hardly recall what it meant to be ill.
The second sign was when the doctor retreated along with the nurse into the backroom, speaking in hushed tones all the while. Strange, she had thought again, but she held hope to the notion of her uncompromised health. Naivety was not her strong suit, but what could be wrong, she continued to think.That was a question, nay, the question that bounced to and fro within her head, receiving not a single answer. Perhaps the doctor would tell her? It normally didn’t take this long.
Like a virus, nervousness cast its net upon her, wider and wider as she fixed her gaze on the constantly turning head of the doctor as he glanced at her through the window, and then back to his clipboard, and then back to her. Again. And again. And again.
“I apologize, Princess,” he said when he finally came back into the room. “I think we need to run some more tests.”
She treated him with an off-hoof nicety and a polite nod, but her heart wasn’t in it. Technical details, she would think, and her mind would agree with it. It had to be. That’s why they were running more tests, right? Because the machine had messed up. The magic was done wrong. Yes. That’s why. They had finally allowed a less experienced doctor to work with her.
And it’s about time, she thought with a giggle, though it didn’t quite hide the undertone of nervousness.
Celestia remained as still as she could as the doctor attached a menagerie of wires to her horn and forehead, the nurse sliding a small ringed mechanism to its base, just under the previous one, shutting it with a clack andencapsulating her horn with technology.
“My, my...this is new,” she said, giving a forced smile. The doctor smiled back, but it faded faster than it came. “Pulling out all the stops for this one, aren’t we?”
The doctor gave some twisted facsimile of a grin, before lending her the age old: “This won’t hurt one bit.”
And it didn’t, surprisingly. It was but a small comfort, easing her apprehension just enough to allow a quaint little smile to sneak onto her face.
Barely a few minutes later and it was over, the doctor and nurse unhooked her from the machine. They did the same dance, retreating to the back to look at her constantly, looking away when they met her eyes.
How tiring, but at least it added some spice to the normally boring procedures—however juvenile in taste that might have been of her. What if she had some sort of magical disease? Maybe she was going blind?
Wouldn’t that just be amazing, and she nearly giggled to herself at the thought.
Soon, the doctor was back, his eyes containing a strange glint, his voice, a pitch too high. “Will you come with me, please?”
Celestia was far too experienced to let her calm visage slip for more than a couple of heartbeats. She regally lowered herself from the examination bed, keeping decorum perfectly, but now she knew something was truly wrong, and she screamed questions inwardly. Until she heard a flurry of wing beats coming through a nearby window.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she felt a presence settle on her withers—an almost burning one. A quick glance back revealed a most unexpected sight; her pet and companion, Philomena, perched on her back. A “Squack,” was the extent of Philomena’s dialogue with Celestia, but the Phoenix possessed an authoritative, almost comforting aura that spread through her like the warmth of a hearth.
Her mind was silent as she trailed behind the doctor, who, for his part, only looked back at her thrice before they arrived at their destination. Pushing the door open, the doctor led her in and gestured at a lone seat in the corner, where she slowly sat down.
The doctor left again, not bothering to explain, and Celestia was once again left with her thoughts, a million questions, and Philomena. The phoenix briefly cuddled against her neck, then resumed her fiery vigil, warming the room considerably.
The door opened, and Luna walked in looking tired.
“Sister?” she groaned. “What’s this about? Is Philomena sick again?”
“Not to my knowledge… I was doing my yearly checkup.”
“It is that time of the year again? Time goes by so fast these days...” Luna trailed off, her eyes calculating, perhaps wondering what events she might have missed—but, Celestia was no mind reader, however much she wished she was, so she could only guess. Her sister could be so stoic sometimes.
And then, the doctor was by Celestia’s side again, somehow slipping through the door without a sound.
“So, uh, how are you feeling right now?” the doctor queried, practically in a plaintive whisper compared to the false congeniality he had been using previously. Celestia tried to exude calmness and congeniality.
“I’m fine, thank you for asking.” Celestia shot him a tiny smile.
“So, to be as straight-forward as possible, how do you want me to handle this topic? Do you want me to lay it all out, or do you want to take it slow?”
Luna’s face went through a subtle storm of emotion at this, from worry and anxiety, to something else Celestia couldn’t identify, but in the end, it settled on that stoicism she was so used to seeing. There was definitely bad news on the way. Philomena didn’t react, but she rarely did in conversation. Had she known?
“Yes, of course.” Celestia replied, “Just lay everything out.” Clipped, straight to the point, just as the doctor had been.
