And the candle was passed to Twilight Sparkle.
For a moment, she simply gazed unblinkingly into the dancing flame. As a bead of wax dripped down the side of the candle, the alicorn realized she had been staring. She smiled in apology, set the candle gently down on the table, and sat down between Applejack and Rarity.
Neither of them, and none of her other friends spoke. Instead, they all looked into the candlelight, their minds occupied with their own thoughts. Twilight found herself entranced again, her mind drifting. How many candles did she burn in her long life of studies and rulership? To her shock, she realized she’d never paid much mind to them. To how finite they were. To how easy it was to blow one out, to have it be extinguished by an accident, or for it to simply burn away – with the inevitability and dignity of its singular purpose; bringing light to those who needed it.
Twilight’s voice continued where her initial thoughts left off. “I must have burnt somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty thousand candles in my lifetime,” she mused. The silence in the room changed from contemplative to expectant. “That’s an estimate, of course,” the Princess clarified. “I assume I’ve been burning, on average, one candle every day since the age of five or so. Granted, that’s just an guess, really, since I do use more than one at one time, but they also last longer than one evening, which is of course a relative term in itself – sometimes I work into the morning, and then—”
She stopped herself and smiled once more, at none of her friends in particular. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m rambling.”
“It’s alright, Twi,” Applejack said. “There ain’ no bad thing to say during a candlelight vigil. Save for bad things ‘bout those who had passed,” she added, and shot a preemptive glare towards Discord.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” the draconequus’ voice was quiet and strangely somber. “Believe it or not, despite all the teasing and some past animosity, Celestia was…” his voice trailed off and he took a deep breath. “She was truly special to me.”
Twilight nodded.
“Oh, I burned a lot more than you, Twilight!” Pinkie Pie interjected, her wrinkles folding into a brief dreamy smile. “And more candles, too!” The smile waned for a moment, before she quietly added: “...But those were happy candles. Inside lampions and on birthday cakes. Not… sad candles.”
“Pinkie, this ain’t supposed to be a sad candle, y’know?” Applejack put a hoof through her graying hair and clicked her tongue. “You light it in the pony’s honor. You’re supposed to remember the good things ‘bout them.”
“Ooh, like a trivia show!” Pinkie’s smile was back again. “Quick! What was the order of colors in Celestia’s mane!”
“Blue, green, purple—” Twilight started, but Applejack barged in again.
“Not like that, Pinkie Pie!” she huffed angrily – and paused with a start as the candle’s light bobbed and diminished. The earth pony finished quietly: “Ah meant the pony’s deeds an’ such.”
“Hey,” Rainbow Dash let out a croak of a chuckle. “Remember that time Celestia totally whooped Discord’s flank?”
“Oh boy do I,” Discord smiled dreamily. “And so did you ponies. A couple of times, actually. And you whooped other creatures’ flanks, too.”
“Ah, yes…” Rarity nodded serenely. “We did our fair share of flank-whooping back in the day, didn’t we, girls? And boys, of course,” she added, giving a slight nod to Discord and Spike.
“We sure did,” Spike replied with a slight smile, his great claw gently patting Rarity’s hoof. “And I still have to whoop some every now and then in the dragon lands, else they wouldn’t really respect me…” He shook his head. “You know, you guys used to be pretty awesome.”
“Used to be?!” Rainbow Dash huffed with faux incredulity, then slapped Spike’s armored side when the dragon grimaced awkwardly. “Just pulling your leg, Spikey!” She looked into the candlelight again and clicked her tongue, adding quietly: “But we’re not getting any younger, are we?”
“Indeed…” Rarity squinted into the dancing candlelight. Twilight shrunk a little – as much as her stature allowed. Discord opened his mouth to say something, but Pinkie Pie was faster.
“Hey, remember that one time Celestia raised the sun?” she asked excitedly, before melting in another warm smile. “Boy, I looked at that sun and was all like: wow, now that a nice sun!”
“Which time was that again?” Discord cocked an eyebrow. “Was it a Sunday by any chance?”
“Nah, I think it was Monday. You know, that time the sun went up like –” Pinkie Pie winced as she stood up, then slowly got to her hind legs and finally, raised her front legs up triumphantly. “Hoooooommmm!”
