Friendship is Forever: Redux

Chapters

Chapter 1: The Garden
Chapter 2: The Visitor
Chapter 3: The Tower
Chapter 4: The Herald
Chapter 5: The Heartache

Chapter 1: The Garden

Friendship is Forever: Redux
Chapter 1: The Garden

Twilight glanced about as she cantered down the vast hallway, past sweeping panoramas of stained glass and under chandeliers whose crystals tinkled gently as air currents brushed past. The day was young and beautiful, the sunlight a warm embrace that clung gently to her side at each window she passed.

No one had told she was allowed to be here, but then again, no one had told her she wasn’t. The echo of her hoofsteps sounded furtive and hesitant; the castle walls seemed to bear down on her with their disdainful gaze.

She passed a huge archway into the gardens. Immediately, she was assailed by a panorama of colors, smells and shapes that demanded her attention. Birdsong and the swarming hum of dense life reverberated through her. She found her senses overwhelmed by constant signals: the intense, sweet smell of blooming flowers; the chatter of chipmunks; some unidentifiable tang in the air; and the rustling sound of gently swaying branches—all of which loosely translated to I am alive. She sneezed.
She slipped through the earthy underbelly of a hedge and found herself the shade of a stout, curvy tree. It was planted neatly in the center of a large, dirt circle, half-surrounded by a curved section of the hedge. Some instinct, some warm sensation spreading upwards and outwards from her hooves told her she wouldn’t be found here.
She lay down on the soft, fine soil, watching periodic hints of sunlight filter down through the leaves above like knowing winks. From the branches dangled bright red fruits she had never seen before, all bobbing in the wind so hypnotically that she was surprised when she found herself standing upright, craning her neck upwards.

I shouldn’t eat those, said a nagging voice in the back of her mind as she hopped up, placing her hooves against the tree’s wide truck. I don’t have permission, she thought as she leaned hard against the tree, straining her forelegs in an effort to shake the fruit down. They probably belong to someone, she realized as she narrowed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and drew deep from the well of magic inside of her. I’ll get in trouble, she reminded herself as a fruit separated from a branch with a satisfying snap, drifting gently downwards into her open mouth. I should have asked first, she lamented as she took the biggest bite she could manage, savoring the impossibly sweet juices as they burst through the fruit’s broken skin. It was the best thing she had ever tasted.

The world disappeared as she closed her eyes and took another bite, then another. Before she could fully process what was happening, the fruit became a ravaged, forlorn core resting in the dirt at her hooves.

She shivered. A high wind whistled somewhere far away, and a cold sound rang through the air—a high ringing distinctly not of the garden, but of some distant, austere consciousness chiding her for what she’d just done. She slunk away from the tree, stepping carefully around a bed of blue roses and onto the grassy path. A cloud passed overhead and she shivered as the sun’s warmth suddenly faded.

A strange anxiety took her as she left the flowers and trees behind, taking a hedge-walled path around the corner. Up ahead, there was a weathered marble fountain with an octagonal base, surrounded by patches of meticulously manicured shrubbery.

Twilight’s ears perked up as she spotted something white sitting in the grass, up against the fountain. She trotted closer, gradually resolving the nebulous shape into a rabbit. She slowed down, hoping not to startle it. It held oddly still, and she quickly realized something was wrong.

She came to a stop looking down on the rabbit, which was lying on its side with its eyes open and its legs held stiff. She stomped on the ground, thinking to wake it up, but it remained motionless. The wind reached a chilling, mournful pitch. She felt her heart beat faster but didn’t understand why.

She nudged the rabbit gently with her magic, but only managed to make it flop over. She leaned down to examine it closer, but its soft white fur yielded no answers.

“Twilight! There you are!” She jumped, scrambling away from the rabbit and bumping into the fountain. As she spun around, she saw an alicorn with a brilliant white coat approach from one of the hedge paths.

“Princess!” she gasped. “I didn’t mean to…” She trailed off, her heart and mind racing. How much did Celestia know? Had she seen her eat the fruit? What was going to happen now?

“I’m sorry,” said Celestia, “I didn’t mean to startle you. It just occurred to me that while you’re living in Canterlot, you might need some help finding your way around the castle…”

Celestia grew quiet as her eyes fell on the rabbit. Twilight thought she heard a soft sigh.

“There’s something wrong with the rabbit,” she said. “It won’t move.”

Celestia bit her lip. Twilight’s stomach sank as she wondered whether she’d be blamed for the rabbit’s state.

“It looks like it’s passed on.”

“On to where?” She wondered why the princess sounded so sad.

“I mean it’s dead.”

Twilight cocked her head to the side. “What does that mean?”

Celestia looked down at her for a long time. Twilight looked at the ground, shuffling uncomfortably. “It’s done living,” the princess finally said. “It can’t move anymore.”

Twilight frowned. “It must be really scared. I was stomping the ground to wake it up and all it could do was listen to me. It couldn’t run away.”

Celestia shook her head. “It can’t hear anything, either. It can’t see anything, feel anything, or do anything at all.”

Twilight blinked. None of this made any sense. She tried to picture everything going dark and quiet, but it was more than that. She imagined falling asleep, but it was more than that too. How could anyone experience nothing?

“How long will he stay like that?” she asked.

