It was a year before the Event happened. In that space of time I came back five times, each time for good and needful reasons. Five times my corpse was recreated, and five times I saved lives by placing its rotting flesh between harm and other ponies.

What can I say? I do good work.

Not that I’m bragging, mind you. And truth be told, I wouldn’t have minded if I hadn’t returned at all. Glory and being awesome is all very well when you’re alive, but when you’re dead…it kinda matters less. Weird. Never thought I’d think that but there it is.

Anyways, my saving ponies thing. Really, they weren’t that big events. Twice I came back to stop an accident – first to save a filly from a wagon (very ironic, but at least this time being run over didn’t hurt), the second to dive into Sugarcube corner and pull out the Cake family from a raging inferno.

Small things. I guess at the time they were really scary to the ponies involved, but once again, I was dead. And fear was something I left behind. Let’s be honest though, it wasn’t really heroic on my part: when everypony was standing around, unable to enter the blaze even with every hoof tossing water on the fire, I just sorta walked in and pulled everyone out. Dead, remember?

But they called me a hero for that. Heck, they called me a hero for saving a filly from being squished, and that wans’t anything special too. I mean, she didn’t even check before crossing the street. Should I have let the wagon run her over?

Thinking about it, the answer’s no. But really, saving her was only a byproduct of watching over my friends. They’re the ones I cared about, and when I returned those other three times…

Once to battle Timberwolves in the forest. Applebloom had run afoul of them and Applejack found her surrounded by an angry pack. I believe they would have simply chased Applebloom away, but faced with the fear of losing a family member, Applejack snapped.

Cue an epic battle in the woods where I appear and give the Timberwolves a thrashing. Applejack helps, of course, but let’s be honest who the coolest pony there was. I was tossing Timberwolves around like they weighed nothing, doing epic backflips off of their heads and pounding them into the ground—

And got kicked in the back for my trouble.

Yeah, Applejack sucker-kicked me. Not lightly too; if I’d have been alive she might have actually crushed my spine. As it was I just sorta stopped and stared at her as the Timberwolves fled. And she said some stuff.

I’m not gonna repeat it here. Fillies and colts shouldn’t hear that kinda language. But it hurt. It really did. I mean, I’m not an abomination. Or I guess…I am. But it hurts that a friend would call me that to my face. It really does.

Pain of the heart, or rather, pain of the soul is the only thing that could really affect me even in death. And Applejack’s words hurt. But she’s a friend, and I know I hurt her every time she sees me walking around.

Anyways, she was safe. Applebloom was safe too, so a bonus there. But my friend was safe. That’s all that mattered.

Two other times I returned, then. One time was very simple. I came back to stop Pinkie Pie from making a mistake.

My friend, the legendary party pony of Ponyville never quite regained her cheer after I came back. I mean, she didn’t have the same breakdown as the first time I return, but she wasn’t happy. She stopped throwing parties except for a few ponies on their birthdays, and she was silent too much and too often. Her hair stopped being poofy. That’s always a bad sign.

To cut a long story short, I intervened when things got really bad. It was her choice, and she’d fooled Twilight and everypony else to the extent that they left her alone. I mean, they were still careful to keep her away from kitchens or places like that, but Pinkie’s resourceful. It didn’t take her long to find what she needed. And when she was in her room she tried to leave.

And I stopped her. One hoof was all it took. I didn’t know that I could appear wherever I wanted, but need called me back and so I was there. Just as Pinkie raised the blade I grabbed it and broke it in my hooves. And she looked at me and wept.

Let’s not talk too long about it. Only that I held her until Twilight noticed one of her kitchen knives was missing, and until my friends had come running to Pinkie’s room in Twilight’s castle. They stopped when they found me, but I gave Pinkie to them and left. Again, it hurt more than it should. But the event was good, and even necessary not just for Pinkie, but for me.