“Well, I’m sorry to say that you have a…tumor growing at the base of your horn. It’s begun to press against your brain.”
Those who didn’t know luna would see no change in expression at all, but Celestia could tell she was shocked. Her eyes locked in forward position, staring into the distance. As for herself, Celestia felt empty. She waited for the chill of realization to set in, but there was nothing. Actually, not nothing. She felt warm. Hot, almost. Then, her vision was invaded with flames and majesty.
With her wings spread to their maximum extent, Philomena hovered before her with practiced control, flaming eyes boring into her own with fierce intensity. Celestia blinked reflexively, and then the warmth seemed to boil into her skin as the Phoenix departed through an open window to her left.
And then she was cold. Colder than she had ever been in her life—almost akin to that fateful night one-thousand years prior when she had banished her sister to the moon. Something else began to boil within her core though, almost an amalgamation of all the emotion she should have been feeling, and Luna turned to her sister in shock as it came out as an appalling giggle.
I’m dying. And then she asked, “Well, that certainly doesn’t sound good. I presume it is…terminal?”
“We can’t be sure of that.” Dolorous eyes met Celestia’s and she knew he was lying. Hadn’t they just agreed to be completely straightforward? It’s what she should’ve expected, given his status as a new doctor.
“We’ll do some research into new treatments, but so far options seem limited,” he continued. “I’m sure the prin- I mean the other princesses will have some ideas. In any case, you’ll have access to the best treatments available.”
The giggle came out again. She took a moment to compose herself and ponder before she replied.
“Well, fortunately, one of those Princesses just so happens to be in this room as we speak! Luna, what say you? Any ideas rattling around up there?”
Luna looked as though she was being dragged along the bottom of a river with no chance to catch a breath. Sparing a glance at Celestia, she responded:
“Yes, of course we will do everything we can. Between the four of us we hold considerable power, so we will be able to find a solution.”
Luna paused, and Celestia interjected with a thought.
“...The species Twilight was able to make contact with recently—It had some remarkable artifacts… Perhaps they would have a solution to the problem. What were they called, sister? Humanes? Humares?”
“Hoomans, sister.”
Jason flipped open the file that was placed on his desk.
“...What the hell is this? A relocation? Kate, I was just assigned a new patient!”
Kate leaned over to get a better look at the file.
“Celestia? What kind of name is that?”
“I don’t know, you tell me. What’s this all about?” Jason eyed the file dubiously.
“Exactly what the file says, I’d guess: You’re being reassigned.” Kate smirked and continued. “I don’t choose who goes where, I just pass these things out.”
Jason shot her a faux-baleful stare. “Yeah? Wonder why we needed to hire someone to do that?”
“So you don’t have to walk over and get it yourself.” Kate playfully tapped his chest. “It’s called being a secretary.” Winking at him, Kate turned around and sauntered away from his desk.
With a roll of his eyes, Jason slowly shook head and smiled before turning his attention back to the folder in his hands. The ink was thick, almost like it had been written with a permanent marker. Jason noted to himself that something about the handwriting was off. It was formal and well composed in it’s own right, but it looked different, as if it wasn’t written by hand at all.
Name: Celestia
Medical Conditions:
Terminal Brain tumor
Age: N/A
Phone number: N/A
Weight: “Average”
Notes: Take extra care treat her as you would any other patient.
Jason nodded with a sort of half-grimace, half-grin before reading the file once more. “They’ve gotta be messing with me,” he muttered to himself, flipping the corner of the paper back and forth as he tended to do. There was an address at the bottom.
Sighing, he closed the file and tucked in under his left arm as he stood at his desk. He considered loitering about for a bit at the desk of a fellow coworker—socializing, as some liked to call it, but thought better of it. Best just get this out of the way, he thought.
Nodding to himself, his feet dragged him through the veritable shanty-town that was the office. It was almost empty, given that most of a hospice worker’s time was spent with their patients, but it still carried that distinct musk of human habitation. Striding out the exit, he zeroed in on his car, his hand already fishing in his pocket for the key.
A 2007 Toyota Camry—grey, all around reliable, and with decent mileage. The clear-coat was beginning to wear away from lack of upkeep, but the sedan had served him quite well, and showed no signs it would stop anytime soon.
