Twilight Sparkle had always regarded immortality as both a blessing and a curse. It was like chains of gold, gilded shackles. Seemingly enticing, but in reality, a grasp of which you cannot break free. Twilight missed her children. She missed her husband.

She missed her friends.

There were pictures of them, of course, countless photos and historical paintings and memorials and glass windows. A picture can speak a thousand words, but a memory priceless. She cherished their memories.

Sometimes she felt often like a star in the night sky. A soft, glowing glimmer of fiery aura burning valiantly against the unknown abyss above, a constant guiding light, leading her people through the darkness.

Bright, and lonely, in the way that only things that lived forever were.