After that day Pinkie regained some of her cheer. She didn’t bounce as much, but she did smile more than ever, and she once again made it her goal to make other ponies happy. I was glad – not for the other ponies, they could eat hay – but that Pinkie was back to her regular self. That was what mattered.

Let me add just one more detail here.

In each moment I returned, in every second I spent waking on the earth one thing separated me from my past self. For no matter the reason, I didn’t fly.

Not once. My wings remained folded on my back and I stayed on the ground. I refused to fly, and I’m sure it bothered my friends.

But flight was what killed me. That, and a lot of heavy parade floats, but it was in flight I had died, and it was the sonic rainboom that had changed my life that had ended it.

Perhaps it was trauma. Can the dead be traumatized? Either way, I didn’t want to fly, which is totally unlike me, I know. And part of me feared that I wouldn’t be able to fly even if I wanted to.

You see, flying is part magic for pegasi. There’s no way we can lift ourselves off the ground with our wingspans alone, let alone fly as fast and as high as we do. I wasn’t sure if I’d lost that part of my being in death, or whether my reconstituted wings would be able to support my weight.

So I didn’t bother to fly. And I had no need to, so all was well. I pulled ponies out of danger with my hooves on the ground, and even if my flesh was torn and burnt by my actions, well, who cared?

Other ponies, that’s who. Turns out walking out of a burning building with half your skin melted off makes other ponies violently ill. I can understand that.

But it seemed saving pony’s lives and coming to help my friends was winning me some points in the eyes of the other ponies in Ponyville. The first few times they saw me grab the filly or rescue the Cakes, they were equally grateful and terrified of getting close to me. But after word got out about the Timberwolves and Pinkie…

They weren’t ever totally easy with the idea of me being dead and not dead, but I will say that after that, they didn’t run screaming from me. Rather, it seemed like I became a hero. Again, I mean. Instead of being that spooky, scary monster that terrorized Ponyville, I was once again Rainbow Dash, protector of ponies.

I didn’t care. After nearly a year of death, I cared almost nothing for what other ponies thought of me, just that my friends stayed safe. They were who I watched day and night, always alert for what might threaten their lives or happiness. As they slept I was their guardian. As they woke, and went about their daily routines, I was with them.

Always.

Yes, even in the dirty parts. Look, being dead means you lose a lot of things, including the ability to be embarrassed. So what, they make a bit of water and compost? I could pull out my eyes and juggle them if other ponies didn’t start screaming.

Ahem. My point is that all was well. As I said, life continued fairly normally for most of my friends. Twilight administrated Ponyville and helped out with making the town a better place to live. Applejack kicked trees, Rarity sewed dresses. Pinkie tried to make other ponies happy. Only Fluttershy was really different.

She became a Wonderbolt.

How can you summarize the achievement of a lifetime, the work of a year into one sentence? I dunno, but I just did it. Yes, Fluttershy became a Wonderbolt, and she was nearly the fastest recruit to become a full member in their history.

She was also the first Ponyville citizen to become a full Wonderbolt. I mean, I know Spitfire inducted me after my death, but remember, at the time I was a Wonderbolt Reserve. I’m sure she would have recruited me once a spot opened up – I know Fire Streak was about to retire in a few months.

Well, she did resign her post and went on to teach at the Wonderbolts Academy. But the pony who filled her spot wasn’t me, but Fluttershy.

Yes, Fluttershy. I keep feeling like I have to repeat that. But she was the most qualified among the Reserves, and so she got the position. She deserved it, mind you. No pony argued when Spitfire appointed her. It’s just weird for me, alright?

It’s not that she was the best flier, because she wasn’t. Fluttershy’s no long distance flier like Wind Rider, and even if she’s fast when she needs to be, every Wonderbolt is quick. If anything, Fluttershy only barely passed the basic physical requirements to be a Wonderbolt after a year’s worth of intensive flight training.