The interior of his trusty runabout was nothing less than absolute blazing heat, the noon-day sun making sure he felt it’s wrath. The faux-leather of the car’s upholstery scorched his hands, the simple fabric of his seat transferred it’s warmth to Jason’s back, and he could already feel his shirt becoming damp with sweat. Silencing the chirping of his phone—a cold call most likely, as he looked at the foreign number, he quickly glanced at the contents of the file once more before keying in the address assigned to the patient. Patiently Jason waited, as his phone processed the request, adjusting several times before it gave him a rough estimate of his arrival time.
He sighed, glancing in his mirror and sweeping his unkempt hair into something half-decent, before sticking the key in the ignition and twisting. The A/C unit kicked in on full blast, wafting piping hot air right into his face for several painful seconds, before gracing him with sweet, cool, refreshing air. Dropping the E-brake, Jason pulled away from his parking spot, hitching the main road as his robotic navigator directed him to his destination.
The address led him to quite a large manse, overgrown with vines and hiding behind an ornate front lawn. A pathway made of fractured tiles led from the front gate to the front door, while intersecting the center was a plaza of sorts, sheltered by a small gazebo.
Jason couldn’t help but admire the fine work of the gazebo, moving from one column to the next around the edge. Each pillar had spirals of rearing horses winding around the sides, each supporting the next on it’s forehooves, and unlike the rest of the property, this seemed pristine and well-maintained. In the center of the floor was a mosaic of two more horses, their hooves extended upwards and joining at the peak of an arch.
Almost like a high-five, Jason thought, chuckling to himself at his own joke. He continued on to the front door and knocked.
Silence.
Jason knocked again, harder and more deliberately. The sound seemed to echo around the garden, but nobody came to the door. Jason took another look at the address on the paper. Had the GPS led him astray? Waiting for a moment longer, he shrugged his shoulders and started making his way back through the gazebo, before he heard it behind him. The sound of a door opening.
He turned around, and all those internal alarms you hope you never feel, started going off.
The door had opened on its own.
“...Hello?” His response to the event seemed less than adequate but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Truthfully, his instincts told him that just walking away, hopping in his car, and going back to report that either no one was home, or that the address was wrong was the smart thing to do, but as always, there was that little, mischievous twat shuttling its devilish promptings down the halls of his mind that drove him to investigate.
One step after the other, his feet led him from tile to wooden flooring, the old material protesting having to support something after an indefinitely long period of dormancy. His head was on a swivel, surveying the entrance hall. White on peeling paint, a wayward staircase running up the right hand wall, and horses. Horses everywhere. Two pegasi supported a table to the left of him, the edge laced by tiny unicorns. Regular horses ran up the guardrail, like steeds in a horse race. All of them were engraved with expert craftsmanship. Carpenters all around the world would surely be jealous of such fine work. But Jason? He was no carpenter. This was creepy as hell.
“This has gotta be some sort of a setup...” He muttered under his breath, daring to reach a hand out, trailing his fingers across the elegant carpentry blanketed with decades of dust. Nobody’s been here in years.
As silently as he could, he traversed the stairs, each step frighteningly louder than the previous—the old, frail steps below creaked violently, rusty nails shifting at his weight. Of all the things that were preserved, it had to be the acoustics. If there was anyone or anything in this house, they certainly knew he was here.
Instinctively, he had fished his phone out of his pocket and flipped on the in-built light, the dull beam cutting through the darkness and highlighting the hundreds of nomadic dust particles floating through the air. They fled from him as he walked by, displaced by his foreign mass.
The top of the stairwell greeted him with the sight of more horse-engraven furniture covered haphazardly by tarpaulin. They lined the long corridor like vagrants, without a place to call home. Were they in the process of moving out? He had no answer, and unless someone came out of the woodwork to tell him, he doubted he would get one.
Passing by the first several sets of various furniture, he caught a glimpse of dull gold out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head slightly, he discovered… something. Nestled in between the arm of a chair and the border of a tarp, was a wing. He let his hand delve into the crack, grasping onto the base of whatever the wing was attached to, and pulled.
It came out easily enough, though it was followed by an explosion of dust, drawing another bout of coughing from him. “God damn dust...” he muttered, covering his nose with his shirt, his eyes scanning the item in his hand, the other bringing his phone light to bear on it.
It shone, the light from his phone creating a soft glare on its bronzy surface. Wiry legs shot up into a broad, puffed out torso, two majestic wings rising up into the air by its sides, little flames etched into them. No eyes were clearly engraved on the statuette, but it exuded a sense of power and safety. If his memory wasn’t failing him, the thing he was holding was called a phoenix.
His eyes grazed the bottom of it, where a small placard sat. It said thus, in a language he didn’t recognize: Η ζωή μετά το θάνατο, μέσα από την αιώνια φλόγα.
