I Look Forward to Yesterday
...is this my punishment?
It's dark. So dark. Can't… feel my legs. My wings sting.
My head… hurts. He—the human—said this one would work, whatever it is. Said he was getting tired. Tired of how long it was taking. I'm tired too.
He also called me a stupid horse. He insisted I should be thankful for finally getting the opportunity to die.
He's gone quiet. I hear the crinkle of old paper. Smells like… magic? And something else. Something sharp and harsh, like lightning after it strikes.
He’s muttering now. About paradoxes and… something about stars.
I remember that night so clearly. Luna always did love the stars.
She couldn't have been more than a tiny filly when she snuck out of the castle, chasing after a falling star she swore she saw. I found her hours later, shivering and covered in mud from head to hoof, tears flowing down her face. But clutched tightly in one hoof was some dandelions she must have gathered in the fields. "They're just as pretty, Tia," she insisted, voice wobbling. "See? Just as bright and yellow as the stars!"
Luna's grin and the sound of her laughter, so contagious it could chase away any sadness, feel like distant memories now.
I hope Luna got my message. Told her to run, to hide. That I'd find her when this was all over.
If it's ever over.
The human steps closer, and I catch a glimpse of something in his hands. Is that… no, it can't be. A chrono-disruptor? But that's impossible. My eyes widen in disbelief. That device... it's supposed to be…
How did he find it? I—
"You know what this is?" he asks, holding the metal and glass contraption up to my face. I don't answer. I won't give him the satisfaction.
He chuckles, a dark, grim sound. "It's a chrono-disruptor. Took me ages to find the right timeline where they'd invented it."
Timeline. The word sends a chill through my body. I've heard whispers, rumors of humans messing with the fabric of time itself. Never thought I'd see it firsthoof.
"I could kill you now," he muses, tracing the device along my cheek. It hums, setting my teeth on edge. "But where's the fun in that?"
Fun. As if any of this is a game to him.
He steps back, admiring his handiwork. The ropes bite into my fur, wings bent at unnatural angles. I try to use my magic, but it's like grabbing at smoke.
"Don't bother," he says, as if reading my thoughts. "This room is warded against your alicorn power. You're as helpless as a newborn foal."
I glare at him, pouring all my hatred into that one look. He just smiles.
When he first arrived, he stumbled out of the Everfree Forest, dazed and confused, claiming to have no memory of how he got there. His clothes were unlike anything I had ever seen—strange fabrics and patterns that looked both alien and familiar. I thought him harmless then, maybe even someone in need of help. So I took him into the castle.
Word spread quickly about the mysterious human. Ponies approached him with curiosity, offering him food, friendship, and even job opportunities. He seemed grateful, his eyes softening as he made friends among them. Even Twilight took a liking to him; she was particularly fascinated by his stories of self-moving chariots.
After a few months, he started to spend an unhealthy amount of time in the library at Canterlot Castle, pouring over ancient tomes and magical texts with an intensity that bordered on obsession. It should have been a warning sign—a red flag—but I dismissed it as simple curiosity.
Then came the changes.
Subtle at first: questions about our magic that grew more invasive; an interest in artifacts we kept locked away for good reason. His warm smiles became rare; his eyes grew cold.
The day he cornered me in my chambers still haunts me. "Celestia," he said softly, almost carefully. "There's something you need to see."
He led me down hidden corridors deep within the castle—a place not even Luna knew existed—until we reached a chamber filled with arcane symbols glowing ominously on every surface.
"Do you know what this is?" His voice was different now—sharp and commanding—as if he'd shed some mask he'd been wearing all along.
I stared at the symbols but shook my head slowly.
"It's a time matrix," he snapped, diving into a confusing lecture full of vocabulary only Star Swirl would recognize—paradoxes, quantum loops…
He spoke of it with such appreciation, like it were some holy artifact. But all I felt was cold creeping into my heart.
He went on and on about his grand plan—how he was going to "fix" everything, how he was going to "set things right." I didn't undersand half of what he was saying, but one thing was clear: he intended to use this time matrix, and me, as part of his sick game.
