Snow falls around us.

Beakbreaker and I sit on the walkway, watching the road where our daughter drove off into the cold, winter night.

I want to cry. I want to sob, to let my grief out, but the tears don’t come. Beakbreaker and I knew the day would come when we would have to say goodbye to our daughter; we’ve tried to prepare ourselves for the moment when our paths would diverge, never to cross again on this earth. But no matter how hard you try to prepare yourself, nothing can protect you from grief.

Beakbreaker shivers.

I stand, sniffing as I gently pull her towards the house, wanting to get my wife out of this cold. It’s difficult for her to muster the will to walk, but she manages, her hooves scraping along the pavement as we head to the door, where we both head inside. I close the door behind me, the warmth of our home washing the cold away.

“Silverspeak?”

I turn to Beakbreaker. “Yes?”

My wife wipes a tear from her eye, summoning all her strength to keep her from collapsing into an emotional wreck. “We might want to get the will.”

Without a word, I go to the office and retrieve the folder from the safe. Inside is our will, updated a week ago about what is to be done with our possessions, all of which will go to Gold Wing and her family. With our saving accounts, they’ll all be financially set for life; never again will they have to worry about how to pay the bills, allowing all of them to focus on doing what they love.

For a few, precious moments, my grief subsides just a little bit. Knowing that our child and her family will be taken care of takes a weight off my shoulders.

Breathing deeply, I clutch the folder and head back to Beakbreaker, who’s waiting for me by the door.

“Is that everything?”

I nod.

Beakbreaker walks into the living room, taking a seat at the dining table. I do the same, pushing aside napkins and laying the folder atop the colored tablecloth, where it can’t be missed.

“They’ll be okay,” I assure Beakbreaker, putting a hoof around her shoulder.

She manages a small smile.

Holding her tight, I look around. Hearth's Warming lights are still strung about the house, lighting the walls and halls with warm shades of red, green, and blue. The tree still sits in the corner near the back; all five of us were celebrating the holiday a week ago, and it was one of the most magical ones I can ever recall. It had been so long since we had a small child in the house, and the magic of the season – all the cookies, sweets, smells, and songs – were powerful enough that Velvet was able to forget, if only for a day, about the upcoming move.

“You know,” I say, “I think this was one of the best Hearth’s Warmings we’ve ever had.”

Beakbreaker’s smile grows a little bigger. “Yes... yes it was.” She looks to the kitchen counter. “Can you believe we made a hundred cookies?”

“Your best batch.”

A chuckle. “Oh, please-”

“Well, if they hadn’t been so good, Velvet wouldn’t have eaten half of them by herself.”

“And gotten a stomachache.”

“But she still kept eating them.”

Another chuckle. “Yes... children do that.”

We’re silent again.

Looking around, I realize that there’s still a book on the table, left from when we were looking it over on Hearth’s Warming Eve. I pull it over.

It’s our photo album.

Beakbreaker can’t speak as I open the cover, revealing the very first photo we ever took of me, her, and Gold Wing. We’re standing in in the fields on the side of this mountain, before Canterlot was rebuilt, before a new Royal Palace was raised, before the bustling city was reborn. It’s the very first photo ever taken of our family. Beakbreaker and I are beaming, barely able to hold back our tears. Gold Wing – itty, bitty, tiny Gold Wing – is smiling, full of the life and endless energy all youngsters have.

Smiling, I turn the page, More photos show the three of as we started our lives together: Watching construction begin on the new Canterlot. Traveling around the world, visiting beautiful forests, endless, grassy plains, and enjoying ourselves on beaches, where Beakbreaker and I first introduced Gold Wing to the ocean.

We both chuckle at seeing her baffled face at being hit by a wave for the first time, a one-in-a-million shot that the photographer managed to catch.

Turning the page, we find photos of us before our new home in Canterlot. And as the pages go by, Gold Wing grows from a grub to a youngster, and experiences all the things that come with it: Birthday parties, vacations, first days of school, Hearth’s Warming Eves...

I bite my lip as my throat tightens up.

Beside me, Beakbreaker struggles not to cry.

My brain has slowed with age, making it difficult to remember many things, but I can still remember all the memories in these photos: playtimes, gatherings, and the hustle and bustle that comes with raising a child...

Me chasing Gold Wing around, pretending I was a dragon and she a brave and valiant knight...

Helping with homework...

Beakbreaker and I counseling Gold Wing over the end of several failed relationships, drying her tears and holding her tight as she sobbed...

I sniff.

“Those were beautiful years,” Beakbreaker says.

“Yes...” I say. “Yes... they were.”

I reach the end of the album. Tucked in the bottom corner of the last page is a photo of all of us together for this year’s Hearth’s Warming Eve. We’re happy, beaming, and content.