Once again, Celestia took a long time to answer. “Forever. There’s nothing anypony can do.”
Twilight peered into the creature’s glassy, dark eye. Is this my fault? “Why would something like that happen?”
“Maybe it just got too old.”
“What do you mean, princess?”
“When things get too old, they die. It’s a different length of time for each living thing, but everything dies eventually.”
Twilight’s coast bristled as a sinking suspicion crept through her veins like some insidious poison. “What about ponies?”
“Even ponies.”

The wind slowed to silence, and the cold ringing sound echoed through the garden once more, prompting Celestia to scan the skies for its source. Twilight felt something rise up inside her, something ancient, terrible and instinctive passed on by all who had lived before her. This was a new emotion, distinct from ordinary sadness or fear. She felt deeply sick inside, instilled with a weight that would surely bear down on her until her own death.

Up above, the clouds passed and the sun shone down once again, but Twilight could barely feel its warmth.

“It’s not something you should worry about right now,” Celestia assured her. “You’re young, and you still have many, many years to live.”

“But I’ll die eventually?”

“It won’t be for a long time. Longer than you can imagine.”

Was living longer than she could imagine the same as living forever? Twilight wasn’t sure.

“What about you?”
Celestia looked away, up towards the sky. “Well… I won’t die. At least, I don’t think I will. For thousands of years I haven’t gotten any older than I am now.”
Why would Celestia live forever while she had to die? As Twilight took a deep, shuddering breath, she noticed that the garden no longer smelled like anything.

“Come along,” said Celestia, turning away from the rabbit. “There are plenty of other new things for you to see today, and no reason you should dwell on this.”

Twilight glanced over her shoulder as the Princess led her back into the stone hallways. The rabbit seemed to stare at her forlornly, imploring her to stay and make it better. Was it just going to lie there forever, or would someone move it? When she died, would everyone just walk away from her body and forget about her? What could she do to become like Celestia and live forever?

The air inside the castle felt cold and stale. As Celestia expounded upon the fantastic branches of magic she’d be learning about in Canterlot, Twilight tried to ignore the persistent knot in her stomach.

Chapter 2: The Visitor

She flapped her wings furiously, scraping the grass below with her flailing legs. As she crested the top of the vast ridge, there was a brief and exhilarating moment in which the ground disappeared and she felt and heard nothing but her heart and wings beating in synchronization. Despite her best efforts, she dove downwards, nose first, swarming stars flooding her vision as she tumbled roughly down a steep, dusty slope whose presence she hadn’t anticipated. As she struggled to slow down, she was vaguely aware of scrapes and bruises accumulating from the confused flurry of falling and rolling. Finally, she braced her hoof against a solid patch of ground and began skidding to halt, flopping onto her side just as she reached level ground.

She felt hot, angry welts throb on her sides, back, and legs, but as she jerked around on the ground, examining herself, she didn’t notice much blood.

“Are you alright?” called a voice from above. She craned her neck and looked up at the rough, jagged slope she’d just unceremoniously negotiated: from this distance, it seemed a stark, barren scar on the land, replete with rocks and dry root systems poking out at haphazard angles. Up at the top of the ridge stood a sapphire pony with disheveled cobalt hair.

“I’m fine, Luna.”

The younger alicorn shuffled sideways down the slope, halting every few seconds to catch her balance. A cloud of dust stirred up around her, forcing her to squint. “Why did you try to do a thing like that?”

Celestia pushed herself up onto her hooves, shaking off copious amounts of dust. “I thought there would be someplace to land.” She looked around. The slope had been part of a massive crater, barren save for scattered, dry shrubs.

“A shooting star!” said Luna. Celestia turned to her. “It’s one of those stars that fly through the sky. It must have landed here and made this hole.”

“Then where’s the star?”

Luna shrugged. Celestia looked towards the center of the crater and spotted something small and black poking out of the ground. She started to flap her wings, but thought better of it and walked over to the mysterious object, followed by Luna.

It was a thin, rectangular rod, its surface smooth and shiny, as though unable to abide even a single speck of the surrounding dust. It protruded less than a yard from the ground, but might have extended any distance underground. Celestia might have imagined it, but as she leaned down to examine it, it seemed to emit a chilling, sterile hum, like music made not only by something metallic, but for something metallic.

“We should leave,” said Luna. “Whatever that thing is, it isn’t good.”

“How can you tell?”

“It makes me feel sick.”

Celestia couldn’t say she disagreed, but she was intent on understanding this strange new visitor in her world. She sniffed it, but it smelled like nothing. She tapped it with her hoof, and the hum became louder and angrier, a shrill ring of something that did not want to be touched. Both ponies stepped back. They watched silently, breathlessly as the thing vibrated softer, becoming quiet once more.

“I’m going to try to see what’s under it.” Celestia tentatively reached out with her magic, brushing the thing gently. When there was no response, she grasped it and began pulling it upwards, all while taking measured steps backwards. The thing responded with a violent jerk, tugging downwards with terrifying strength. Celestia braced her hooves hard against the ground and tried with all her might to slide the thing up, but her efforts exhausted her and her forelegs collapsed as the black rod slid into the ground, leaving such a smooth covering of dirt that there was no sign it had existed.

The two ponies stared at the same spot on the ground for a long time. Finally, Luna turned around and began climbing out of the crater.

“How do you think it got there?” asked Celestia, trotting up alongside her sister.

