The Statue Gardenby Star FlameChaptersThe GardensKnight of the SistersPrince of StarsThe GardensOn most days, the Royal Gardens had at least a few visitors milling about the grounds. Citizens from all over stopping in to see them at least once on their journeys. This day, however, the gates were closed. Those flying were directed away from the Gardens, and the Guard stood vigilant to make sure no-one slipped in. For one mare walked through the Gardens alone. Some would call her radiant, beautiful; glorious and shining as her station. Others would call her devoted, inspiring; leading Equestria by example. Yet more, some scant few, would call her an enemy. Both a powerful equal and a small fool. She, however, would simply call herself ‘The One Who’s Left’. The mare strode purposefully through the Gardens, ignoring the fanciful flourishes done to the hedges and the fences. She strode past old blooms planted decades before, and animals living happily on the grounds. She walked, until she reached the old quarter. The first quarter. Spellwork quieted what hustle and bustle echoed down to the Gardens, leaving naught but the wind and flowing water for audible company. This was no place of celebration. This was a place of remembrance. Monuments were erected in all shapes and sizes, each with their own fitting plot to give them the proper space. The mare did not stop at the first one she came across. As always, she started with the first one that was placed here. A large plot lay before her, ringed first in hedges, then in simple vegetable crops, tended carefully to maintain their health before harvest. Just as the original farm the first seeds were taken from, they were not grown for display, or to add to the gardens’ beauty; they were grown to feed the people of Canterlot. The statue in the middle, the mare’s first visit, watched over them. An aged stallion stood, eyes forward and full of hope. Armor rested heavy on his form, and his sword lay dependable at his side. The mare breathed deep, and stepped in. Knight of the SistersBright Star saw how the Royal Sisters defeated Discord when he was young. He saw the chaotic tyrant turned to stone, and the two alicorns beginning to rebuild their home. Bright Star and his family followed them to the forest named Everfree, and were some of the first to settle nearby while the Sisters built their castle. When the castle was finished, and the colt came of age, he and many others volunteered their service to the Princesses. Some offered their skills as aides, some as scribes, skilled masons and artists. Bright Star sought to learn the art of fighting to defend the rebuilt land. From what remained of the old guard before Discord, Bright Star learned his craft, honing it alongside the first true contingent of guards for the Sisters’ castle. It may not have been his place, but when the Sisters wished to begin reconnecting the scattered towns, Bright Star was one of the first to volunteer. No matter what lay ahead, whether it be the wilderness, remnants of chaos magic, or simple bandits taking advantage, Bright Star was always one of the first to volunteer. It gave his parents a fright every time. All the same, Bright Star donned his armor, carried his blade, and marched alongside the Sisters he sought to be like. Over time, his armor scuffed. His blade dulled and needed sharpening. He became the one to teach the new blood. When he first started to silver, when the first creases came to his face, he met perfection. Her name was Moonlit Melody, and she was a singer, between her work on her family's farm, and just as silvered as he. He infuriated her, keeping his tune of going headlong into danger. She drove him mad, singing warped songs of his journeys at his expense. But she was always there when he returned to the town in the Everfree; a steady rock in the expanding space. Over time, the insults blunted, and harsh glares sent in return softened. Finally, Bright Star stopped to speak with her one evening, and found that her song did not stop with her singing. He found that Moonlit Melody had a heart of gold, was as warm as the summer days, and as steady and unshaken as the winter nights. And Bright Star wished to be so brilliant. Journey by journey, meeting by meeting, day by day, they grew closer. Moonlit Melody stopped waiting to sing, and simply waited for Bright Star. Bright Star stopped spending his days within the castle, and sought out the mare in turn. Together, they built their own home near the farm. There, they spent what time they could together, between their work. When Bright Star wasn’t training new guards or off with one or both of the Sisters, and when Moonlit Melody wasn’t keeping the town fed and happy with food and song. Then, they had all the time in the world together. And there, they raised their children. Beneath the warmth of Celestia’s sun. Beneath the safety of Luna’s moon. Time passed. Seasons came and went. The children grew and learned and took on their own jobs. Bright Star and Moonlit Melody gained more and more silver. More and more lines and wrinkles. Bright Star never stopped his journeys. Moonlit Melody never stopped her songs. Not even as the years started to drag. Not even as their children started their own families. Until, one day, Moonlit Melody's song fell quiet. She had sung for Bright Star, returning home