The assembly gave a mix of chuckles and laughs at her antics. The little flame between them bobbed around, seemingly appreciative of the joke as well.
“Do you mean the…” Twilight started, briefly searching her memory for the old name. “The Summer Sun Celebration? That was the first time we—”
“–nah, this was the Monday after that I think. Or was it Sunday?” Pinkie frowned, tapping her chin pensively.
“Sunday would be more fitting, darling,” Rarity noted.
“Sunday it was, then!” Pinkie grinned and repeated her gesture. “Hoooooommmm!”
When the renewed laughter died down and Pinkie sat down with another wince, a quiet voice said: “Twilight made some beautiful sunrises, too.” Fluttershy blushed as the others turned to her, but Discord’s claw reassured her enough to finish her thought: “And sunsets, too.”
The others nodded and it was Twilight’s turn to blush. “I do what I can,” she said, looking into the flame again. “Hers are some big shoes to fill.”
“I think you’ve grown into them mighty fine,” Applejack nudged her, bobbing up a bit in an attempt to match Twilight’s head height. Once again the assembly gave laughs and snorts, sending the candlelight dancing.
They spent the evening remembering stories from the past. A lot of them were about Celestia, and a lot of them were about other things. Eventually, the flow slowly subsided, and they all ended up quiet again, simply looking at the candle.
“It’s almost done,” Fluttershy said softly. “What do we do when it goes out?”
Applejack gave a sad, but resolute smile. “Then it’s time to go on with our lives,” she sighed. “Ah’m—” she cleared her throat. “I’m sure it’s what Celestia would have wanted.”
They all looked at Twilight again for some reason. The alicorn stiffened, took a deep breath, and smiled reassuringly.
“I think so, too,” she managed to make her voice not quiver too much.
They quietened down again, watching the flame slowly shrink as it drank up the last remnants of the wax.
Later, at another vigil, Twilight remembered those final, quiet moments. The way the last seconds seemed to stretch into infinity – and yet, the moment seemed to end so quickly. Despite her wishes, time kept marching on. And on. And on.
It was just her and Discord now. The candle, green and purple, shined brightly across the room. Yet somehow, the flame didn’t seem warm at all.
“Discord,” the Empress asked slowly. “What happens when people die?”
The draconequus pondered the question for a few moments. Ultimately, he simply shrugged.
“I couldn’t say,” he said. “Some believe in an afterlife of some kind.” He waved his claw dismissively. “Maybe that would be a happy existence in perfect health, with all others who had passed. Or transcendence of the mortal form. Some say you learn all the secrets of the universe. Others say your soul becomes a star in the night’s sky.” He smirked.
“You don’t believe in any of that?”
Twilight’s advisor chuckled bitterly. “Come now, Twilight. I have enough trouble believing in existence itself in the first place.”
She let the silence do the questioning for her. In all those centuries past, she had learned not to force the truth out of the draconequus. Eventually, he would share what was on his mind if she gave him the space and the patience. He just loved the sound of his own voice too much.
They stared into the candlelight for long moments before Discord spoke again.
“Life,” he contemplated, “is a strange thing.” The candlelight glistened in his eyes and gave them a strange softness. “You could say it’s like a story being told. Just like all of this.” His careless gesture seemed to encompass their whole world. “The question is, does a story end when the book runs out?”
Twilight considered it. As always, the obvious answer wasn’t what her friend was after. He wanted her to contradict him – and for that, she would have to let go of her preconceptions. That was the thing that made Discord such a valued advisor; he made you think outside the box.
She had taken too long this time. “In a sense,” Discord added another clue, “a story never ends. Do you still remember Starswirl?”
Twilight nodded. “Of course. Flawed as he was, he was a cornerstone of our society.”
“Others remember him, too,” Discord ignored her remark. “Even to this day. And Celestia? Luna? Do you remember them?”
“I do. And all of my other friends, and many who were not as close.”
The draconequus shrugged. “So their story is not done yet. Who’s to say they are truly dead, then?”
