Autumn leaves danced downward from the lone tree on the ridge. Softly they entrenched themselves deep in the alicorn’s immaculately groomed mane. Unflinching she continued her quiet interlude under the ancient tree and lifted her delicate head to the wind. A soft breeze brought the tantalizing smells of wood smoke and baked treats to her nostrils from the festival unfolding in the valley below. The autumn celebration was in full swing with what seemed the entire village of earth ponies dancing (none too gracefully) to the joyful barnyard music filling the hollow. Her eyes began to mist with longing as she watched a group of fillies playing hide and seek around the piles of freshly harvested sheaves. For a blessed instant she fancied herself flying down to join their merrymaking, perhaps showing them some real dances. She was halfway to the edge of the ridge stretching her wings when realization struck.

Sighing deeply she folded her wings and stamped at the ground furious with herself for being so swayed. The loud reverberations of metal suddenly echoed all around her and she jumped backwards. Glancing down she saw the long, ancient scythe resting on the grass before her. A sinking feeling filled her gut as she stared at its smoothly polished handle and elegantly forged blade. Slowly she turned to look at her alabaster flank where the scythe’s reflection stared back at her clear as the sunset now over the horizon.

With tears in her eyes she slowly walked forward to pick up the scythe. Bitterly she thought to herself, I’m such a fool! Every pony has been given a place in this world and mine is to be separate from them. After all, there is no pony alive that wants to look their own death in the eyes.  Heart heavy Strya took the scythe and flew upward into the darkening sky.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Another blizzard is blowing in from the North observed Lsy as he glanced up at the sky. Well, the weather had not been exactly pleasant since that day. Shivering he looked down the filth-laden street his small candle stand rested upon. Broken cobblestone lined what once had been a rather upscale shopping district. The peeling paint and rotting boards of the shop fronts had long fallen into a state of abject disrepair adding to the gloom around him. Sighing he looked across the street at two emaciated earth pony colts fighting over a rotting carrot. The big sorrel colt squealed, bashing the tiny peach colt against a pile of rubbish-filled crates sending the fowl odor of refuse into the frigid air. After a good scrap, the sorrel colt held up the carrot in triumph and trotted off. Struggling the loser stood and let out a sharp challenging whinny at the fleeing shape, stamping his little hooves against the cobbles. Breaking into a ridged trot the colt set off.

“You there hold up!” Lsy galloped around to stop the colt. “You don’t stand a chance against him let it go!”

The colt snorted in frustration and tried to push against Lsy’s steel gray flank. “Out of my way! It’s none of your business!”

‘‘None of my business’, I beg to differ. I’m not going to stand by and let you continue this stupidity! He was twice your weight, be reasonable now.”

Reluctantly the peach colt lowered his neck and flattened his ears in submission. “Yeah, maybe you’re right mister. But I deserved that carrot more than he did! He was huge he could have gone without…” He trailed off, becoming embarrassed in front of the strange stallion. Looking up he saw the slender grey form back off, revealing a mark he hadn’t noticed before on his flank. Dumbstruck he stared.

“What’s your name young one?” Lsy leaned in toward the colt.

The colt blushed, “It’s Sundance… Sundance Shimmer.” Then standing up straight, puffing his chest out, “Yes I know it’s the most stupid, girly name ever don’t laugh!”

Lsy chuckled and then snorted with laughter, tossing his head up and down. Gasping for air he finally said, “Now then your parents certainly had a sense of irony didn’t they?” Then he stopped laughing and stared solemnly into the darkening sky whispering, “No, Sundance Shimmer is a good name. A name like that brings hope, you ought to cherish it.” Turning back to Sundance he smiled softly, “hold on I’ve got something for you.”

Lsy trotted over to the rickety stand lined with candles and nuzzled underneath the table. He drew out a piece of bread in his mouth and walked over to Sundance. Dropping it in front of the colt he said, “Here you are lad, it’s not much but it might fill your belly for the time being.”

With a happy glint Sundance moved to take the bread and then paused, remembering. “Say mister, how come you have one?”

“Have what Sundance?” Lsy stared hard into Sundance’s blue eyes.

“You know…a promise mark. I’ve been all over this mangy city and have never seen any pony with one. We’re supposed to be cursed aren’t we, never supposed to have promise marks. So how come you get one and why is it shaped like a candle?”

Lsy turned his deep green eyes to look at his flank, staring hard at the elegant candle and its bright flame reflected upon it. “Well Sundance I’m a candle maker after all. It’s my job you know.”

Puffing up with anger Sundance glared at Lsy. “That’s not true! All of them; the bread makers, carpenters, bookkeepers, blacksmiths, coffin makers, and every pony else with a job doesn’t have one. So why do you?”

Lsy looked up at the sky and stared at the now falling snow. “Well, maybe it is because I’m meant to spread some light on this dying city…” Still staring up he spoke loudly, “Sundance you take that bread and go. There’s a blizzard coming and you need to be home. Go now.”