My gaze shifts back to the glowing blue device in the human's hand.
A chrono-disruptor. The only magical item that is able to wipe the living from history itself. I've seen what it can do. I tested it on a fly once, long ago, right in front of me. One minute it was buzzing around, an annoying little speck, the next… gone. Not simply dead. Erased. As if it never existed at all.
He’s tried to kill me before, yes. But never like this.
Poison was the first attempt. A colorless, odorless liquid slipped into my tea. I didn’t drink it, of course. I had felt the dark magic clinging to it. He was furious when I calmly poured the poisoned tea onto a bed of lilies.
They wilted on contact, blackened and shriveled.
He moved on to sharper objects after that little display. Enchanted blades forged in dragon fire, needles tipped with rare poisons from the deepest caves of the Griffin kingdom. Each attempt was more elaborate, more desperate than the last.
I close my eyes, trying to shut out the pain, the fear. My mind drifts back to that day on the cliff. The wind whipping through my mane, the dizzying height beneath my hooves. I can still feel his hands on... on my back, ready to push.
Ponies had gathered below, oblivious to the danger. They waved, cheered. A celebration of some sort. I plastered on a smile, waved back. All the while, I heard him behind me, whispering threats.
"One little shove," he'd said. "That's all it would take."
I'd stood there, frozen. Not from fear—no, I could have flown away easily. But my subjects below... if they saw their princess fleeing in terror, what would that do to their faith? To their hope?
So I stayed. Smiled. Pretended everything was fine.
He didn't push me that day. Maybe he had gotten bored. Maybe he realized a fall wouldn't be enough to end me. Either way, I trotted away unharmed. Physically, at least.
The human's presence has affected me in ways I can't fully comprehend. It's not just the physical attempts on my life, though those have been distressing enough. No, it's the mental toll, the constant fear and uncertainty that eats my mind like a starving timberwolf.
I find myself second-guessing every decision, every word. Is this what he wants me to do? Am I playing right into his hooves—no, hands? I can't even think straight anymore.
And the worst part? I can't tell anypony. Not Luna, not Twilight, not even my most trusted assistants. How could I burden them with this? They look to me for strength, for guidance. If they knew their princess was slowly unraveling, that she jumps at every shadow... no, I can't do that to them.
The human's voice snaps me back to the present. I open my eyes. He's pacing now, the chrono-disruptor pulsing in his hand.
"You know," he says, almost conversationally, "I've been thinking about our little adventures together. All those failed attempts... they weren't really failures, were they?"
I stay silent, watching him warily.
"No," he continues, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "They were experiments. Each one taught me something new about you. Your strengths. Your weaknesses."
He stops pacing, turning to face me fully.
"And now," he says, holding up the device, "I finally have what I need to finish this."
I kept telling myself it was a phase, a madness that would pass. He was new to our world, after all, overwhelmed by the sheer power of Equestrian magic. He just needed time to adjust, to understand that true power resided not in brute force but in harmony, in compassion.
How foolish I was.
The chrono-disruptor hums again. It sounds like a thousand wasps trapped inside a glass jar.
“I almost feel bad about this." He states, his voice deceptively calm.
He pauses, waiting for a reaction I refuse to give.
"Almost," he repeats, a cruel smile spreading across his face. “But then I remember what you did to me.”
He leans closer, the blue light from the device reflecting in his eyes, turning them cold and sharp as ice shards.
“You took everything from me,” he whispers, his voice raw with a hatred that makes my heart clench. “My memories, my past, my very identity."
I stare at him, my heart pounding in my chest. Memories? Past? Identity? What is he talking about? I've never taken anything from him. If anything, I've given him everything—a home, a purpose, a chance at a new life.
But as I look into his eyes, I see no trace of the human I thought I knew. There's only hatred there, a deep, rotting wound that has consumed him from the inside out.
"You're wrong," I manage to say, my voice rough from disuse. "I never took anything from you. I tried to help you, to show you the magic of friendship and harmony."
He laughs then, a harsh, grating sound that feels unsettling. "Friendship? Harmony? You really believe in that nonsense, don't you?"