Luna shook her head. “I don’t know, but I’m glad it’s gone now.”

“We should ask Mother about it. Maybe she’ll know.”

They passed through the vast, grassy hills they’d come from, into the dense, cool mists that gathered near the edge of the forest. Most of the year, brilliant sunlight filtered through the canopy, spreading scattered, bright freckles across the ferns. Now, however, the fog obscured everything but their immediate surroundings.

Luna let out a strange hissing sound. Confused, Celestia turned to see her exhaling slowly but loudly, her wide, crossed eyes intently focused on her frosting breath. “Why does it do that?” she asked.

“Because there’s fog.”

“Why is there fog?”

“Because it’s cold.”

“Why is it cold?”

“I don’t know. It just is.”

As it grew steadily darker, Celestia worried that they were getting off-course. The familiar landmarks were growing fewer and far between, and each new gulch, clearing and stream seemed like one she’d never seen before.

“Wait,” said Luna. She stood almost completely still, twitching her ears and darting her eyes about.

“What…”

“Shh.”

Celestia followed her lead, looking and listening. She shivered as she detected a faint ringing sound—the very same that the black rod had emitted. This time, however, it sounded father away, but louder, as though it were echoing from a great monolith on a hill somewhere.

She whipped her head around at the sound of a loud crunch coming from the brush. Luna ducked behind her with a sharp intake of breath. Out in the fog, there appeared the faintest outline of something the size and shape of an adult pony, looking straight at them.

Luna sprung back into the pony’s view and started walking forward. “Mother!” she called, moving her head about as she tried to pierce into the fog. Celestia held back, sensing that something was amiss. The pony began to step backwards, disappearing from view completely and prompting Luna to enter a full gallop until she, too, disappeared into the fog. Celestia prepared to chase after her echoing hoofsteps, but Luna quickly returned, looking confused and afraid.

“What happened?”

Luna shook her head. “It wasn’t Mother.”

“Then who was it?”

“I don’t know. Just a black pony with blue eyes. Whoever it was, he ran away when I got close.”

“How do you know it was a he?”

“His face was shaped different from Mother’s. He was a boy pony, just like there are boy animals.”

They looked at each other for several seconds, silently sharing their helpless apprehension.

“Maybe it was someone nice,” Celestia offered without believing herself. Luna shrugged and set off down the path at a faster clip than before.

Celestia cantered up alongside her. “Whoever it was probably ran away because he didn’t know if we were nice. Imagine thinking you were the only pony and seeing two little ones.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“Maybe if we see him again, we can introduce ourselves. Then we can all go back to the castle, and Mother can stay with him so she won’t be alone when we go out.”

“That would be nice.” They stepped carefully across the slippery, round rocks of a recently-dried riverbed. The trees here were short and thin, so there was a little more light to see by.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

Luna glanced at Celestia. “That pony gave me a bad feeling. I felt sick, like when we were standing next to that black thing in ground.”

“You don’t know what that feeling means. Maybe you just don’t like black things.”

Luna said nothing. After another few minutes, they spotted a wide, yellow landscape through the trees and began galloping towards it, flattening ferns and snapping branches as they dashed out towards the pinkish, fading light on the horizon. Finally, the burst out through the tree-line, immediately disoriented as they strode away from the fog and into a sea of marigolds.

“We’re close to home,” urged Celestia, running towards the edge of the flowers, where she stepped onto a familiar dirt path. Together, the two sisters galloped down it, around a large, familiar butte and towards the sturdy stone castle rapidly coming into view. The parapets stood proudly as ever, the flags fluttered softly in the wind, and what remained of the sunlight struck the roof at a dazzling angle. It was all a testament to the only living things who knew how to transform stone, wood and metal into works of wonder, to dredge memories and meaning up from the earth.
Celestia slowed down to catch her breath as she crossed the drawbridge across the moat, while Luna bounded on ahead, through the archway.

As Celestia caught up, her entire being immediately flooded with the kind of buzzing warmth and comfort that could only be found in the place she called home.

“Mother!” Luna’s voice echoed down the spacious hallway, bouncing off the mighty granite pillars. “We’re home! Where are you?”

Celestia made for the door on the far-left side. “She’s probably out looking for us. Unless you want to get lost, just stay here until she gets back.”

Luna pouted. “What if she doesn’t want to come back until she finds us?”

“She knows we can get back by ourselves. Even if it had gotten dark, we would still have been fine. I know how to make light, remember?” Celestia tilted her head down and lit her horn for a few seconds.