Curious, but ultimately useless. He put it down, back on top of the tarpaulin.
Foraging onward, he found nothing, even after performing cursory inspections of two rooms that branched off of the main passageway. Neither possessed anything worth noting, though what qualified for that requisite was a little shaky. He didn’t even know what he was looking for. A boogeyman? A ghost, perhaps?
Jason chuckled. Wouldn’t that be something?
“Pssh. What a bust.” Jason scoffed to no one in particular, opening the front door as his hands shoved themselves into the front pockets of his light blue jeans. With slow, defeated steps, he slumped his way down the rotting stairs of the front porch. Lifting his head up towards his car, his brows furrowed in confusion and concern at the sight that met him.
Whistling a tune to himself, a stranger stood in front of Jason’s Camry. Clad in a dark blue Carhartt style jacket, a sky blue dress shirt and tan cargo pants held up by a brown leather belt, the ominously ‘average’ fellow paced around the years old automobile, inspecting every intricate detail of the rotting clear-coat and fading paint on the car’s hood.
Jason found himself glued to the porch, heart racing at what laid before him. Who was he? Why was he here? Is he the owner of the house, a neighbor somewhere off? It was these rare moments in life, where Jason wished he had some form of protection on his person.
The stranger’s eyes glanced at the driver-side window, catching a glimpse of Jason’s frozen body behind. With hands in his jacket pockets, he turned around.
“You know, keeping your car out of the sun’ll stop that.” The man nodded his head towards the blotchy, faded hood, his short, curly, medium brown hair swayed with the motion.
“Thanks, I’ll… keep that in mind.” Jason responded hesitantly, as he took slow steps down the porch, with little intention of getting any closer.
“To be honest I didn’t expect you to show up this early. Didn’t realize that I’d be the one late to the party,” the man chuckled to himself.
With his head cocked down to the grassy ground beneath, the strange man took a few steps away from Jason’s car, before turning to face him.
Well, neighbor is off the list, then. “I don’t like to keep people waiting longer than they need to. I take it you’re the homeowner? I’m looking fo—”
“Celestia? She’s not here.” The stranger ignored Jason’s question. “There was a change of plans. She’s been moved to a location... better suited for a patient like herself. I was sent here to make sure you show up, and to get you on your merry way..”
Jason gave a weak chuckle, wrought with nervousness. “Fair enough, fair enough… I take it she’s been moved to a ward, then?”
The stranger’s eyes squinted, as he gave Jason a quick look over. “Sure. You’re Jason, I presume?”
“Yes sir.”
With a deep sigh, the man took his hands out of his pockets, placing them on his hips. “Richard Wilson, I.I.R.A. I’m gonna keep this short, kid. There’s not a huge rush, but we definitely need to get moving. If there’s anything important you’re gonna need, now’s the time to grab it.”
Richard motioned to the Camry behind him, before he ambled down the faded sidewalk, towards a dark blue Dodge Charger that went previously unnoticed. The four-door sedan was in much better condition than Jason’s own vehicle, save for a few flakes of dried mud splattered against the front wheel wells. Jason presumed it had to be at least a 2015 model, as it wears the recent face-lift and tail-end swap of the latest generation.
“Oh, uh… I live about thirty or so minutes away.”
Richard stopped in his tracks, eyeing Jason up and down. As his body shifted, Richard’s jacket swayed for a second, giving Jason the glimpse of a polymer pistol handle, sticking out from a black leather holster.
“It’s a little too late to be running home. Grab anything you need out of the car, and hop in.”
So many questions. “Sir…? Sir!—”
“Call me Richard,” the man interrupted with a chuckle. “Unless you want me to start calling you sonny?”
The car ride was anything but quiet. The worn rubber wheels rumbled against the old asphalt below, emitting an invasive, droning rumble across the entire cabin. The fabric seats below were firm, making them less than ideal for longer roadtrips—Jason could feel his glutes growing sore with every passing moment. The V6 engine made little to no noise, except for the occasional rev increase on a downshift.
Bored, yet anxious, Jason found himself leaning against his armrest, staring out at the ever-changing landscape before him. Minutes previously, they were racing down one of many crowded lanes on the I-95. Now, however, Jason found himself glancing his eyes over fields of seemingly never-ending grass. The tall, yellow stocks swayed in the gentle breeze, zipping by as the car rolled down the road.
Then, the silence was broken. “So, kid. What do you know about the UN?”