Twilight shook her head. “They can’t do much from beyond the grave,” she objected, picking the first example that came to mind. “Pinkie will never bake me a cake again.” She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “Rarity won’t have me over for tea. Spike will never—”
She had to stop.
Discord snapped his fingers, breaking her out of the sudden whirlpool of emotion. A book materialized in his claw. He opened it on the first page and read: “Baking for Fun, by Pinkamena Dianne Pie.”
Twilight sighed. “Discord…” she chided, “not everyone leaves behind a book.”
“Not everyone has to.” He shrugged and the book vanished. “But almost everyone leaves behind something,” he insisted. “Fluttershy…” he paused, before starting again: “Fluttershy is long gone now, but it’s thanks to her that we are even speaking today.” He smiled wistfully, looking far away, where Twilight could not see. “Without her,” he continued softly, “I would have never appreciated friendship as I do today.”
Twilight remained silent.
“In a sense,” Discord continued, “we are not truly gone until our deeds no longer echo through the lives of others. And who is to say when that moment comes? Centuries hence, there will be someone,somewhere still somewhat influenced by what someone before them did. Even if they don’t know that person’s name, or that they existed at all.” He shook his head. “No, Twilight. A story doesn’t end when people die. Alive or not, people are strands in a great, mad, chaotic tapestry stretching all the way to the…” his voice trailed off and he shrugged.
“To the beginning?” Twilight asked helpfully.
“Let’s leave it at that,” Discord smirked. “Even you, Twilight Sparkle, are ignorant of some… pretty fundamental things about this so-called reality.”
“How about you share your insights?” Twilight prodded him. “Or do I have to wait for my own afterlife and hope it comes with omniscience?”
“I… really couldn’t say,” Discord sighed.
“Are you going to be obtuse on purpose?”
Discord simply gave a shrug. “Sure. Why not. But my point still stands. Afterlife or not, death or the illusion of it – people are never truly gone.”
There was silence again, and a gentle hiss of a bobbing flame.
“Why do we have candlelight vigils, then?” Twilight asked.
“Why do we have birthday parties?” Discord asked back. “We like to mark an occasion.”
Twilight sighed. She suddenly didn’t want to argue anymore. “It looks like you have it all figured out, Discord.”
“Far from it,” he smirked. “But I'd say I have a pretty good coping mechanism.”
Twilight smiled at his bluntness. “It makes some sense. But... it doesn’t make my grief any easier to bear.”
“It doesn’t,” he agreed. “You just have to give that some time.”
She nodded. “Speaking of which,” she looked at the candle again, “this thing will probably burn for hours.”
“Good. It gives us plenty of time for stories. Say, do you remember when Spike fought that giant bee?”
Twilight smiled.
Hours later, when the Empress had fallen asleep, the draconequus gently covered her with a blanket. Then he reached for the candle, and smiled to himself.
He knew she would not despise him for the candle’s absence. In a few moments, this story would end and she would be none the wiser. And yet, Twilight Sparkle, Fluttershy, Spike, and all of the others would be part of the tapestry even he could not truly perceive. The memories of them, and the stories which were made up about them would persist. They would all burn in the minds and hearts and deeds of others – out there somewhere. And when even those beings breathed their last, their own tapestry would still bear the marks of his friends – real or not.
It was only when all was extinguished that Fluttershy would be truly gone.
For now, it was time to see to the end of their own little world. But by its very nature, none of them would even notice. Existence would simply run out like a book runs out of pages.
Discord stood up and reached out, somewhere out there, before this story ended.
And thus, the candle was passed.
Author's Note
A bit ponderous and aimless, I admit. But I felt I should write something. I don't expect the next story to be quite so heavy.
We all have to find ways to deal with the pains of life.
I believe the tragedy of death should not overshadow the good parts of a life. Grief is a natural thing that needs to be processed in its good time. It's important to have others to hear one out, and to be able to open about such emotions. Don't be afraid to reach out, but don't let sadness become a self-fueling cycle of aimless misery. If you have friends who are going through hard patches, show them you're willing to help them through. Respect their emotions, but be ready to step in and steady them, should those emotions become unhealthy.
Be there for others, and let others be there for you. After all, we're all in this together.