from another trip with the Sisters, welcoming him home in the way they met; picking on all his faults. Bright Star wheezed his laughter, sat with her by their fireplace, and told her off for old time's sake. And there, in that comfortable warmth and happiness, did Moonlit Melody sing her last. A song of love and joy. Bright Star followed her wishes in the morning to have her body cremated. He would keep her ashes with him, always. “Until you're ready to follow me,” she had said. Bright Star wasn't ready yet. When his family was done saying their goodbyes to the matriarch he was now trusted with, he went on another journey. He went alone this time. He did as he always did, even in his old age. He wandered the roads, going from town to town. Where he found a beautiful sight, he stopped for a time, basking in its fleeting moment. When he found trouble, he put a stop to it, be it with a sharp blade or gentle words. There were far more sights than there was trouble. Some passed news of his travels. Others passed news to him of happenings around Equestria. All was well. Eventually, the roads turned back to Everfree. On the last day of his journey, Bright Star came to a sudden stop in the road as a chill shot down his spine. Something was wrong. He could feel it in the air, in the grass, in every breath he took of the Everfree. Nothing happened, and yet, whiplash rocked through the forest. Bright Star made it home that night, beneath the thick canopy of the woods. No-one was outside to greet him. The Castle was ruined. Bright Star stepped carefully through rubble, wary of collapse and drawing attention with his armor. He found Celestia alone in the garden. She simply stood there, staring up at the moon, unblinking. Where once he would have called her radiant, now she was dull and worn. She had none of her regalia, and neither her mane nor tail flowed. If Bright Star looked hard enough, he'd almost think the colors were fading, too. His armor finally clinked against itself. Celestia's gaze crawled in his direction as ire wormed its way onto her features. “We asked to be alone— Bright Star?” Bright Star cautiously stepped forward, bowing his head to his Princess before following her gaze towards the silver light of the moon. Silver light now marred by the silhouette of a unicorn's head. “What happened?” he asked, no more than a whisper on the wind. Celestia turned her gaze up. “Luna… fell. Became a monster. Blamed me. We fought. I… could not help her.” Her gaze did not waver as what remained of tears fell from it. Bright Star felt his soul go cold as he understood. Luna marred the moon. “Your Highness–” “I failed, Bright Star.” Celestia's gaze fell, until she locked eyes with the dirt. “Her. Our ponies. This town. You. All of this was built for nothing.” “N-Not for nothing,” Bright Star protested. “We can rebuild the castle, and when Princess Luna returns–” “If she returns, we will not be here.” Before further protest could start, Celestia went on, “The Elements are silent. The Tree's warmth fades. Whatever protection it held will be lost. Sooner or later, we will have to leave.” Bright Star did not understand, not for a while. When the first wild roots took hold in the farm, resistant and stubborn against any attempts to remove them, then he understood. The forest began to take back all the space the town of Everfree had cleared out. Bright Star watched the warmth and safety he had lived in for most of his life fade and die as the forest closed in. Bright Star saw how the radiant Princess he was inspired by only withered further as the first groups left the Everfree. Bright Star watched the farm of the family he was welcomed to—the farm of his family rotted and fed the new growths. He watched his home be ruined and left behind. Bright Star led his family out on the new journey, towards the new home Celestia had in mind. Bright Star did not see Canterlot. He had one last journey to make. Moonlit Melody was waiting for him. And he was ready to follow her. Sir Bright Star He set the Example When Equestria was healing, he stepped up to protect it When aid was called for, he made the journeys When he had time, he built a home He served until his end, devoted to Equestria’s safety May he never be forgotten. Author's Note Someone has to go first; this old story goes no other way. But the path will be paved for those left to follow. Prince of StarsStar Chart first met his mother when he first became aware of the warm embrace that took care of him. Later, he would learn she simply took him in as an infant, but from his first moment, he knew she was his mother. As radiant and warm and pure as her station, he knew he was hers. Much of his early youth from then was spent with her. Learning, playing, or simply following her around the halls of Canterlot Castle, he spent it all focused on her. She was fascinating to him. She was Princess Celestia, Princess of the sun! Not to mention the sun itself, which he had been told off numerous times for trying to stare at it in spite of the pain and the lingering spot in his vision. Star Chart was Sarosian, she’d told him. A subspecies of pony, nocturnal in nature, and the reason why his eyes were strange, and his wings were leathery, and did not bear the feathers that hers did. And why his eyes hurt for so long after staring at the sun. One night, Star