Luna didn’t seem placated, but she followed Celestia down the side hallway to their room. Against the left wall was a wide shelf stacked with statuettes: a golden rabbit, a brass snake, a silver apple, a ruby fish, and countless others that Celestia couldn’t yet name.
As Celestia lay on her bed with her head up, Luna went immediately to the silver-paned window above her own bed, planting her hooves on the sill and watching the last few minutes of the sunset.
“We should build a castle someday, Tia,” she murmured in a far-off voice.
“I don’t see why not.”
“And we should connect it to this one through an underground tunnel.”
“If you want to build something really big, it’ll take a long time.”
“We’ll just build a little every day for a hundred years.”
Celestia found that an odd idea to wrap her head around—she wasn’t even a hundred years old yet. What would it be like to exist for that long? For that matter, what about the next hundred years after that? She’d have to learn to count to higher numbers before she could know how old she and Luna would become.
Suddenly, Luna stiffened. She turned to Celestia with wide eyes and whispered “There’s somepony outside."
Celestia rushed to the window. A horned shadow drifted across the grass below the moonlight, stretched and distorted from a source too far away to identify. “It’s the same pony from before,” said Luna, her voice shaking. Her eyes started to water. “He’s here to hurt us. I know it.”
“Don’t say that.”
“He followed us home. It’s not fair.”
The shadow melted into the darkness of the path. Celestia squinted and saw the pony approach the drawbridge.
“We have to keep him out,” said Luna. The two of them dashed for the door and out into the main hall. Celestia slowed briefly, and then swallowed her hesitation as she charged towards the doors. As the two ponies were halfway down the hall, the doors swung open without warning, stopping them in their tracks.
“Celestia! Luna! There you are!”
“Mother!” Luna resumed dashing forward, this time beaming widely. Celestia advanced at a slower clip, still in shock from the moment’s intensity. Their mother tucked away her wings and embraced Luna.
“I was so worried. I thought you were both still in the forest.”
Luna’s eyes widened at the mention of the forest. “There was a pony in the forest. I don’t know who it was, but he ran away when I walked up to him.”
Her mother stood up straight, tensing immediately. “A pony? What did he look like?”
“He was black, with blue eyes.”
“Are you positive about this?”
Luna hesitated. “It was foggy and he stayed far away, but I think that’s what he looked like.”
Celestia began to feel disoriented by the gathering darkness, so she lit her horn as she stepped forward, alongside Luna. “There was something else, too—a strange black stick in the ground. It sunk down when we tried to touch it.”
Her mother’s expression unnerved her—it looked like fear, but since when was she afraid of anything?
“Mother,” said Luna, “do you know a pony who looks like that?”
She tightened her lips and shook her head. “I wish I understood, but I don’t.”
Luna’s jaw dropped. “But you know everything!”
“Not everything, Luna. This pony must have come from somewhere very far away. I wish I knew how and why he came here.”
“He made me feel sick!” Luna said, her voice suddenly escalating in pitch and volume. “When I got close, I felt this bad feeling in my stomach, like I was going to get hurt. I don’t think he’s here to do anything nice.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” said Celestia. “Maybe he seemed scary because we don’t know anything about him.”
Their mother shook her head. “I think Luna may be right. For now, I want you both to stay close to the castle no matter what. I’ll find out what our new visitor wants”—she paused and swallowed, her voice growing slightly shaky—“and if he’s friendly, only then may you speak to him. Do you understand?” They both nodded.
…

That night, as they settled down to sleep, Celestia found her eyes wandering towards the window. The moonlight illuminated wide swaths of grass, but the trees cast long, impenetrable shadows in which ambiguous hints of motion seemed to flicker. Just as she fell asleep, Celestia thought she saw a pair of fierce blue eyes against the inside of her eyelids.

Chapter 3: The Tower

The cold, dry air seemed to buzz and crackle with a silent electrical tension around Twilight as she took steady, purposeful steps down the road, looking straight ahead the entire time. Her friends flanked her on either side, but she said nothing to them—for what was there to say?—and she refrained from looking at them—for how was she supposed to look?

Ponyville had never been a particularly busy town, but today, a strange silence pervaded the streets. Distant chatter, the hoofbeats of fillies who galloped rather than walked, the little bells that vendors sometimes rang to draw attention to their wares, and a hundred other noises Twilight had always taken for granted were now absent. Even the birds sounded subdued in their chirping, as though afraid they might offend.

In the corners of her eyes, Twilight noticed that ponies all over town were milling about uncertainly, their passage a feeble semblance of normal hoof traffic. As she and her friends neared an intersection, she saw a group of three earth ponies moving towards them. After a few steps, the pale yellow one in front stopped, looking confused and embarrassed, turned around, and led her friends down the street to the right.

“That’s the right way, isn’t it?” asked Rarity. It was the first time any of them had spoken in nearly ten minutes. Twilight looked at her, momentarily befuddled as she made sense of the sudden words.

“I think,” she said slowly. As rare as occasion was to visit the Ponyville cemetery, Twilight had a hard time convincing herself she didn’t know where it was. She’d seen it countless times from adjacent districts. Still, just as dead were a strange and unfamiliar folk, so too was their abode—and she intended it keep it that way.

The six of them entered a larger flow of traffic as they neared the cemetery, melding into a trickling river of slow-moving ponies. The sound of many soft hoofsteps drowned out all else, leaving Twilight in a kind of trance. She arrived in the cemetery well before she could see it; untamed, disheveled grass swarmed around her hooves and a tombstone made its presence known less than fifteen feet away from her. Judging by how tightly packed the crowd was, it seemed clear that Ponyville’s living population vastly outnumbered its dead.

The ponies all fanned out, organizing themselves around a central location where a coffin lay next to an open, empty grave. Twilight’s mouth twitched as she realized the coffin was open and saw the body sitting inside. She looked away before too many details could filter through her eyes. All she registered was a vague white shape that no pony was supposed to see.