No, if there was one single feature that set Fluttershy apart from the other Wonderbolts, it was her bravery. Yes, her bravery.

Something changed in Fluttershy after I died. I’d seen the first sparks of it when she went after that mouse in the middle of the flash flooding, but the fire in Fluttershy’s heart ignited once she put herself to the test. Remember that dive ten thousand feet down that made Cloudsdale history? That was just the start of Fluttershy’s career as a Wonderbolt.

Picture the scene. Angry Manticore, frightened ponies. It wanders out of the Everfree, hungry for ponyflesh. Normally you call in the Wonderbolts and the Royal Canterlot guard (or just Princess Luna) and have them battle it out, forcing the Manticore back with hopefully no casualties. It’s a lot of work. Now, you could do that. Or…you could send Fluttershy.

She just stares at them. Monsters, I mean. Ponies too, but only if they’re being jerks or stealing stuff. But I’ve seen her stare down Cragadiles, Timberwolves, Manticores, heck, even a Cockatrice! They turn ponies to stone when you meet their eyes, but Fluttershy sends them running away with just her eyes. And if they still put up a fight, she kicks the horseapples out of them!

Seriously, I never knew Fluttershy was good at fighting. But when you think about it…she never really had trouble keeping up with the rest of us when the changelings invaded, even though she practically ran away the entire time. It’s only when she froze up that she got herself and the rest of us in trouble. And after Wonderbolts training, she could toss bad guys around with one hoof tied behind her back.

But that wasn’t all. If there was a fire, collapsed house, injured pony, or even a crying filly or colt, Fluttershy would appear in an instant to help out. Naturally this meant more work for me, but after a while…I stopped appearing, at least when Fluttershy wasn’t in that much danger. She was brave yes, and didn’t hesitate to throw herself into danger to save others, but she was everything I’m not.

And by that, I mean, overly confident, rude, lazy, and prone to obsessing over Wonderbolts and Daring Doo. I can name my own faults when I’m dead. But Fluttershy was always calm and careful, and with the added element of courage, she quickly became the best Wonderbolt since General Flash himself.

…In time. Let’s be real here, you don’t get to that point in the course of just a few months. I sorta skipped ahead to what Fluttershy would be to explain why the Wonderbolts were so eager to recruit her. Truthfully, after a year of hard work and helping ponies Fluttershy was just the best candidate for the Wonderbolts and then some, not a living legend or anything yet.

If I can say it, she was only about 60% of my awesomeness at that point, and only about 34% of my radicalness. Coolness…I guess she was about 71%, but that was mainly luck. A shame, really. If she’d been better maybe the Event might have never taken place. But as it was, it all happened nearly a year after my second return, as everypony was celebrating Fluttershy’s induction into the Wonderbolts.

The Wonderbolts were touring Equestria, performing a travelling show where they essentially showed off and did aerial maneuvers for crowds. It’s a nice fundraiser and publicity stunt, and it was at that same time that Firestreak decided to retire. Cue Fluttershy being tapped to become a Wonderbolt, and the show coming to Ponyville.

Fluttershy left for two days to prepare for the show. Everypony congratulated her and Pinkie Pie got a bit clingy – she had real problems being away from anypony after I died – but Fluttershy acquitted herself well. I was sort of expecting her to be frightened and crash into a trashcan or something, but she paid attention to all the rules, memorized the flight pattern in one day, and got along well with the other Wonderbolts. They had a really hard time figuring out her newbie nickname because of it.

And let me tell you, Wonderbolts may be great fliers, but coming up with nicknames without source material is not one of their strong points. I heard about a thousand of the dumbest names come out of Soarin’s mouth before Spitfire eventually decided to call Fluttershy ‘Diver’ because of how she passed the Wonderbolts test.

It’s an okay name, but it still sounds awkward when they call Fluttershy that. But it doesn’t really matter because she’s part of the show, and she’s performing perfectly next to them. After the Wonderbolts finish their performance everyone in Ponyville is cheering.