Chart followed his mother into the Royal Gardens, and there she pointed his attention upwards. The stars had always drawn some measure of his attention, sure; but that night, in the open field of the Gardens, under the light of the Mare in the Moon, he could see everything. It was like the universe opened up above him. It was beautiful. Terrifying. Wonderful. And while Celestia was trying to tell him something about the moon, Star Chart sat himself in the dirt, grabbed a stick, and drew everything he saw. After a minute, his mother took notice, and was surprised. Every minute detail of his drawing was exact, a perfect recreation of every star and stripe and band of color he could see, stenciled out in the dirt. And when she looked to the heavens herself, she admitted to him, “I do not see everything that you see.” It was that night that Star Chart earned his Mark. A constellation set on the purple-blue cloud of a nebula, restrained by the white outline of parchment—a sheer inversion of details from his drawing in the dirt. While he would have adored settling in and watching the stars forever, his mother had other ideas. Come morning, he was to spend time with other foals his age; find community in his peers. Thus did the other shoe of his birth drop. While he met a few who would come to enjoy his drawings, and those who he'd leave his paper behind to play with, one critical issue came to light. Where the others were winded, Star Chart was tired. Where they were tired, he was exhausted to the point of almost passing out. Or, to the point of actually passing out, if waking up to his mother’s worried face was any indication. A visit to several doctors confirmed his mother's fears; his body was weak. His heart and his lungs more so than anything else, inadequate for his body now, and inadequate for the future. Even as a young foal, Star Chart knew he didn't have as long as anyone else. If he was honest, and he was, he didn't care. He knew what he had; his mother, his new friends, and the rest of his life to study the stars. Thus did he set out to do exactly that. Every night, Star Chart kept his gaze on the stars, and produced a new map of whatever section stole his attention. His mother and his friends—Cloud Racer, Clear Sight, and Luminosity; one pegasus, two unicorns—they helped in their own ways. Parchment, quills, ink, paints; everything he needed to do his work. Though he knew he didn't always show it well, he cherished every moment his work was intruded upon, and quietly wished none of them would ever leave. All the beauty and knowledge in the sky meant next to nothing if he had no-one to share it with. But, as the years wore on, and he grew weaker, they, too, had their work to do. And then they presented it to him. Cloud Racer cleared the skies around his room in the castle, keeping the sky clear for him to work every night. Clear Sight developed her own method of glassmaking, magnifying Star Chart's sight of the heavens beyond what he already managed Luminosity applied his enchantments to Clear Sight's glass, and his own gifts, making sure that even the darkest shadows would never intrude on Star Chart's work. Year after year, Star Chart improved his diagrams, his maps of the heavens. Year after year, he added new stars to old maps, new maps to old sections, and touched up the old works that were still correct. And then, at the age of fifteen, when he knew the end was coming, he declared his work finished. Star Chart would work no more, and he would not suffer the slow, agonizing end that fate had dealt him. When his mother came to check on him the day after he was done, all he said was, “Will you gather my friends? And, will you help me? For the first time, I want to go flying tonight.” Celestia agreed at once. On a clear, crisp night, Cloud Racer formed a pocket of vapor into a place for herself, Clear Sight, and Luminosity. From the first day, they were together, and they were together to the last. Celestia gently carried her son into the sky, and together they gazed up at the cosmos. With the wind in his mane and his wings outstretched, Star Chart wept and laughed in pure, unbridled joy; quiet in his weary state. And then he leaned close to his mother and said, “Let me go.” At first, Celestia refused; she couldn't do that to him. But Star Chart threatened to push off of her, to force himself down. And so, Celestia reluctantly agreed. She gave him one final brush of his mane, one last nuzzle, one last hug, squeezed with warmth. And she let him go. Star Chart plummeted, in spite of his outstretched wings. He plummeted, and he laughed. Where once he could barely be heard by his friends, now it was downright uproarious, echoing off the side of the mountain. Celestia and his friends could only watch as he fell, and loosed so much bottled up joy, they almost thought that he'd pull himself up. And Star Chart simply laughed, and watched the heavens. For the first time in his life, he could have sworn he saw the heavens lurch. Lurch as a boy doomed by fate still stared daring into the universe with eyes full of hunger for knowledge and fangs bared at the stars to drink deep their secrets. Prince Star Chart He Mapped The Heavens Though young, he spent his years watching the heavens He charted the paths we rely upon He noted bodies no other saw He shared the fruits of his thirst for knowledge May He Never Be Forgotten