From somewhere within the depths of the crowd, a wizened old grey pony shuffled forth, looking only a little less lost and bleak than the rest of the congregation. As he took his place next to the coffin, he adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, and spoke:

“We are gathered here today to mourn the passing and celebrate the life of Alabaster Crackle.” Twilight racked her brain, trying to remember who that was. “He graced all of our lives, spreading cheer and warming all our hearts through his music. I daresay that Ponyville will be quieter and lonelier for his absence.” Twilight glanced at Pinkie Pie, who merely shrugged. Didn’t she know every pony in Ponyville?

“As we lay him to rest, let us always remember how he moved us, how he made us smile, how he helped make our days bright and full. Alabaster, you shall be missed.”

Two petite pegasi stepped forward to lower the coffin into the grave. Twilight suddenly became aware of the furtive, disordered glances spreading throughout the crowd. Each pony seemed to be scanning all the others—but then, what were they looking for? What was the elusive information they all sought?

A few ponies at the fringes of the crowd began to disperse, signaling to the others that they now had permission to do the same. Twilight followed her friends in a slight daze, struggling to reorient herself as she returned to the streets. They meandered with no particular destination in mind, no goal except to distance themselves from the crowd, which reminded them of the funeral, which reminded them of the body, and so on.

“So,” said Rainbow Dash slowly, “who was that?”

Rarity’s eyes widened in that particular way which communicates either extreme shock or extreme agreement. “I was hoping one of you would know! I mean, I didn’t want to say anything in case you did, but I was so worried going there that someone would find out I didn’t know the deceased, and really, things could’ve gone terribly for anyone who didn’t, because just imagine being singled out as the one pony who had never even met Alabaster!”

“Imagine bein’ the one who had, is more like it,” said Applejack. “Didn’t y’all notice how confused everypony looked? Not a one of ‘em was mournin’ or cryin’ at all.”

Pinkie Pie jumped in. “So nopony knew him? How is that even possible? How come I didn’t know him?”

“Mr. Waddle knew him,” mumbled Fluttershy from the back of the group. “He said something about music.”

“But what instrument did he play?” asked Pinkie. “When was the last time we heard music in Ponyville?”

Everypony stayed silent, deep in thought. Twilight shivered. Was this simply what happened when a pony died? Did everyone who knew Alabaster suddenly forget him, his memory leaving the town just as his mind had left his brain? Maybe they all knew who he was before the funeral, but some dark magic had made them forget. The thought lingered for a moment before she dismissed it as superstition.
…

Some time later, she found herself in the library, hunched over a book, reading the same paragraph on transmutation spells again and again. The glare from her window shone in her eyes, so she moved a few feet to her right, only to find that the sun had caught up with her a few minutes later. She felt a twinge of guilt at returning to her daily affairs so readily after the funeral—but what was she supposed to do?

She heard a clatter and turned her head to see Spike wrestling with a pan too large for him to carry, half-carrying it and half-tripping over it.

“Spike,” she said, “is there something wrong with me if I went to a pony’s funeral, but didn’t feel sad that he died?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a trick question? You know I’m no good at paradoxes, right?”

She sighed. “It’s just that no one there seemed to miss him. None of us even knew who he was. It felt wrong, like we were just being polite to him without any sincerity.”

“Then why did you go? I mean, I didn’t, and I feel fine.”

She got up and started pacing. “We were supposed to go, I guess. Ponyville is small enough to be a tight-knit community… at least, in theory.”

Spike flung out his arms. “Well, forget about theory! If he wanted the town to know who he was, it wouldn’t have been hard. Maybe if it had been up to him, he wouldn’t have wanted a big funeral. Ever think of that?”

“I guess you have a point. After all, it’s not like he’s upset about what happened, right?”

The afternoon was filtering into sunset, and the patches of light from the windows took on lazy orange hues. It was as if the sun itself were shrugging at Alabaster in a jaded sort of way, suggesting on some vague level that life would go on without him, that these things just happened. What was anyone supposed to do?

…

That night, as she lay in bed, Twilight felt a cold, clear stillness pervade her room. The air held its breath, the moon stared through her window without blinking, and the shadows tensed like wildcats. Light and darkness met in sheer contrast in elongated lines across the floor and walls, cast through windows that glistened in that sterile, unpleasant way which is only possible in the dead of night. As she yawned, a ringing sound expanded inside her ears. She wondered absently if she was dreaming, and then she promptly fell asleep.

The ringing sound followed her out across time and space, warbling frenetically as she touched down with a satisfying crunch. She stood at the apex of a stretching snowscape, with pure white hills stretching downwards and outwards in all directions from her position, all ending at white-capped tree-lines. The day was clear, and a bedazzling sheen issued from all the points of contact between sun and snow.

Twilight was surprised to see a set of hoofprints in front of her, leading off into the distance. As she stepped carefully around them, she realized that they seemed to have been left by somepony who had started near her and walked backwards.

She leaned down and followed them down towards a wide, open path through the trees. All was silent, save for the constant crunching sound as she trudged through the fresh snow. She crossed a wooden bridge over a frozen stream which reflected darkened, distorted images of the branches up above. On an ecological scale, it was still a couple months early for life to be awake.

She rounded a sharp corner with a sense of growing apprehension. The path broadened out into a great clearing, with a sturdy stone tower standing in its center. As her eyes slowly moved up it and fell upon a massive, golden bell at the top, the ringing sound in her ears abruptly stopped.

She looked back down at the hoofprints, unsurprised to see them lead directly the tower door. As she made her way towards it, she reached out with her magic, creaking it open with excruciating slowness. By the time she’d reached the base of the tower, the door was open just wide enough for her to slip through.