Reluctantly Sundance picked up the bread and galloped off, shooting a backwards glance at the strange stallion questions swirling in his head.

Walking slowly to his stand Lsy carefully began to pack the candles into a crate and placed them on the ground thinking to himself, didn’t sell a single one today, I’ll have to go to the market with Brev tomorrow after all. Crawling under the boards himself he pulled his tattered green blanket out and over his flank. It’s going to be a long night he reflected as he gazed at the snow now falling fast around him.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

He could have been asleep for a few hours or a few minutes but when Lsy awoke the howling winds and snow had all but ceased and an eerie calm had taken over the street. Lsy had always enjoyed snow, it covered over many faults and made everything seem new again. Shaking off the blanket he stood and stared at the moonlight reflected against the powder now lying thick over the cobbles. If it weren’t for the bitter cold he could almost imagine he was in some wonderful new land far from the troubles of this world. A gust of wind caught his mane and he shivered violently. Well, maybe the storm’s not quite done yet. Sighing he decided to try and sleep some more when a glimmer in the distance caught his attention.

From the end of the street he could see something approaching. Transfixed Lsy continued to watch as the shape materialized into the shape of a petite mare, head held low. Despite the snow, her white body shone with an aura that outlined her clearly. Never had Lsy seen her like. Long strands of silvery hair reached far past her legs and trailed behind her like a veil. Though her dainty hooves struck the ground they made no trace, as though the mare herself was as light as the snowflakes around her. Lsy’s eyes moved from the great wings folded against her side to her flank. He started with surprise when he saw that the mare had a promise mark too. And what a strange one it was! A great scythe with a finely curved ebony blade was emblazoned there. Was she a farmer? Before he could stop himself Lsy galloped forward calling to the mare, “Hello there! Stop! I want to know how you came by your promise mark.”

She paid no heed and continued to walk down the street. Lsy cantered forward, blocking her path, “I am talking to you miss. Shouldn’t you show the common curtsy of acknowledging my existence?”

Deliberately she raised her head and Lsy froze. The finely featured mare held a long scythe in her mouth that he had not noticed before. Its’ elegant blade now danced with the moonlight echoed in her deep blue eyes. And upon her head there was a long, twisted horn. Lsy felt his stomach drop and clumsily sunk into a bow. “Forgive me, I had no idea that you were an alicorn. I meant no offense your majesty.”

There was a loud thud as the scythe dropped from the mare’s mouth onto the snow. She stared at Lsy with bewilderment in her eyes and spoke with a voice that pierced the night stillness. “You can see me? Truly you must see me for you spoke to me directly. How can that be? What kind of dark magic do you practice stallion?”

“I possess no magic your majesty I am only a humble earth pony candle maker. However, I do not believe that any pony would have trouble seeing you. You are most captivating…”

Huffing the mare stood tall before him. “Well I can sense you are telling the truth though it pains me to admit it. Do not call me ‘your majesty.’ I am not royalty nor do I desire such a title. When their time comes every pony is equal be they ‘royalty’ or no.”

“Then what shall I call you?” Lsy breathed, feeling severely shaken by the mare’s response.

“I have been given many names over the years, most I care little for.” She paused for a while, “You may call me Strya. And your name?”

“It is Lsy.” Then feeling relieved he was not to be scolded again, “I want to know. Where did you receive your promise mark? In this city I am the only pony I have ever seen with one. Is it the same where you come from? Please, tell me if you know.”

“Why are you so desperate to know the reason Lsy?” Strya sighed looking at Lsy’s mark. “We are all granted marks that reflect our greater purpose, we cannot deny that it is our fate. I have had my mark for many centuries now, from that day onward I knew my place in the universe. As for this city-” She glanced around at the street and shops, “-I know not why they no longer possess marks. Perhaps because they have lost direction, or hope. But one can never be too sure of such things. I do not pretend to be omniscient.”

“But what about you? Why is your mark the scythe? Are you a farmer?”

Strya chuckled softly, “No, no Lsy that is not my calling though at times I wish it had been. You can say that I represent the true equalizer in this strange world. I meet every pony at least once and never for very long. It is most unfortunate that we should meet before you are ready.” Seeing Lsy’s sad expression, “Do you know the old saying about the pale horse?”

Lys was taken aback, “No, I can’t say that I have. How does it go?”

“For death discriminates not, and for us all death rides on a pale horse.” Strya stared hard into Lsy’s eyes, “You might say Lsy that I am that horse.” Smoothly Strya picked up the scythe with her magic and spread her wings, “Go back to sleep now and forget our chance meeting. I will see you again. It is…inevitable.”

Lsy stood, his body trembling and a chill taking hold of him. How could this beautiful creature be the very symbol of death? And why did he feel the uncontrollable urge to speak with her again? Truly this world is full of more mysteries than I ever thought possible.

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