We’re a perfect family.

I gently close the album, putting it beside the will.

Being able to revisit all those old memories… it was wonderful. But what do we do now? Do I reminisce with Beakbreaker about the other memories we’ve had? All the happy times this home has seen? Should I gather mementos of our journeys to different countries across Equs and reminisce about all the sights we saw? Do I start a fire in the fireplace and have the two of us sit before it, soaking up the warmth? Or should I just stay here with Beakbreaker and say nothing? I’m not sure... but I need to make the most of the time we have.

I know, somehow, that it isn’t much.

“Beakbreaker?” I ask quietly.

“Yes?”

“Is there anything you want to do?” I ask. “Anywhere you want to go?”

Beakbreaker regards me for the longest time.

She knows what I’m really asking.

Reaching out, my wife puts a hoof on mine. “I just want to be with you.”

I hold her hoof tightly.

She holds mine back.

“What about you?” Beakbreaker asks. “Is there anywhere you want to go?”

My first reaction is to say that, no, there isn’t. This is our home; it’s our refuge, a sanctuary that’s sheltered and protected us for so many years. There’s nowhere else I’d rather...

Wait...

“Silverspeak?”

In all of Equestria, there is one other place that holds a special meaning to me.

Leaning over, I whisper into my wife’s ear.

For a long moment, Beakbreaker thinks about my words. Then she nods, smiling softly.

“I’d like that,” she says.

Slipping from my chair, I take Beakbreaker’s hoof and head back to the door, where I open the closet and pull out our warmest coats. It’s only going to get colder as the night goes on, and we’ll need all the protection we can get. When the zippers are pulled, the belts tightened, and the scarves in place, I take hold of the door and open it, the cold coming inside as we walk out onto the porch.

Beakbreaker and I look back into our home. It’s served us all as our home, our place of safety, and our refuge from life’s storms.

My gaze lingers on our home for a moment longer... and then I turn out the lights, close the door, and lock it.

Taking Beakbreaker’s hoof, we walk to the sidewalk, and then down the street, leaving our home for the last time.

The snow’s still falling as we make our way up the streets of Canterlot, heading past ponies walking about under the warm, golden lights from buildings and streetlamps. Those lights guide us through the night as we head up through the city, our coats keeping us warm against the bitter cold.

It isn’t long before I feel my eyelids growing heavy, and my mind slowing. It’s been a long day, and it’s starting to catch up with me. Beside me, Beakbreaker’s eyes droop as she struggles to keep going.

Holding her hoof, I wordlessly encourage her onwards.

Our destination isn’t far.

We keep walking, the shops slowly giving way to gardens, statues, and other public displays of art, which come to an end as we reach the Royal Palace, the towers aglow with flickering lights from unseen fireplaces. The top of its tallest tower seems to touch the sky as Beakbreaker and I head to the gates. The guards there are surprised to see us at such a late hour, but make no effort to stop us as we cross over the moat. It’s touching to see their concern for us, and I wish I could thank them, but there isn’t time; all I can give them is the warmest smile I can.

Once we step off the bridge and pass through the gates, Beakbreaker and I head into the palace, making our way through the halls, walking past stained glass windows depicting the greatest, most monumental events that have shaped Equestria into the land it is today. But I don’t look at them; I want to sit down and rest my eyes for just a moment... But I can’t stop. Not here, not now… not when we’re so close.

Beakbreaker leans against me. Shifting my weight, I help her along as we reach a set of doors and pass through, emerging into the Royal Gardens. Twice as grand as their predecessor, they’re one of the most cherished parts of the capital, home to an enormous menagerie of the most beautiful plants, flowers, and trees throughout all of Equs. All are dormant now: the flowers have died, and leaves have long-since fallen from branches. Yet, there’s still beauty to be found here, among all the snow draped upon the grass and the branches.

“We’re almost there,” I whisper to Beakbreaker. “Just a little further.”

My wife nods, steeling herself.

We make our way through the garden, following the path we’ve taken so many times before. And at last, we finally reach the clearing in the garden’s center, where an ornate gazebo sits upon the white stone, a shelter from the sun or the snow.

Beakbreaker and I trudge through the snow and walk inside, heading to a bench near the back. It’s getting harder and harder to stand…

I’m so tired…

I help Beakbreaker sit down on the bench, and then I do the same, sighing as I all but sink into the wood.

It feels so good to sit down...

Beakbreaker leans against me, relieved that we made it.

I pull her close.

We’re silent for a while, watching the snow and the night sky, listening to the soft wind blowing by.

“Silverspeak?”

I look over.

“Are you scared?”

“Are you?”

