“Life is better than death, I believe. If only because it is less boring, and has fresh peaches in it.”

-Alice Walker, American Author

Months later, Celestia was flying still. The top of the world. White clouds above her, white snow beneath.

The idleness, as it happened, did not drive her mad. After a few uncertain days, her mind seemed to realize that it was alright to slow down. It ceased its chatter, its endless thinking. She flew as though entranced, her brain asleep within the waking body. Some days, that was all she knew until sore wings called her down to rest.

They still hurt, those wings. But it was an easy pain, and in some ways, a comfortable one. The “burn” of honest exercise she had long forgotten. A far cry from the withered aches that tormented her for so many years. Her head felt good, her back and eyes… good. She felt good.

It was a calm and silent life she led now. She would fly above the endless snow, her mind in meditative stillness until events caused it to rouse. Little thought, even little feeling. Like the great snow birds who now and then trailed her, drawn to her heat. She lived, and nothing else. And she was content.

Despite her isolation, Celestia still took her unicorn form when she slept or rested. It was sentimental and silly: she was fond of “Dawn,” and empathized with her. A tired mare, with the first half of a hard life behind her. But she had not given up, for the future looked to be a brighter one. She just needed time to sort herself out.

In her lucid hours, Celestia idly planned her disguise’s backstory. The family received names. The cutie mark – a simple red sun – explained by her control over “heat” magic. Celestia even made mental notes of Dawn’s personality, though truthfully it copied her own. Dawn wasn’t a mask, she was… a tool? No, a vector. A means for Celestia to speak incognito with her ponies when she returns.

“When” she returns. Not “if.” She mentioned it to Luna one night without thinking, and the younger sister had cheerfully pointed out the change.

Celestia smiled into the cold sky, letting herself glide to the ground. A short rest, and then she’d be aloft again.

She had no idea when it happened – when that first word had been removed from, “Perhaps one day I will return.” Nor could she say what feeling had changed her mind. She did not miss Canterlot in the slightest. Not the scheming bureaucrats, not the endless burden of the crown. The thought of returning to that place brought her a chill unmatched by the snowy ground.

By contrast, she loved this simple, thoughtless life. Not once had she seen any sign of the lost city, but that story had never been more than an excuse. A goal to give her direction. She flew across the tundra in wide, easy patrols, reveling in the meditative stillness.

She could do it forever. Quiet, cold. So lovely.

Nothing here. No lost ruins. Just snow, sky, and the odd bird.

One such bird streaked above her, uncaring of Celestia’s presence. A large thing, as these arctic birds tended to be. This one had such a long, slender body that it looked almost serpentine, with purple tail feathers breaking the monotony of its white body. She’d seen its kind in a book once, though that was in Caesar’s day, and the name had long fled her memory.

Purple and white. Very pretty.

A smile, small and kind.

An injured face. Dainty white hooves. The smell of lilacs.

“May I hug you?”

Yes. Very pretty.

Celestia loved the silence, the thoughtlessness. But there was… a hunger within her. An itch only briefly scratched by Luna’s dreamtime visits. More than once she caught herself fantasizing about her return to Equestria. It would be calm and quiet, just the way she wanted. One day a shy, white unicorn named Dawn would come to a country town, emitting barely a ripple with her passage. She would make friends – perhaps with an exuberant blue pegasus, or a kindly dressmaker. Perhaps the town would have a princess willing teach her how to be a good friend to them. Perhaps she would come to trust them with her secret. Or perhaps they would figure it out themselves. Luna had at least one thing right – ponies were more clever than she had come to believe. Kinder, as well.

The wonderful stillness of the north, versus the nervous desire to return. Celestia laughed – it was a soft and uncertain thing, for she barely knew how. But it was a true laugh. So many options, possibilities! All of them wonderful, and laid out before her. She was free.

“No.”

Celestia’s breath caught, but only for a moment. Her lips fell to a soft, weathered smile.

Sombra’s voice, from behind her. She heard him step closer, but did not turn.

His voice was resigned, lacking triumph or mockery. “You can’t leave us behind so easily.”

Of course not. Celestia closed her eyes, sighing lowly. It was… a nice dream, that I could.

She looked back. Sombra’s expression was stern, and he reached a hoof to grip her shoulder.

Her smile vanished. Perhaps I’ll never leave them behind.

But… I can try.

In a sudden motion, her hoof snapped out and knocked Sombra’s away.

And perhaps one day, I will.

“Sombra,” she said, voice low and hard. “My dear Sombra. You used to be real. You are not anymore.”

She spread her wings, the wide pinions shaking loose tufts of snow. “Goodbye.”

A dozen hard beats launched her to the sky. She glanced downwards and saw the ghost still there, gazing up after her.

Celestia turned her head away, and did not look again.

A weird half-dusk floated in the air around her. The sun and moon danced strangely this far north, rising and setting in bizarre positions. With no landmarks around her, and with the vanishing sun offering no assistance, direction became a random thing.

She flew on, with no sense of where she was going. She might be winging northwards, where the fabled city may yet rest over the horizon. Or south, to Equestria – familiar and alien, fearful and exciting. Or east or west, to whatever lands they might hold.

No idea.

She would not have it any other way. Celestia did not laugh, but she smiled broadly as she winged through the perfect sky.

Author's Notes:

Thank you for getting through this with me. It has been a labor of love that I've put a lot of effort into, and I hope it has shown.

I'm going to add a last few notes here, within spoiler tags. The exact nature of Celestia's ghosts are hinted at, but never fully explained in the story. I feel that is for the best, but I do have my own "take" on the subject. Feel free to read if you like, but also feel free to pass – I've long learned that the writer's thoughts on his own work are far less important than the thoughts he evokes from others.

In short: Celestia had come to suffer from schizophrenia, brought on by emotional trauma and starvation. Her social isolation became both a cause and a symptom, growing so strong that when Luna came back she lacked even the desire to form a relationship. Normal ponies became alien to her, and of course the hallucinations stemmed from the psychosis as well.

Luna is not wrong in believing she needs professional help, But Celestia is not wrong, either. By removing herself from the intense stress of the palace, she's given her mind time to rest and recover. And by allowing herself to bond with Luna, she's cracked the door open for other relationships as well. Celestia is badly damaged, and she will likely never be "cured" of all that's wrong with her. But with rest and friendship – perhaps just with Luna, perhaps with others to come – she stands to rally her mind and go on to live a better life. And therein lies the hope.

And so long as I'm writing notes, regarding Absalom: As many of you have inferred, he pretty much reflects my efforts to create a Lovecraftian deity. What I truly hope to have conveyed is that his existence in the story was not for its own sake, but rather to bring Celestia face-to-face with her suppressed feelings: her exhaustion, despair, and strange longing for death. Creating the chinks in the mask, which - partially with Luna's help, partially from her own efforts - gradually lets her outgrow it. I am grateful that whether or not you found his appearance jarring, you trusted me enough to follow through to the end.

Alrighty, for real now. Done. Thanks again.