Me? I’m bored. Physical stunts don’t impress someone who’s got no physicality, and so I wait for things to be over. I do a lot of waiting, really. I don’t mind it generally, but I guess the Wonderbolt’s performance is getting on my nerves for some reason. Can’t think of why that is, though.

Fluttershy lands among her friends and receives their praise and adoration. Then she goes over to her other friends, her animal friends. They’re there to celebrate too, but for some reason they’re not cheering her. They were mark you, all throughout the show. But they’re silent now.

Something’s wrong. Fluttershy’s face falls, and I proverbially sit up in my spirit state. I can sense what’s happened before Fluttershy sees, but both of us know from the expressions on her friend’s faces.

Someone died.

A gray, elderly mouse is lying on the ground, surrounded by his family. His tiny paws are folded, and he looks…peaceful. I assume it’s a he. But his family are grieving, and that’s understandable. It’s not as if he had a violent death, though. It seems his heart just gave out as he was watching Fluttershy and he passed away.

It happens. I know that many of Fluttershy’s friends passed away under her care while I was alive. No matter how healthy, animals just don’t have the same lifespans as ponies. They tore pieces out of Fluttershy’s heart every time one of them passed away, though. And this time…

----

Fluttershy’s head is bowed, her mane obscuring her face as she holds the mouse in her hooves. The other animals crowd around her, some weeping, others remorseful. The hawk is there, as is the eagle and I wonder dispassionately if Fluttershy will give the mouse’s body to them. Probably not. She would bury her friend just like any other pony.

Spitfire flies down to look at what the commotion is. She sees Fluttershy holding the dead mouse and stops to talk to her. A few sentences pass between the two. I don’t pay attention. I drift, waiting for the show to be over. And then a scream—

Everypony looks up.

High above Ponyville in the clouds there’s a flash of light. An object begins to fall from the sky, small at first, but rapidly growing larger. Ponies look up and cry out in horror, but Fluttershy and Spitfire are already in the air. The dead mouse lies forgotten on the ground, watched over only by its grieving kin.

And I stir, because I know that there is trouble.

Something is falling from the sky. Something big. Ponies look up and scream as they see it hurtling towards the ground. They begin running, but of course it’s too late. Their reactions are terrible. The Wonderbolts were already in the air and trying to deal with the problem before most of the ponies even noticed there was something wrong.

As for me, I had already assessed the situation and was swearing in every language I knew. The reactions of the living can’t match those of the dead. They need nerves and electrical impulses for their brains and stuff. All I need to do is think. And I really need to think, because this time the problem’s bad. Something’s falling from the sky, and it’s the worst possible object at a moment like this.

That weather balloon. That damn weather balloon. If ever there was an object that was cursed, it was that thing. First Spike chased it into the Everfree and nearly got eaten by Timberwolves, and then there was that pony who nearly died when it sprung a leak in the sky…

And now it’s on fire. And falling. Did I mention that last bit?

I’m not sure what happened, but I can guess. Somepony was up there, watching the Wonderbolts perform no doubt. Something happens and they back into the burner. The fire hits the basket or the balloon and the entire thing ignites.

But that’s not the end of the disaster. One hot air balloon is bad enough, but the skies were filled with more than just a single balloon. Lots of non-pegasi have hot air balloons, and there are a lot of them clustered in the sky. And when the first balloon burst into flame, it hit the rest of them and they all fell too.

Those idiots should never have let more than one or two hot air balloons up there in the first place. But spectators pay lots of bits for special seats, and I guess nopony wondered what would happen if all of the balloons fell out of the sky at once. Who’d imagine that?

Any pony who knew how I died, that’s who. But Twilight doesn’t plan the Wonderbolts' events, and she probably assumed they had everything under control. But that’s the thing. Being so good that you can take care of small problems means you get careless.

