And we should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once; and we should call every truth false which was not accompanied by at least one laugh.

-Friedrich Nietzsche

Kefka Palazzo was an ordinary man, once.

Long before Emperor Gestahl ordered so many young men drafted into the royal military, Kefka was a man of peace. A family man, a man that dearly held those close to him; a man that lived, that loved and laughed.

Was he that man any longer?

No, most certainly not.

He couldn’t even remember their faces.

But, then again, Kefka hardly remembered any face that wasn’t his own anymore.

Kefka definitely remembered his own sense of eagerness, so long ago; his willingness to obey the Emperor, to prove his loyalty to crown and country, his reliability as a man of courage, a man of talent, a man of his family. A man of laughter.

Emperor Gestahl took everything from him.

It all blurred at that one point; the mythical creatures that the Empire had captured, used for testing on their own soldiers. The mysterious and untamable force known as magic, that was thrust upon him. Kefka’s mind was broken that day – shattered, the man he knew before no more than a twisting reed in the wind of madness.

But he still had the laughter.

Kefka remembered laughing. Such a good feeling.

Laughing, something so rare an unattainable that one might go to any length just to get a little. Something that dulled the pain, it filled the void. Laughter was such a light, wonderful thing.

Kefka remembered laughing as he put the shards of glass in his mouth.

The others never shared his love of laughter. They were soft, weak, angry little people that couldn’t understand. Their eyes weren’t opened by the magic forced upon him, shredding into his mind like joyous slivers of happiness.

They didn’t even laugh when he held them down and put the glass in their mouths, either.

But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t even remember their faces.

Not until he made them all look just like him, that is.

Then, Kefka remembered perfectly.

Kefka Palazzo was a powerful man, once.

When Emperor Gestahl thought that he had won, when he let his guard down; that was when the deviousness and trickery of Kefka got the best of him. Kefka won in the end; he rose through the ranks faster than any other ever could, with fire in his belly matched only by the fires he lit upon the towns.

There was a time when Kefka Palazzo was on top of the world.

Literally; Kefka struck down the Emperor with his bare hands, and singlehandedly plunged the entire world into darkness when he absorbed the same magic that had been forced upon him. Kefka swallowed it whole, drowned out the pleas for mercy in a rain of flame as he ascended to godhood. They were soft, weak, angry little people that couldn’t understand.

They didn’t even laugh when he lit them on fire.

Kefka Palazzo was a god, once.

He alone held the essence of magic itself in his hands, tore the world asunder beneath him as he shrouded all of creation in darkness; darkness that he alone would propagate, to show them all just how pitiful and meaningless their lives truly were.

Kefka would make them understand.

But then, like a candle in the dark, they appeared.

The curious band of misfits, those that had also been tainted with the touch of magic; thieves, gamblers, harlots and heroes. They thought themselves higher than him; they did not truly understand. They were all mad.

Those awful people, so hell bent on forcing him to submit to their wicked logic and reason, threw him from his mighty throne; the throne that Kefka had worked his entire life to achieve, that Kefka alone had the right to sit upon. They lit the world in hope; wretched, accursed hope, his eternal enemy. They made a mockery of him, humiliated and cast him from the heavens. They were mocking him now, with their useless graves and monuments to the many that he alone had slain.

Kefka Palazzo was a hopeful man, once.

Kefka Palazzo was a laughing man, once.

Kefka Palazzo was a loving man, once.

But that was a long, long time ago.

“Whoa, check out that one!” Spike pointed to the tiny fourth falling star he'd seen that night in excitement, catching Twilight’s attention. She looked up from the checkered picnic blanket upon the hill they sat on, staring at the fiery little blue and red light.

“Ooh, that one’s going through the atmosphere pretty quickly!” the violet unicorn beamed at the young drake, who danced back and forth.

“Quick, Twilight!” Spike grinned. “Make a wish, quick; before it’s gone!”

“Oh, pfffft.” Twilight patted Spike on the head and nuzzled her own nose against his. “I’m already perfectly content. Although I wouldn’t say no to a few new lessons,” she said thoughtfully.

Spike laughed and rolled his eyes, patting his full belly.

“When are you going to stop trying to cram your head full and just live for a couple of days, eh?” Spike sat back down, watching the steadily growing star. It trailed through the sky brilliantly against the inky background of the night, its tail quavering back and forth in a bizarre pattern as it fell.

“Every day is just another opportunity to learn something new, Spike,” Twilight nodded sagely, beginning to pack away the remainder of their picnic. “Pass me the rest of the sandwiches, would you kindly?”

Spike grumbled something unintelligible, trundling the small plate of sandwiches (or what was left of them) to her as she levitated the remainder into their woven basket. He really wasn’t looking forward to the long walk back to the library with his overstuffed stomach, but the prospect of getting some shuteye sounded pretty appealing by this point.

Twilight stopped halfway through packing up their picnic, staring at the sky.

“… Spike,” she said slowly, narrowing her eyes at the steadily growing red and blue comet, a twinkle of gold shining behind it. “Is it just me, or… no, it did! That comet just changed direction!”

“Wait, seriously?” Spike scratched his head curiously, peering up at the falling star. “That sounds kind of… weird.”

“… Get my notebook.”

“What?”

“Get my notebook, Spike!” Twilight gasped breathlessly, the falling star swiveling downward at an even faster rate than before, a blazing tail lighting up the night sky.

Spike never got the opportunity, as the meteor promptly screamed through the air and blasted into the side of the hill, an enormous shockwave knocking them both to the bottom as flecks of dirt and debris cluttered the air.