Unquenchable Fire

Prologue

I won’t try to pretend this story has a good ending. To this day, I’m not sure anypony knows exactly how to classify its end. All I know is what happened, who was involved, and where I am right now. This is where we begin. This is the starting line. Perhaps there is a finish, a point where all of these memories will finally pass, but if there is, then I cannot see it. I choose instead to believe that some part of this story will live on forever. Somehow, I feel that’s how it should be.

I walk through the streets of Ponyville, treading softly, trying to avoid the pieces of broken glass, smoldering wood, and cracked cobblestones. Everywhere I look is a mess. Houses are damaged, or gone altogether, small fires still burn, ignored by the fire brigade, and I even see an overturned fruit cart, its produce spilled over the street, rotting by now. I remember coming here once, before this all started, for the Summer Sun Festival. I can still remember the sights and sounds of that day- throngs of ponies in the streets, vendors selling their wares, and of course the festival’s events. I saw Princess Celestia that day, as beautiful as the rising sun. When she looked at the crowd, I felt she was staring right at me, and in those eyes was a warm, yet wise sort of happiness. There was no trace of despair in them yet, no look of longing for an Equestria that had once been whole and peaceful. There were simply those two purple eyes, telling me everything was fine, that Equestria would never change, that we would always live together in peace and harmony.

But those eyes lied. Unknowingly, perhaps, but they still lied.

I turn at the clock tower, looking up at it. Its face is scarred, and the hands are bent, but it still faithfully keeps the time. It reminds me of my purpose here. Everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve been through has left an impression on me, for better or worse. I was a war correspondent, out there with Equestria’s best and brightest, documenting for the world. Now the magic has stopped flying through the air, the clamor of steel upon steel has died away, and the shouts- the shouts of the living and dying- they are gone as well.

But I am not finished yet.

My duties are far from over, for there is one more story left to tell. That is why I’m here, instead of in bustling Vanhoover, where my tired family waits. I see the sign- “Cookie’s Eatery” it says- hanging from a pole attached to a small building beneath an apartment. That’s my destination- where this story can truly begin. It’s a small, family-owned establishment- one of the few to escape the war relatively unscathed. This place now has a history behind it that will make it a legend. Those I’ve spoken to said it was used as a makeshift hospital during the conflict. Slowly, I open the door and step in. Nopony else is inside, save for the owners- a charming couple of Earth Ponies. One of them- green and brown with a frying pan cutie mark- acknowledges my presence with a nod. She’s busy sweeping up debris into a modest dustpan in the corner. Meanwhile, her husband- blue and gold, with the same cutie mark- steps over to me and asks me if I’d like anything to eat. I order a small basket of crisped Alfalfa and take my seat in a booth by the window, looking out into the street. The entire restaurant is dimly-lit, with the exception of the kitchen in the back. As I understand, this is due to the event that occurred here only a few days ago. As I wasn’t witness to it, I decide not to speculate on it. I’ve heard rumors, but nothing for a journalist to really rely on. I’m hoping tonight will finally change that. As I use my magic to pull a notebook and quill out of my saddlebag, I hear the door open and close. I don’t turn around. Instead I just wait. Sure enough, the purple Unicorn notices me and sits down at my table, across from me.

“Mr. Quillworth?” she asks, politely.

I nod. “And you are the honorable Mrs. Twilight Sparkle, am I correct?”

“Please,” she says quietly, “just call me Twilight. Being addressed like that… it just brings back so many memories.”

“I understand,” I say, laying my notebook on the table and magically picking up my quill. My food arrives, and I offer her some. She initially shakes her head, but I end up working out a split. We divide up the snack on napkins, and I lean back.

“Are you ready to begin?” I ask.

“In a moment,” she says, “I need to collect my thoughts. So much has happened.”

“If I may,” I say, “why did you agree to this interview? You certainly didn’t have to, and it probably isn’t going to be the most pleasant experience you’ve had.”

“I didn’t initially want to go through with it,” she sighs, “but then I realized that this is a story that has to be told. Not a story about the war itself- everyone knows about that- but about how that war was experienced. Do you see what I’m saying?”

I nod.

“Good. Then let’s start this,” she says, pulling her saddlebag onto the table and emptying its contents. I see a mound of correspondence, mingling with journals and diaries, and I even spy a few pictures with simple writing on them.

“I know you have questions for me,” she says, sifting through the pile, “but I figured this might be the best way to really allow you to see what happened- through the eyes of those who were there. I’ll still answer your questions, but if you have the time, I really think you should read some of this.”

I turn over a few of the notes and journals, recognizing a few names that I’ve heard since arriving in town: Captain Nimbus, Sergeant Mecha, Fluttershy, Princess Luna… the list goes on. I glance at the wall clock. It reads 9:34 p.m. Then I notice the owners observing me.

“You can stay for as long as you need to,” the green pony says. I turn back to Twilight.

“I’ll be here for as long as I need to be,” I say.

“Then you should start with this,” Twilight Sparkle says, pushing a single letter, stamped with the royal seal of Celestia, across the table. I unroll it slowly, making sure not to damage it, then begin to read.

“Dear Princess Celestia…”