Beakbreaker shakes her head.

I take her hoof.

It isn’t long before I hear the rapid clip-clop of hoofsteps on the path. Someone’s hurrying to the gazebo. Turning, I look over to see who it is, wondering who else would be out here this late.

I’m not surprised to see who it is.

“Hello, Princess.”

Princess Luna hurries inside the gazebo, relieved to have found us. “Silverspeak. Beakbreaker. The guards sent for me. They were concerned about you two; is something wrong?”

“No,” I say quietly.

Luna studies us, no doubt wondering if we’re in our right mind. “Are you sure?”

Beakbreaker and I look at each other. We’ve told Luna of our dreams, but she doesn’t know about the ones we had this morning.

“Princess,” I say, “our parents visited us last night in our dreams. They told us to use this day well… and that they’d see us very soon.”

Luna stiffens. She doesn’t say anything, but I see in her eyes: She’s see this before.

She knows how it ends.

“Is there anything you want?” Luna asks. “Anything I can do for you?”

“Stay with us,” Beakbreaker says.

Without a word, Luna quickly takes a seat besides my wife.

Someone else comes up to the gazebo. I turn and see another familiar form joining us.

The Princess of the Sun walks to us, as beautiful and ageless as she’s always been. She’s about to ask us why we’re here, but then she sees Luna’s gaze. Like Luna, she’s known about our dreams, and she’s no doubt seen many ponies at the end of their lives.

She realizes why we’re here.

Without a word, she takes a seat beside me.

We all sit in silence for a while.

“We can help you,” Celestia says. “I can renew my spells.”

Beakbreaker and I look to each other, mulling Celestia’s words. We could take her up on her offer. We could take every pill available, every spell available to us, and keep swapping prosthetics to replace parts as they wear out. We could buy more time for Gold Wing, Sea Breeze, and Velvet Dusk. We could have more birthdays, more Hearth’s Warming Eves, more nights like tonight...

And yet... how enjoyable would those years be?

Five years ago, when Beakbreaker discovered that she had cancer, Celestia cast a spell to keep it at bay, like how her spell keeps my own tumor in check. But for all their power, Celestia’s spells aren’t perfect. They contain the tumors, but have to be renewed, typically on the first day of the new year. And for all their strength, they can’t stop the aging of our brains. Remembering things is becoming harder and harder, and there have been times when Beakbreaker and I have forgotten ponies and places we’ve met and seen hundreds of times. Today’s been a good day… no, a glorious one, the best we’ve had in so long… but the bad days have outnumbered the good these past few years, and if the spells wore out, our fragile brains and bodies would quickly succumb to the tumors.

Magic and cybernetics are keeping us alive, but we will continue to deteriorate, even as our cybernetic bodies continue to function, until we’re little more than bodies without souls. We don’t want that; we don’t want to burden Beakbreaker with having to care for two ancient, helpless equines who have lost their minds.

Beakbreaker and I could extend our lives... but something deep inside me says that doing so will only make things worse for everyone.

Looking back to Celestia, I shake my head.

I think Celestia was expecting that answer, but it’s still difficult for her to accept.

I look out to the horizon, taking in the sight of all the stars above us.

“Is there a reason you came here?” Celestia asks.

Beakbreaker reaches into her wallet, pulling out the oldest photo we own. She holds it up for Celestia to see.

It’s the two of us on our wedding night.

“This is where we were married,” Beakbreaker says with a smile.

That’s not entirely true; the garden where we exchanged our vows is long gone. But this new garden is almost in the same spot, the gazebo standing where we became husband and wife so long ago… one of the happiest moments of my life.

With the greatest of care, Celestia takes the picture and looks it over, studying our young, happy faces. She smiles at the sight. “You both look so happy.”

“We were,” Beakbreaker says. “We had our whole lives ahead of us… anything was possible.” My wife smiles at the memory, basking in it, relishing in it… yet, doubt creeps across her face. Worry takes the smile away.

“It didn’t turn out the way you wanted?” Celestia asks.

Beakbreaker’s silent, lost in her thoughts.

Celestia waits.

“I’m glad for Gold Wing,” Beakbreaker says. “I’m grateful for all that I had...” She meets Celestia’s gaze. “Princess… do you think we had good lives?”

“Do you?” Celestia asks.

“Well… I believe we did.”

“I know you did,” Celestia assures her. “Thanks to your efforts, all of Equs now has the technology to restore the crippled, the maimed, and the weak to wholeness. A hundred years ago, such a thing was only a dream.” Celestia smiles. “You have given us all a gift that will be cherished forevermore.”

Beakbreaker’s wrinkled cheeks turn a deep shade of red. “Please, Your Highness, you flatter me.”