The change in atmosphere was immediate and refreshing. Cool, ambient music wafted in through cracks in the floor and ceiling, and the bell began to toll in time. Tiny, scintillating particles swirled around, iridescent lights entered through the tall, tinted windows, and everything gave off a deliciously slow sense of intense, purposeful rhythm that Twilight couldn’t help but be enthralled.

She began stepping in time with the bell, ascending a clockwise spiral staircase up and around the column of swaying, particulate light running up the tower’s center. Each step seemed to land with a supreme significance, echoing down into some hollow place below. After what felt like hours, she neared a huge wooden door at the top, its ring-shaped handle a good five feet above her head. The music reached a crescendo, the light intensified, and her eyes became wide and watery. The door let out a loud, dusty groan that bordered on a roar as she began to open it. The steps on which she stood seemed to vibrate furiously until she released her magical grip on the handle and resumed walking.

She found herself back outside, atop the tiled walkway surrounding the bell. As she circled around, she saw something that made her jump back. A black shape, framed starkly against the snowy panorama, was standing on the opposite side of the walkway.

She crouched down and peeked under the bell, hoping to observe this dark interloper without being noticed herself. She counted four hooves, and realized that this was the pony she’d been following. She slunk cautiously around, keeping low and close to the bell as she approached him. As she reached her destination, however, she saw nopony standing there. Thinking he’d gone around in the same direction, she turned around—only to be frozen in place by two brilliant blue eyes, no more than a foot away, boring into her with supernatural ferocity as unsteady, backwards music started playing somewhere inside her skull…

Chapter 4: The Herald

Out across the sprawling forests distant mountains, through a thin mist creeping in with the sunset, a speck of purest white began to shine, peeking over the horizon, glimpsed first and foremost by a pony standing atop a stone tower reaching out into the open air from the highest point of Castle Canterlot. The pony watched, unblinking, waves of silent but intense energy rippling out from her position and into the open air. Tense whispers shuddered through the air as sublime, cosmic chords echoed across the land.

Shimmering, iridescent ribbons of light issued from her horn, slithering away into the darkness like lustrous snakes as their reverberations traveled out into the atmosphere. All throughout the play of light, magic and sound, the distant white glimmer rose in increments of miles that appeared as fractions of inches. Soon it was above the mist, clearly visible as a bright pearl, framing vast stretches of long shadows with its pale light.

Luna squinted, withdrawing some her tendrils of magic from the night sky. As the moon approached its proper position, she thought she heard some distant, shrill cry. It grew steadily louder until an icy shudder of recognition passed through her, forcing her to release her grip on the moon completely. She knew what that sound was, but she couldn’t yet accept it.

The ancient and terrible ringing around her was soon joined by a dizzying roar from within her ears. She galloped and stumbled towards the edge of the balcony, flew and flounders in spirals to the ground, and made for a large and ornate door leading out of the courtyard she’d landed in.

Her dread intensified as she passed through the moonlit stone corridors and the sound grew louder. She wondered how it was that the hallways hadn’t flooded with a rush of screaming ponies, impelled by their deepest animal instincts to flee from the clarion call of the cruel and the unnatural. Or had they already escaped?

She rushed down a flight of stairs into the musty air of the forgotten passageways below the castle proper. As she left the reach of the moonlight, her horn became her only source of light, bobbing as she ran, sending her eyes flashes of dilapidated stone walls and dusty tapestries. The sound began to warble slightly, almost as if it were coughing on the ancient dust her hooves had stirred up.

The pounding in her ears served as a drumbeat to the ringing as she stepped from a hall into a vast, cylindrical room, spanned by a spiral stairway wrapped around a sturdy central pillar of stone which extended downwards some fifty yards into pitch darkness. Luna descended, trying to ignore the increasingly complex fluctuations in the ringing, the unsettling almost-words murmured by an unspeakable idea performing a crude imitation of a living animal. The sound continued to grow quieter yet more horrible until she reached the bottom of the stairs, where spidery whispers scuttled through her brain, tickling memories she thought she’d buried.

She stood still, save for her uncontrollable shaking. Before her, through a gap in the pillar, she saw something thin, metallic and black sliding slowly up the inside of the pillar, vibrating angrily. Luna felt colder than she’d ever thought possible, as though she were a hundred miles from the warmth of the surface. She’d been certain that there was more time—centuries, at the very least—yet here before her was an unmistakable sign that ponykind’s oldest and greatest debt was soon to be collected.
…
The sunlight fell, hot and angry, upon Twilight’s face. She blinked rapidly, grimaced, and lifted her sheets to cover her face. She’d been in the middle of something important, but couldn’t remember what. There had been someone she was supposed to talk to, something of great importance she was meant to understand.

She was dimly aware of Spike walking past her doorway. “I meant to tell you something,” she groaned, slurring her words and thumping a hoof against her bed.

“What?”

She slithered out of bed, shaking her head in attempt to rattle her brain into wakefulness. “Nevermind. It was just a dream.”

