. and now here i stand .

. with the last obsidian lengths of the afterlife dissolving around me .

. i hear an audible hiss, and turn to see the boat crumbling in on itself .

. it's my raft and yet it isn't .

. only a few souls out of the nameless masses had ever mattered .

. and yet, in some way or another, they had all mattered .

. i had simply chosen to blink through a few of them .

. and now the lantern implodes, snuffing out the last shred of mystic light .

. i turn around and face where i knew the pond to be .

. in the bowels of oblivion, i can almost make it out .

. like a blacker-than-black circle staring back at me .

. it's the first thing that's scared me in eons .

. now we're talking .

. a breath sparks before me, then dissipates .

. i guide myself by the strobe, my hooves making ghostly echoes against the glassy surface .

. i'm no longer counting the steps i take .

. i'm no longer thinking of anything, only faces .

. the eyes and manes and muzzles of loved ones .

. with a final breath, the spark reflects my face as i bow to the pond water .

. and i see all of those colors dangling around me .

. flaring in the breeze as the final veil falls .

. then icy, icy water, numbing, soothing .

. coming apart .

. threads and ribbons and the spaces between laughter .

. good night, twilight, pinkie, applejack .

. soft and slow, like a lullaby .

. fluttershy, spike, rarity .

. curling up, drifting off, floating .

. i love you, guys. .

. black .

. i love... .