It's funny, really.
The buildings and the streets, the music and the books, the words and the relationships.
The ponies.
They all change, no matter what, shifting from one form to another, and to another, and to another.
One can open their eyes at any point along this long, winding road of history, surrounded by civilization, and pinpoint the where and the when if they know enough.
Wherever we lay our roots, change becomes a constant.
An inevitability.
And those few of us that can step off the path get to see it all.
Every chapter added to the text, every revision made to the text, and every edition of the text released.
Time opens its arms to us with a warm smile.
And yet... turns a cold eye to others, those that remain on but a few pages, whose memories remain for but a few chapters.
And when they're gone, there will be more. And more. And more.
Each word so beautiful and special, coming together in each page, never failing to surprise me.
But no matter what.
Eventually, I must turn the page.
...
But out here?
Where the sunlight strikes not against cold stone castles, or towering monoliths of electricity and magic, or the fading red paint of a barn, but instead against the shine of grass, the glint of a trickling stream, the holes between the tree cover.
I can stay on this page forever.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply, filling my lungs with the same air I gulped so eagerly as a filly, running through these rolling hills when the one and only chapter seemed to stretch to infinity.
The wind pushes through my mane, long and flowing behind me, tickling my fur and brushing against the wings folded to my sides.
The tree's branches rustle in the gentle breeze. That sound, that wonderful sound, a sound that filled the air when the first seed took root, and will fill the air until the last leaf falls.
That sound will never leave me.
This wind will never leave me.
This sunlight will never leave me.
Why does so much else have to leave?
My ears flick as the wind high above is sliced through, a shadow passing over me. The ground shudders as its owner lands behind me on the hill.
"Twilight?"
His voice booms even when gentle. I open my eyes and stare forward towards the sun, hanging close to the horizon, but I do not speak.
"Twilight, is something wrong? What are you doing all the way out here? It's been a day since anyone saw you and—"
I sigh. "Do you remember this hill, Spike?"
Spike pauses. He trudges up beside me, each step shaking the earth. His form towers over me now, but I can feel his gaze over me, no different than that of the small, purple dragon when the small, purple filly cried over a failed test.
"I— I don't."
I chuckle quietly. "Mom used to take us here as kids. You know, this special patch of land far south of Canterlot, where its unique geography made it ineffective for farms or housing developments. We used to fly kites here."
Spike looks around. "I..." He looks up at the tree beside me. "Oh. I do now."
"We would have picnics under this tree." I laugh. "You used to try climbing it every time, and Mom would get mad at you, then get mad at me for having my nose stuck so deep in a book, that I wasn't watching you. And... the day before we moved to the observatory in Canterlot, we came back here together one last time and just sat under the tree as the sun went down."
Spike comes a little closer. "Uh... so, why are yo—"
"I miss them."
Spike's breath hitches in his throat. "I... miss them too, but—"
"No."
"W— what?"
I look down to the grass on the hill. My eyes flicker between every blade of grass, moving further until they seamlessly blend together in an endless sea of green. "I miss all of them, Spike. Not just them. Not just our family, or our first friends. But everypony that came after too..."
My horn erupts with brilliant, violet light. Six glowing, familiar faces float around me, soon joined by another, and another, and another, more and more, all of them shrinking until I am surrounded by a projection of the night sky itself, its countless stars twinkling at me. "Them and their friends, and their children, and their children's friends. Every face that passed me in the library cramming before a test, every smile during the Celebration of the Two Sisters, every laugh that echoed through the castle's hallways."
I exhale, and the stars slowly fall to the grass like gentle rain. I turn to Spike.
"Look at you... look how tall you are now. You used to be half my height."
Spike tilts his head. "Twilight, I passed your height about three hundred years ago." He furrows his eyebrows. "Are you feeling alright?"
I look at him, really look at him. His claws are sharp enough to slice steel, one flap of his wings could send an entire platoon of Royal Guard hurtling through the air. One breath could melt even the hardiest of armor.
But I look into those big, green eyes, and I see him. I still see Spike.
Spike blinks, then sighs and turns around. "Everypony's been wondering where you've been yesterday, Twilight. They wouldn't have woke my sleeping flanks and dragged me out here for nothing. Come on, let's go back and—"
"Don't leave." My voice drops to a whisper.
"Hmm?" Spike whips back. "If you want me to stay for a little longer, I can—"
"You know what I mean, Spike."
"..." Spike sighs and sits down beside me again. Gently, he extends a wing over me like a roof.
I breathe out and close my eyes again.
And I remember.
All of them.