The GardensOn most days, the Royal Gardens had at least a few visitors milling about the grounds. Citizens from all over stopping in to see them at least once on their journeys. This day, however, the gates were closed. Those flying were directed away from the Gardens, and the Guard stood vigilant to make sure no-one slipped in. For one mare walked through the Gardens alone. Some would call her radiant, beautiful; glorious and shining as her station. Others would call her devoted, inspiring; leading Equestria by example. Yet more, some scant few, would call her an enemy. Both a powerful equal and a small fool. She, however, would simply call herself ‘The One Who’s Left’. The mare strode purposefully through the Gardens, ignoring the fanciful flourishes done to the hedges and the fences. She strode past old blooms planted decades before, and animals living happily on the grounds. She walked, until she reached the old quarter. The first quarter. Spellwork quieted what hustle and bustle echoed down to the Gardens, leaving naught but the wind and flowing water for audible company. This was no place of celebration. This was a place of remembrance. Monuments were erected in all shapes and sizes, each with their own fitting plot to give them the proper space. The mare did not stop at the first one she came across. As always, she started with the first one that was placed here. A large plot lay before her, ringed first in hedges, then in simple vegetable crops, tended carefully to maintain their health before harvest. Just as the original farm the first seeds were taken from, they were not grown for display, or to add to the gardens’ beauty; they were grown to feed the people of Canterlot. The statue in the middle, the mare’s first visit, watched over them. An aged stallion stood, eyes forward and full of hope. Armor rested heavy on his form, and his sword lay dependable at his side. The mare breathed deep, and stepped in.
Knight of the SistersBright Star saw how the Royal Sisters defeated Discord when he was young. He saw the chaotic tyrant turned to stone, and the two alicorns beginning to rebuild their home. Bright Star and his family followed them to the forest named Everfree, and were some of the first to settle nearby while the Sisters built their castle. When the castle was finished, and the colt came of age, he and many others volunteered their service to the Princesses. Some offered their skills as aides, some as scribes, skilled masons and artists. Bright Star sought to learn the art of fighting to defend the rebuilt land. From what remained of the old guard before Discord, Bright Star learned his craft, honing it alongside the first true contingent of guards for the Sisters’ castle. It may not have been his place, but when the Sisters wished to begin reconnecting the scattered towns, Bright Star was one of the first to volunteer. No matter what lay ahead, whether it be the wilderness, remnants of chaos magic, or simple bandits taking advantage, Bright Star was always one of the first to volunteer. It gave his parents a fright every time. All the same, Bright Star donned his armor, carried his blade, and marched alongside the Sisters he sought to be like. Over time, his armor scuffed. His blade dulled and needed sharpening. He became the one to teach the new blood. When he first started to silver, when the first creases came to his face, he met perfection. Her name was Moonlit Melody, and she was a singer, between her work on her family's farm, and just as silvered as he. He infuriated her, keeping his tune of going headlong into danger. She drove him mad, singing warped songs of his journeys at his expense. But she was always there when he returned to the town in the Everfree; a steady rock in the expanding space. Over time, the insults blunted, and harsh glares sent in return softened. Finally, Bright Star stopped to speak with her one evening, and found that her song did not stop with her singing. He found that Moonlit Melody had a heart of gold, was as warm as the summer days, and as steady and unshaken as the winter nights. And Bright Star wished to be so brilliant. Journey by journey, meeting by meeting, day by day, they grew closer. Moonlit Melody stopped waiting to sing, and simply waited for Bright Star. Bright Star stopped spending his days within the castle, and sought out the mare in turn. Together, they built their own home near the farm. There, they spent what time they could together, between their work. When Bright Star wasn’t training new guards or off with one or both of the Sisters, and when Moonlit Melody wasn’t keeping the town fed and happy with food and song. Then, they had all the time in the world together. And there, they raised their children. Beneath the warmth of Celestia’s sun. Beneath the safety of Luna’s moon. Time passed. Seasons came and went. The children grew and learned and took on their own jobs. Bright Star and Moonlit Melody gained more and more silver. More and more lines and wrinkles. Bright Star never stopped his journeys. Moonlit Melody never stopped her songs. Not even as the years started to drag. Not even as their children started their own families. Until, one day, Moonlit Melody's song fell quiet. She had sung for Bright Star, returning home from another trip with the Sisters, welcoming