It was a new day, and there was no need to remember yesterday’s funeral. No sense of guilt over previous apathy crept into Twilight’s stomach as she brushed her teeth. No sick, sinking sensation at the idea of her own eventual death weighed down on her heart, formed a lump in her throat, or caused her to shiver and bristle as she retrieved oats from her cupboard and ate them while looking out the window. No monumental sense of despair slithered through her veins, no anguish over the cruel joke of countless lives being born into a fantastic, wonderful world, only for each to disappear from it after the cosmic blink of an eye. Why should she feel gloomy on such a nice, sunny day?

She looked out at the ponies shuffling through the streets. They all seemed to have regained their usual hustle, carrying on with energy and confidence, yesterday’s unpleasant inconvenience completely forgotten. The scene was a collage of bright eyes, smiles and sunshine.

As she moved towards the door, a strained, muffled cough issued from behind her. She turned in time to see Spike double over before exhaling a puff of green smoke which materialized into a scroll. With her magic, she caught it in midair and unrolled it while stepping forward to read:
My dearest student Twilight,
Something urgent has come up. I must request that you and your friends meet me in Canterlot as soon as possible.
--Princess Celestia

Twilight blinked. Why wasn’t there more information? What business could be so urgent that it prevented the princess from writing more than a couple sentences?

“Spike, the princess needs our help in Canterlot. You stay here while I go find out what’s going on.” She galloped out the door, and into the sunlight, her mind racing with a hundred possible things that might have gone wrong.
…

Within minutes, she had all five of her pony friends following behind her. “All the princess said was that something urgent was happening,” she explained as they charged down the road towards Canterlot. In the distance, the castle dipped in and out of view as they navigated the contours of the land, rounding the grassy foothills of the sheer cliff-side into which the castle was built.

Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened. “I bet it was Discord! He must’ve escaped his stone prison and started spreading chaos again!”

Twilight glanced over at the serene countryside sweeping out around the mountain, the castle standing high and proud, the crystalline waters that fell in trickles and cascades down from the rocky heights above. “I don’t see any chaos.”

“Maybe was Queen Chrysalis!” shouted Pinkie Pie. “She must’ve snuck her spies into the castle, and now Celestia’s trying to figure out where they’re hiding!”

As she spoke, they all quickened their pace. “I sure hope not,” said Twilight, “but I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
…

As they rounded the final curve of the road and the castle came into view, Twilight began scanning the parapets for some sign anything amiss. She glanced at her friends, shrugged, and began leading the way up over the drawbridge and through the gold-framed aperture that served as the main entrance.

They entered the throne room to see Celestia gazing out one of the windows. When she noticed them, she strode towards them, her regal gait reminding all but Twilight to bow.

“I’m glad you’re all here,” she said, though there was an edge of uncertainty to her voice. “I have very grave news: an ancient force, locked away for millennia, will soon make itself known in Equestria, wreaking destruction and attempting to subjugate all of ponykind.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes narrowed. “Discord.”

Celestia shook her head. “I’m afraid this is a foe even more insidious than he was. Right now, our enemy is already somewhere in Equestria, with an appearance no different from any other pony.”

“Chrysalis!” exclaimed Pinkie, stomping her hoof. Again, Celestia shook her head.

“I don’t mean that this is a pony who can shape-shift at will. He has come to Equestria twice before, with a different appearance each time.” She strode over to the window, looking down the sheer cliff-side towards the warm, green vale that nestled Ponyville. “I’ve sent agents out to every neighboring city to monitor for unusual activity, but I’m afraid it may not be enough. That’s why I need your help.”

“You can count on us, Princess,” said Twilight. “We’ll use the Elements of Harmony to defeat him as soon as he makes himself known.”

“Actually, I’m hoping it won’t come to that. In order to be fully resurrected, this pony needs to gather three things he left behind the last time I defeated him. Even one or two could make him incredibly dangerous. However, because of their nature, I couldn’t store them in the castle, and I can’t abandon my post to retrieve them now.”

“We understand, Princess,” said Twilight. “We’ll do whatever it takes to bring back the artifacts.”

“I should warn you, all three are infused with dangerous and unpredictable magic. You should be ready for anything.”

Rainbow Dash saluted. “We’re prepared for danger, Princess. Just tell us where we need to go.”

Celestia nodded. “Follow me.”

She led them down a side hallway to a study filled with rows of bookcases on one side and a wide, oaken desk on the other. From amidst the dizzying collage of scrolls, cartographic instruments, yellowing tomes, and quills that covered the top of the desk, Celestia lifted up a large, heavily stylized map of Equestria.

“I’ve marked the last known locations of the artifacts on here,” she said as she magically rolled up the scroll and passed it to Twilight, who briefly examined it before tucking it into her saddlebag. “I’m not sure how much time we have left, but it would be best if you began preparing for your journey as soon as possible.”

Twilight nodded. “We won’t let you down.” Her friends chimed in their assent.

“Excellent. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish reviewing the records of the last… visitation.”

As they were on their way out, something struck Twilight—something about Celestia’s explanation had seemed rushed and incomplete. As she turned back towards the princess, her friends halted to watch her. “Princess!” she called.

Celestia peered out from within the study. “Yes, Twilight?”

“This ancient, evil being that’s going to attack Equestria… what is his name?”

“First of all, I’m not sure I would call him evil—just extremely dangerous. As for his name…” She hesitated, almost as though she needed a moment to remember—but why would that be? After a moment, she replied:

“Thunder Dasher.”

Twilight blinked. What kind of a name was that?