Jason rolled his tongue around, before responding. “Well, they’re an international organization, composed of various nations that do anything from managing global health and health awareness to leading international efforts to combat hunger.”
“Huh. That’s a more in depth answer than I expected from a man of your… background,” the other man quipped out.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jason bit back.
“Nothing, nothing!” he replied, followed by more chuckling. Jason was already starting to dislike the man.
“Now, where were we? The UN! Yes, you’ve hit the nail on the head—mostly. We’re also tasked with managing foreign affairs, given the nation in question doesn’t have a medium of contacting and or settling things on a national level.”
“...Okay,” Jason responded. “But what does that have to do with anything?”
“...You got the folder, right? Celestia isn’t a very common name here in the states.”
“Ah, I think I get it. She’s from another country, yeah?”
Richard took a hand off the steering wheel, tilting it back and forth in a ‘so-so’ gesture. “Yes, and no.”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “...Could we refrain from speaking in riddles, please?”
Richard exhaled, placing his hand back on the wheel. “Sorry kid, force of habit with a job like mine. You seem like a decent enough guy though, so I suppose…”
“...Suppose?”
Clearing his throat, Richard continued. “You at least deserve a bit of a heads up. You’re going to be working with foreign royalty from another reality. We’re trying to establish good relations, so try to be on your best behavior, okay?”
There was only silence in the car as the information seemed to soak itself into the very air.
“...What?” was the only response Jason was able to formulate.
“See? There’s a reason I gotta be vague with people. I’m telling you the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me god, and you can’t even string two words together in reply,” Richard chuckled once more.
“What the hell else am I supposed to say with that information? You honestly expect me to believe that my patient is royalty, from another reality? Are you fucking serious?”
“I don’t expect you to do anything other than what I tell you to. Believe whatever the hell you want to, but you wanted the truth, so I gave you the truth.” Richard retorted, a hint of annoyance in his vocals. “Trust me, kid—”
“Jason. I’m no kid, and you’re not exactly an old man yourself.”
Hazel eyes rolled in their sockets. “Trust me, Jason, Everyone assigned to this project felt the exact same way when we saw the pictures. Aliens aren’t the grey, bug-eyed freaks that Hollywood makes them out to be.”
Jason grunted. “So what do they look like then, huh?”
“Like something you’d win in a claw machine.” Richard chuckled, before pushing a few locks of hair off his forehead. “Kinda like horses, but smaller, and cuter.”
“...Like a pony?”
Richard snapped his fingers, pointing a finger gun at Jason. “Yeah! Like a pony.”
Jason laughed out. “That’s got to be the most unbelievable shit I’ve ever heard!”
Richard nodded his head, before awkwardly thrusting his hips out of his seat. A hand came off the steering wheel, fishing into one of the many pockets in his cargo pants. After a few moments, Richard comes out with a folded photograph. “Here. Meet your patient.”
Jason looked over, eyeing the crumpled white back of the photo, before he took it in his hands, unfolding it. The first thing he saw was her blinding smile. Second were her two, forward-facing eyes that dominated her equine-esque head, each tinged by an exotic blend of various purples. Her head was framed by a deluge of unkempt, yet simeotaneously majestic hair, containing various colors of the rainbow. Several other things could be noted, all foreign, yet captivating in their own ways, but the most striking thing were those eyes. They seemed to exude pure, raw emotion, like a radiator on full blast. It was almost unnerving, but also wonderful, in a way he couldn’t describe.
“Princess Celestia. One of two sisters ruling over the land of Equestria—she who raises and lowers the sun, and she who has lived for over a thousand years.”
“She’s… Wow.” Jason’s own eyes never lever the photo, fixating on each of her awe-inspiring features.
“Sight for sore eyes, huh?”
“...Yeah.”
“Think you’re up for the challenge?”
Regaining his wits, Jason responded. “I don’t know, up until this point, it hasn’t seemed like I’ve had much of a choice.”
Richard began to laugh. A laugh not of chidery or belittling, but a laugh in which the humor was found with he interpreted an answer to be ‘correct’. “Well, to be entirely blunt, you really don’t. Not with something as big as this.
“Why though?”
“Why what?”
“Why me?
“Because she chose you.” Richard rubbed the back of his head. “To be honest, we were going to swap you out after we read about your little ‘incident’. It was by Celestia’s word that we kept you.”
Jason’s stomach felt like it was collapsing in on itself. His mouth opened, yet nothing came out.
“I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to get the answers to those questions.”