him home in the way they met; picking on all his faults. Bright Star wheezed his laughter, sat with her by their fireplace, and told her off for old time's sake. And there, in that comfortable warmth and happiness, did Moonlit Melody sing her last. A song of love and joy. Bright Star followed her wishes in the morning to have her body cremated. He would keep her ashes with him, always. “Until you're ready to follow me,” she had said. Bright Star wasn't ready yet. When his family was done saying their goodbyes to the matriarch he was now trusted with, he went on another journey. He went alone this time. He did as he always did, even in his old age. He wandered the roads, going from town to town. Where he found a beautiful sight, he stopped for a time, basking in its fleeting moment. When he found trouble, he put a stop to it, be it with a sharp blade or gentle words. There were far more sights than there was trouble. Some passed news of his travels. Others passed news to him of happenings around Equestria. All was well. Eventually, the roads turned back to Everfree. On the last day of his journey, Bright Star came to a sudden stop in the road as a chill shot down his spine. Something was wrong. He could feel it in the air, in the grass, in every breath he took of the Everfree. Nothing happened, and yet, whiplash rocked through the forest. Bright Star made it home that night, beneath the thick canopy of the woods. No-one was outside to greet him. The Castle was ruined. Bright Star stepped carefully through rubble, wary of collapse and drawing attention with his armor. He found Celestia alone in the garden. She simply stood there, staring up at the moon, unblinking. Where once he would have called her radiant, now she was dull and worn. She had none of her regalia, and neither her mane nor tail flowed. If Bright Star looked hard enough, he'd almost think the colors were fading, too. His armor finally clinked against itself. Celestia's gaze crawled in his direction as ire wormed its way onto her features. “We asked to be alone— Bright Star?” Bright Star cautiously stepped forward, bowing his head to his Princess before following her gaze towards the silver light of the moon. Silver light now marred by the silhouette of a unicorn's head. “What happened?” he asked, no more than a whisper on the wind. Celestia turned her gaze up. “Luna… fell. Became a monster. Blamed me. We fought. I… could not help her.” Her gaze did not waver as what remained of tears fell from it. Bright Star felt his soul go cold as he understood. Luna marred the moon. “Your Highness–” “I failed, Bright Star.” Celestia's gaze fell, until she locked eyes with the dirt. “Her. Our ponies. This town. You. All of this was built for nothing.” “N-Not for nothing,” Bright Star protested. “We can rebuild the castle, and when Princess Luna returns–” “If she returns, we will not be here.” Before further protest could start, Celestia went on, “The Elements are silent. The Tree's warmth fades. Whatever protection it held will be lost. Sooner or later, we will have to leave.” Bright Star did not understand, not for a while. When the first wild roots took hold in the farm, resistant and stubborn against any attempts to remove them, then he understood. The forest began to take back all the space the town of Everfree had cleared out. Bright Star watched the warmth and safety he had lived in for most of his life fade and die as the forest closed in. Bright Star saw how the radiant Princess he was inspired by only withered further as the first groups left the Everfree. Bright Star watched the farm of the family he was welcomed to—the farm of his family rotted and fed the new growths. He watched his home be ruined and left behind. Bright Star led his family out on the new journey, towards the new home Celestia had in mind. Bright Star did not see Canterlot. He had one last journey to make. Moonlit Melody was waiting for him. And he was ready to follow her. Sir Bright Star He set the Example When Equestria was healing, he stepped up to protect it When aid was called for, he made the journeys When he had time, he built a home He served until his end, devoted to Equestria’s safety May he never be forgotten. Author's Note Someone has to go first; this old story goes no other way. But the path will be paved for those left to follow.
Prince of StarsStar Chart first met his mother when he first became aware of the warm embrace that took care of him. Later, he would learn she simply took him in as an infant, but from his first moment, he knew she was his mother. As radiant and warm and pure as her station, he knew he was hers. Much of his early youth from then was spent with her. Learning, playing, or simply following her around the halls of Canterlot Castle, he spent it all focused on her. She was fascinating to him. She was Princess Celestia, Princess of the sun! Not to mention the sun itself, which he had been told off numerous times for trying to stare at it in spite of the pain and the lingering spot in his vision. Star Chart was Sarosian, she’d told him. A subspecies of pony, nocturnal in nature, and the reason why his eyes were strange, and his wings were leathery, and did not bear the feathers that hers did. And why his eyes hurt for so long after staring at the sun. One night, Star Chart followed his mother into the Royal