Pieces of burning balloons fall from the sky and start hitting clouds. Now, if these were non-magical Everfree clouds that wouldn’t be a problem. But pegasi clouds aren’t made of water like mundane clouds. Some are just compressed air and so they can burn. What do you get when you add fire to clouds? You get flaming falling meteors raining down all over Ponyville.

Twilight’s already in the air, shooting down the burning clouds and trying to minimize damage. Applejack, Pinkie Pie, and Rarity are running to put out fires that are spreading from building to building. Fluttershy and the other Wonderbolts? They’re still trying to stop that damn balloon.

Fleetfoot’s already pulled the pony out of the balloon and gotten her to safety. But the other Wonderbolts are still clustered around the balloon, trying to stop it or slow it somehow. I know they’re not going to succeed. Everypony on the ground is screaming and trying to run, and I see Fluttershy and Spitfire flying at the falling fireball. Still not enough.

They need me.

I’m on the ground in an instant. Ponies gasp and run away from me as I open my eyes and gaze upwards. My wings spread. I tense. And my dead heart begins to beat, because I’m nervous for the first time. Can I do it?

But I see Fluttershy up there, flying alone and there’s no choice. I would do anything for my friends. Even if it means coming back from the dead. Even if it means reliving how I died. So I do it. I flap my wings.

To fly.

I’m in the air before I know what I’m doing. Flying is as natural as breathing, to me. Or at least it was.

It is again. I climb a hundred feet in a second and accelerate, shooting towards the flaming balloon. But flying, like breathing, is no longer the same in death. I can’t feel the air around me, can’t sense anything with my dead flesh.

That’s bad. Birds and pegasi read the thermals and direction of the wind. Without those senses it’s like flying half-blind. No wonder I didn’t want to fly before.

But I can see the Wonderbolts flying around the flaming meteor, trying to push it back. They’re like moths around a flame and suffer in the same ways. Their wings catch fire as they ram against the fiery debris and they fall away one by one.

They aren’t strong enough to shift the trajectory of the balloon. Do you know how much the basket weighs along with everything else? At least a thousand pounds, maybe thousands for bigger ones. And they can’t push at it without burning their flesh. But they do anyways.

Spitfire and Fluttershy are the last to fall away. Spitfire’s fur is burnt and black, and the flames that scorch her are far realer than the colors in her mane. She has to glide down to safety, unable even to flap her wings. Fluttershy’s hair is likewise smouldering, and her body is burning. She falls away, trailing smoke. But her eyes catch mine.

A plea. A silent appeal. A request for memory’s sake.

How could I refuse my friend anything? For her I would fly. And for her, I would die again.

So I fly.

Higher, higher, past the falling wreckage of the hot air balloon. Even in my death I sense the extreme heat of it. But it’s too heavy even for my deathless strength. No, the solution in this case is what it’s always been.

Speed times weight. Force and sacrifice.

A Sonic Rainboom.

I climb higher, until Equestria’s just a speck beneath the clouds. I’m so high up now, higher than I’ve ever flown before. I could never hit these altitudes without freezing or dying of oxygen deprivation before. But I’m dead, and the sky is so blue. A far darker blue than my fur.

I wait for just one second, and then dive. Fast, faster. Normally I could hit a Rainboom in my sleep, but I’m out of practice. I need to remember how to do it, and so I remember. Not my childhood – that was pure luck. No, the moment I really learned how to break the speed of sound.

I remember.

A falling unicorn, three unconscious Wonderbolts. She’s down there somewhere, in Ponyville. If the debris hits the ground the fragments could—focus.

Faster, faster. Downwards. I can feel the wind tugging at my mortal frame, the air itself trying to slow my descent. Ignore it.

The fireball is still falling. It’s only two hundred feet above Ponyville. But I’m closing in on that burning light, ever faster. I can feel the air rippling around me. Faster.