Chapter 5: The Heartache

The sun reached its apex above six ponies as they traveled downhill through the verdant pass, following a gentle stream whose winding convolutions indicated the path of least resistance to the edge of the vast plains that lay beyond the mountains. Their destination was clearly visible, but the immense distance demanded that they stop to eat along the way.

“I think we should look around and confirm where we are,” said Twilight as she retrieved the map from her saddlebags. Once it was laid out on a relatively dry and relatively flat patch of ground, she leaned down, located Canterlot, and began mentally tracing the path they’d taken through the foothills.

Rarity gave the map a quick glance in between unpacking their sandwiches. She stopped, letting one hover in midair as she did a double-take. “What’s that wing inside the red circle?” While she was distracted, Pinkie walked past her, grabbing the sandwich out of the air with her mouth.

“I assume we’re looking for something with a wing carved on it,” said Twilight, squinting at the place Rarity had indicated. “Or maybe a wing made from some kind of metal? It’s not really clear.”

“I was thinking of asking Celestia for more explanation,” said Fluttershy, “but she seemed like she was in such a hurry.”

Twilight shrugged. “If we’re still confused when we get there, we can always send Celestia a letter.”

They continued to study the map as they ate. Twilight observed that their path across the plains would lead them away from any main roads, out into a stretch of wilderness to the east. The wing, or whatever it was, seemed to be inside a large cave in north side of a large mountain. Scanning the rest of the map, she saw a second wing far to the north of Canterlot, atop the peak of one of the Crystal Mountains. “We should go there next,” she said, pointing to it. “It’s another wing, so we’ll know what to look for by then.”

Pinkie leaned down, squinting at the southern portion of the map as she swallowed the last of her sandwich. “What’s that thing there?”

Twilight slid the map towards herself, revealing the part that was obscured by Pinkie’s face. She recognized the reddish terrain as dragon migration lands, but the circled symbol…

“Is that a skull?” asked Rarity. It certainly looked to be, and whatever it was, it seemed to be inside some kind of fortress.

“What kind of artifacts are these?” asked Applejack.

“I guess they’re the kind left behind by an ancient and terrible force,” said Twilight. She couldn’t help but wonder what details Celestia had chosen to keep from her, and why. What about this foe was so terrible that she and her friends shouldn’t fight him, especially given the kinds of enemies they’d overcome before? Why had she said he was dangerous, but not evil?

Pinkie waved dismissively, blowing a raspberry. “Whatever. It’s nothing new, right? Collecting weird magical artifacts and defeating ancient monstrosities is pretty much our thing at this point.”

“I guess so. Come to think of it, Celestia decided not to tell me anything about Nightmare Moon before we went up against her, so maybe there are some things we’re supposed to learn on our own.”

They finished eating and set off, now making visible progress towards the plains. Twilight found herself lingering behind the others, glancing over her shoulder, squinting into the shadows cast by towering evergreens. She wondered what she was watching out for.

“I’ve been thinking about the funeral,” she said without meaning to. She blushed as she felt her friends’ eyes land on her. “Standing so close to a dead body felt… weird.”

“Everypony always says they look like they’re sleepin’,” said Applejack, shaking her head. “It ain’t so. He looked like… he wasn’t a pony no more, just some kinda’ thing.”

Rarity nodded. “It was like a mannequin or a scarecrow. Shaped like a pony, just… not quite right.”

“I don’t want that to happen to me.”

Again, Twilight blushed. Her friends watched her tentatively, all slowing down while she passed them. When she didn’t turn around, Pinkie trotted up alongside her. “That’s normal, isn’t it? Hardly anypony wants to die.”

Twilight nodded, biting her lip. “Being there at the funeral, though… it reminded me that the same thing is going to happen to me someday, too. It’s terrifying to think about.”

“That’s life, ain’t it?” said Applejack. “We live until we’re sick o’ livin’, then we stop. Why worry while we’re still young?”

“Because when I stop and think about it, a lifetime doesn’t seem like that long. Some animals, like dragons, get to live for thousands of years. Alicorns are immortal. Compared to that, living eighty or ninety years seems like nothing.”

“That’s a matter of perspective, isn’t it?” said Rarity. “By that logic, I should imagine rabbits and squirrels must be quite jealous of us.”

“They are,” confirmed Fluttershy from the back of the group.

Twilight’s breath caught in her throat and her stomach felt uneasy. “So this isn’t something any of you think about a lot?”

“Dying, you mean?” asked Rarity.

For a few seconds, the only sound was of their hooves shuffling down the slope. Then, Twilight said: “Yeah. It just seems so wrong that every pony who lives should have to die. It’s not like anyone deserves to.”

“Of course they don’t,” said Rainbow Dash, flying up alongside her, “but being alive in the first place is a pretty good deal if you ask me. You just need to get back your sense of adventure. The meaning of life is to live. If you can manage that, then it’s worth it.”

Twilight nodded. “I guess I feel a little better. Maybe someday all of this will make more sense.”

…

By the time they reached the plains, the day had settled into a sultry, lazy afternoon, forecasting the impression that it had done all it was going to do and was simply waiting for night to arrive. As the sun began to set, the ponies set up camp, laying their sleeping bags on a dry patch of dirt beneath the clear night sky. Twilight gazed out across the mountainous horizon, trying to ignore the lump in her throat and the heartache that tugged at her like a needy foal.