Gardens, and there she pointed his attention upwards. The stars had always drawn some measure of his attention, sure; but that night, in the open field of the Gardens, under the light of the Mare in the Moon, he could see everything. It was like the universe opened up above him. It was beautiful. Terrifying. Wonderful. And while Celestia was trying to tell him something about the moon, Star Chart sat himself in the dirt, grabbed a stick, and drew everything he saw. After a minute, his mother took notice, and was surprised. Every minute detail of his drawing was exact, a perfect recreation of every star and stripe and band of color he could see, stenciled out in the dirt. And when she looked to the heavens herself, she admitted to him, “I do not see everything that you see.” It was that night that Star Chart earned his Mark. A constellation set on the purple-blue cloud of a nebula, restrained by the white outline of parchment—a sheer inversion of details from his drawing in the dirt. While he would have adored settling in and watching the stars forever, his mother had other ideas. Come morning, he was to spend time with other foals his age; find community in his peers. Thus did the other shoe of his birth drop. While he met a few who would come to enjoy his drawings, and those who he'd leave his paper behind to play with, one critical issue came to light. Where the others were winded, Star Chart was tired. Where they were tired, he was exhausted to the point of almost passing out. Or, to the point of actually passing out, if waking up to his mother’s worried face was any indication. A visit to several doctors confirmed his mother's fears; his body was weak. His heart and his lungs more so than anything else, inadequate for his body now, and inadequate for the future. Even as a young foal, Star Chart knew he didn't have as long as anyone else. If he was honest, and he was, he didn't care. He knew what he had; his mother, his new friends, and the rest of his life to study the stars. Thus did he set out to do exactly that. Every night, Star Chart kept his gaze on the stars, and produced a new map of whatever section stole his attention. His mother and his friends—Cloud Racer, Clear Sight, and Luminosity; one pegasus, two unicorns—they helped in their own ways. Parchment, quills, ink, paints; everything he needed to do his work. Though he knew he didn't always show it well, he cherished every moment his work was intruded upon, and quietly wished none of them would ever leave. All the beauty and knowledge in the sky meant next to nothing if he had no-one to share it with. But, as the years wore on, and he grew weaker, they, too, had their work to do. And then they presented it to him. Cloud Racer cleared the skies around his room in the castle, keeping the sky clear for him to work every night. Clear Sight developed her own method of glassmaking, magnifying Star Chart's sight of the heavens beyond what he already managed Luminosity applied his enchantments to Clear Sight's glass, and his own gifts, making sure that even the darkest shadows would never intrude on Star Chart's work. Year after year, Star Chart improved his diagrams, his maps of the heavens. Year after year, he added new stars to old maps, new maps to old sections, and touched up the old works that were still correct. And then, at the age of fifteen, when he knew the end was coming, he declared his work finished. Star Chart would work no more, and he would not suffer the slow, agonizing end that fate had dealt him. When his mother came to check on him the day after he was done, all he said was, “Will you gather my friends? And, will you help me? For the first time, I want to go flying tonight.” Celestia agreed at once. On a clear, crisp night, Cloud Racer formed a pocket of vapor into a place for herself, Clear Sight, and Luminosity. From the first day, they were together, and they were together to the last. Celestia gently carried her son into the sky, and together they gazed up at the cosmos. With the wind in his mane and his wings outstretched, Star Chart wept and laughed in pure, unbridled joy; quiet in his weary state. And then he leaned close to his mother and said, “Let me go.” At first, Celestia refused; she couldn't do that to him. But Star Chart threatened to push off of her, to force himself down. And so, Celestia reluctantly agreed. She gave him one final brush of his mane, one last nuzzle, one last hug, squeezed with warmth. And she let him go. Star Chart plummeted, in spite of his outstretched wings. He plummeted, and he laughed. Where once he could barely be heard by his friends, now it was downright uproarious, echoing off the side of the mountain. Celestia and his friends could only watch as he fell, and loosed so much bottled up joy, they almost thought that he'd pull himself up. And Star Chart simply laughed, and watched the heavens. For the first time in his life, he could have sworn he saw the heavens lurch. Lurch as a boy doomed by fate still stared daring into the universe with eyes full of hunger for knowledge and fangs bared at the stars to drink deep their secrets. Prince Star Chart He Mapped The Heavens Though young, he spent his years watching the heavens He charted the paths we rely upon He noted bodies no other saw He shared the fruits of his thirst for knowledge May He Never Be Forgotten