Once again I strain against the invisible limit of the air. Fast, faster…the world slows around me. It’s time. I can feel the air pulling at my frame, trying to force me back. If it does I’ll be sent flying and the fireball will hit the ground. Innocents will die. My friends will die.

Never. I push, and it’s like turning a key in the lock. I accelerate. The air shatters before me. I break the sonic barrier and the world turns black.

Dead black. Pitch black. The kind of black that even midnight can’t come close to. It’s not just the absence of light; it’s the death of all things made color. And it’s all around me, radiating from my corpse, my very being in a nimbus of darkness and sound. Just like—

A Sonic Rainboom.

No time to think of why it is. I hit the falling, burning wreckage in an explosion of dark light and a thunderous explosion. This time it doesn’t hurt.

----

After the crash comes silence. It’s a sound Rarity has heard one too many times. But at least this time there’s nothing more she can lose.

Smoke still rises from countless rooftops in Ponyville, but the fires have all been put out. And the flaming embers no longer fall from the sky. They too have been extinguished.

By a Sonic Rainboom.

Except that it wasn’t a Sonic Rainboom. This one was different. Rarity heard the air tearing, saw the light, but it was black light, dark light. Not the rainbow she remembered. Only fitting then, because the pegasus that lands before her is not the pony she remembered either.

One of her wings is gone, torn away. The side of her face and parts of her skin are sundered, and her bones are crushed. But her eyes still burn with immortal light.

Rainbow Dash is dead, but she still stares at Rarity.

The unicorn’s knees buckle. Her stomach turns and feels weak just looking at the mutilated body of her friend and once lover. But she doesn’t scream or faint, because she doesn’t want to hurt Rainbow Dash. Or whatever part of her is still left on this earth.

Rarity takes a deep breath. She knows what she’s going to say. Thank you for saving everypony again, obviously, but more than that. She’s been practicing for a long time. An entire year, in fact. She’s tried to say it before, but she was too afraid. Not this time. She wants to tell Rainbow Dash that she can’t leave her behind, that she wants her to stay, to be with her.

She’s good at begging. She’s good at whining. But Rarity wants to be honest most of all. And she would do almost anything to let Rainbow Dash know how she feels. So she opens her mouth, ready to plead with a dead pony.

And stops. Because she sees a mouse sit up.

It moves very slowly at first. Forelegs go up, and then back legs shift. The mouse gets to its tiny paws and looks around. It wiggles it’s nose experimentally, and then starts walking around. Rarity stares in horror.

It would all seem so normal. It would look so normal, and the dead mouse might have tricked Rarity into thinking it were really alive. That was, if she hadn’t known it was dead earlier. And also, if the burning piece of shrapnel hadn’t scissored half the mouse’s head off.

Part of its head falls to the ground and the mouse notices it. The small rodents sniffs at the piece of itself like a bit of cheese and nibbles at it. It jerks in alarm as light blue magic lifts it off the ground.

Rarity holds the mouse in her hooves and stares at it. The dead thing wiggles its nose and looks up at her, not afraid, just curious. She looks down at it, and then up at Rainbow Dash. The pegasus is staring at the mouse, looking as perplexed. It’s such a familiar expression that Rarity wants to laugh and cry. But the mouse runs up and down her hooves and she realizes that everything is real, and that knowledge makes her head spin.

“Oh. You have a friend, darling.” Rarity gently pats the mouse on the head and sets it on the ground. Then her eyes roll up in her head and she faints.

Rainbow Dash catches her as she falls and lowers her to the ground. Maybe the pegasus wants to say something. Surely, she can. Her throat is restored, her vocal chords made anew. But she doesn’t speak. There aren’t enough words.

So the dead pegasus puts the unicorn on the ground and stares around her. Ponyville is filled with small fires, scared ponies, wounded Wonderbolts. And all eyes are on her, shocked, frightened, relieved, horrified. She meets the gazes of the living impassively.

And the dead mouse looks at her. And smiles.