“But even if that technology had never been created, you still took an orphan and raised her to be a loving, hardworking, kind adult, who will be a wonderful parent to her own child.”

Beakbreaker blushes once more, all worry and doubt falling away.

Celestia tenderly hands the photo back to Beakbreaker. She then turns to me. “What about you, Silverspeak? Do you think you’ve lived a good life?”

Oh, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve asked myself that over the years. I can’t deny that I’ve done good things with my life… but I can’t deny all the suffering I’ve inflicted. But has all the good I’ve done canceled out the bad?

“I don’t know,” I say.

Celestia nods, understanding. “Few have ever lived a life like yours. You have played both the villain and the hero. You have hurt, and you have healed.” She smiles. “When ponies ask about you in all the years to come, I will tell them of a pony who lost his way and hurt so many... but who had the courage to admit his mistakes, learn from them, made amends, and grow into someone greater than before.”

She puts a leg around my shoulder.

“I will tell others about a pony who proved that you can always find your way back, no matter how far you fall.”

Thirty years ago, Celestia brought me comfort in a way that no one else ever has, before or since. Now, all these years later, she’s doing so again. And once more, her words are like a balm for the soul.

She would use my life as an example of redemption…

I bite my lip, a single tear running down my cheek.

A distant hum catches my attention. Looking up, I watch as an enormous airship glides out from the airport nestled within the mountains. Its engines hum as it turns towards the snow-covered mountains to the north, the hull lit up with hundreds of lights from the cabins within.

Biting my lip, I hold Beakbreaker’s hoof as the airship flies on, carrying our daughter and her family towards their new lives.

The ship slowly, but steadily grows smaller as it heads for the horizon.

And then, with a gentle wink, the lights vanish.

It’s gone.

I squeeze Beakbreaker’s hoof.

She squeezes mine.

I breathe as deeply as I can. The grief is still there, deep within me… and yet, not as strong as it was earlier. My daughter is gone… but she’s heading out to take part in the adventure of life, a task that Beakbreaker and I have done our best to prepare her for, what was perhaps our most important task in life. And we did it.

The task that Celestia gave us so many years ago is finally complete.

Strange… even through the grief, I feel… satisfied. Content.

Peaceful.

We watch the night sky.

Celestia and Luna stay with us. They say nothing, lending their comforting presence.

I close my eyes, relaxing. Whatever comes, I feel ready for it. I...

I stop.

I feel something.

Something’s moving in my head. Energy’s shifting, flickering… fading.

Celestia’s spell…

I look over to Beakbreaker. She has that same, distant gaze, momentarily losing track of her surroundings, as if trying to figure out what she’s feeling. Then she looks to me, her eyes meeting mine.

We realize what this is.

An ache, ever so small, starts to build in my head.

Reaching out, I place my legs around Beakbreaker.

She does the same to me.

Celestia stretches a wing around me, holding me tightly. And beside Beakbreaker, Luna does the same. Their horns light up. I want to say no, to ask them not to stop this… but then the ache goes away. It vanishes.

The Sisters… they’re not trying to keep us alive. They’re making sure there’s no pain.

I want to thank them, but fatigue washes over me, a tiredness I’ve never felt before. It’s not like the fatigue one feels at the end of a long, hard day. It’s so much stronger... as if all the weariness of life is washing over me all at once.

I struggle to keep my eyes open, focusing on Beakbreaker, holding her tightly.

She does the same to me.

I try to hold the fatigue back, to keep it at bay for just a few seconds more. But it’s stronger than me.

I can’t hold it back.

Celestia... this is it.

This is the end.

My thoughts flash to Gold Wing. It will be hard for her when she hears the news. There will be grief. There will be tears. But she will have her husband and daughter to comfort her, and the memory of knowing that the last time she saw her parents, they were healthy, happy, and told her how much they loved her. And in time, she will heal. She will continue with her life, and one day, far from now, we will be united again.

Then the thought’s gone, fleeing like a breeze on the wind.

I’m fading…

I’m falling away… And yet… I’m not scared. I’m not afraid.

I’ve already died before.

I look at Beakbreaker. I want her to be the last thing I ever see in this life, the one being I treasure and cherish more than anything, more than life itself.

With the last of my strength, I pull Beakbreaker close to me, holding her as tightly as I can. And as I do so, her legs grip me, too.

I lean against her, feeling her warmth against my cheeks.

“I love you.” I whisper.

Her grip tightens around me.

“I love you.”

Beakbreaker leans into me, relaxing… Smiling...

Her eyes close.

I watch her… My wife…

My Beakbreaker…

I close my eyes…

I hold her tight.

I smile...

…

I let go.

.