He steps back, twirling the chrono-disruptor in his hand like a toy. "Well, let me tell you something, Princess. Where I come from, there's no such thing as friendship. There's only power, and those too weak to seek it."
He's moving around the room now. I try to follow him, but my vision is blurry, my head still throbbing from whatever he used to knock me out.
"You know what I think?" he says, his voice taking on a mocking tone. "I think you're afraid. Afraid of what I represent, of the truth I bring with me."
He stops in front of me, leaning down until his face is inches from mine. "You're not a princess, Celestia. You're just a pathetic, weak creature clinging to a fantasy world that doesn't exist."
I want to argue with him, to tell him that he's wrong, that the magic of friendship is real and powerful and true. But the words stick in my throat, choked by the fear that maybe, just maybe, he's right.
Maybe I am weak. Maybe I have been clinging to a fantasy, a dream of a world that can never be.
I look down at the ground.
I've failed. Failed my little ponies, failed my sister, failed myself.
And he's right. I am afraid. Afraid of the darkness that I see in his eyes, a darkness that seems to mirror the growing emptiness inside of me. It's an echo of a time before the Crystal Empire, before Luna and I took on the responsibility of raising both sun and moon. Back then… it was a much simpler time.
Maybe even a happier one?
A strange, detached part of me—the part that remembers a thousand years of sunrises, of royal duties—wonders if this is how it ends.
No grand battle. No heroic sacrifice. Just me, lying here helpless, forgotten in a dusty chamber deep beneath my own castle, as the very fabric of time unravels around me.
Is this what he wants? To see me broken, defeated?
I've always looked forward to yesterday. To the memories of a simpler time, when the weight of the world didn't rest so heavily on my shoulders.
But now, as I lie here in this cold, dark chamber, those memories feel like a cruel joke. A reminder of everything I've lost, everything that's been taken from me.
The human stands over me, the chrono-disruptor pulsing in his hand. I can feel the power emanting from it.
He's speaking again, his voice a distant buzz in my ears.
I try to focus on his words, to make sense of the madness spilling from his lips. But it's hard.
Is this what it feels like to lose one's mind? To feel the foundations of everything you've ever known crumble beneath you?
I can't escape the truth of what's happening.
He's going to erase me. Not just kill me, but erase me from existence itself. As if I never was, never will be.
And the worst part? There's nothing I can do to stop it. My magic is gone, my strength faded. I'm useless, unable to even lift my head from the cold stone floor.
Will any of it matter? Will anything I've ever done, ever been, ever existed at all?
I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.
Except that I'm tired. So very, very tired.
The human's voice fades.
In this moment of quiet, I find myself drifting through memories. Not the grand, sweeping moments of history that I've witnessed, but the small, precious memories that've defined my existence.
The soft nuzzle of my sister when we were both young. The proud smile on Twilight's face when she mastered a particularly difficult spell. The laughter of foals playing in Ponyville's square, oblivious to the weight of the world around them.
These snippets of love, of simple contentment – they're what truly matter, aren't they? Not the power, not the throne, not the endless cycle of sun and moon. Just... life. In all its messy, beautiful complexity.
I wonder, as the chrono-disruptor's hum grows louder, if erasing me from time will erase these moments too. Will the ponies I've loved, the lives I've touched, simply cease to be? Or will they continue on, never knowing what – who – they've lost?
Perhaps it's better this way. No more burden of immortality, no more weight of responsibility crushing down on me. Just... peace. Oblivion.
The human's fingers tighten on the device. I can feel the air around us growing thick, heavy with potential energy. Time itself seems to hold its breath.
In this final moment, I find myself thinking of Luna. My dear sister, who knows the pain of isolation, of darkness. Will she feel the shift in the fabric of reality as I'm torn from it?
I want to call out to her, but my voice fails me.
The device pulses once, twice. The human's face twists into a victorious grin.
I exhale slowly, preparing for the end.
And then...
A flicker. A spark of... something. Deep within me, where my magic once resided. It's faint, barely there, but...
A blinding light engulfs everything.
