Part Eight: Promises

        Rainbow Dash lay on her belly in the sand.  The tide rose and fell calmly as an inner struggle consumed her.  One half of her mind pulled her on, pushed her forward, towards the Spring and the end of this whole mess.  The other half tugged her back, urged her to return to her friends, to fly back the way she had come as fast as she could.  Perhaps a sonic rainboom would convince them to return—they’d see it and follow it back to her, and they could go to the Spring together, just as they always should have.  This half of her mind tugged just as hard as the other half pulled, creating two enormous, contradictory forces that cancelled each other out.  So Rainbow Dash lay on her belly in the sand.

        Memories began to emerge and drift around her imagination like a flurry of film strips.  The Running of the Leaves competition with Applejack.  Fluttershy yelling at a dragon.  Pinkie Pie’s birthday party.  These thoughts shuffled about unbidden, and an intense loneliness came over her.  She always put on a confident exterior, and for the most part it was legitimate; even so, it crumbled when there was nopony around to see it.  Normally this wasn’t an issue, but normally her friends were only a quick shout away.  Though her friends never knew it, Rainbow had much in common with Pinkie and her occasional bouts of depression; of course, Dash’s bouts were never as bad, and they were fewer and further between.  Even so, there were always great horrible clouds looming in the distance, waiting for the moment she was alone and vulnerable—perhaps after she lost a race, or on a day when her friends were too busy to spend time with her.  In moments like these, the clouds would rapidly roll in, clouds she couldn’t easily kick away.  All she needed was some attention—some recognition, an approving nod, a shoulder to lean on, somepony to boast to (in good fun, of course).  Without that, and with the knowledge that her friends were all dealing with the same loneliness, she could hardly function.

        They think I’m a lot tougher than I really am, she thought.  They probably think I’m already there—wherever ‘there’ is.  The Spring?  What does that even look like?  Will I know when I’m there?  She shifted in the sand, got off her belly, and sat up.  Her features shifted as well.  Who am I?  A pony, or a mouse?  I can handle this!  I’m Rainbow Dash!  I could clear the skies of Ponyville between a lightning strike and a thunder clap!  I could fly through Ghastly Gourge eight times with my eyes closed.  I can get up off this stupid sand and get to where I’m going, even if I don’t know where or what it is.

        With new determination she stood up and set off without hesitation, heading the same way she had been going before the clouds had swooped in and darkened her thoughts and spirits.  She lifted into the sky, and even performed a simple trick or two, looping through the air.  This attempt to cheer herself up only made her feel even worse, however, when she realized there was nopony around to marvel at her talent.  She finally realized just how alone she really was.

        At cloud level she hung in the air, head lowered.  Stop your sulking, she thought.  How do you expect to see them again if you can’t go ten lousy minutes without stopping and feeling sorry for yourself?  Get over it!  For Celestia’s sake, I—

        A searing pain bit into her right wing.  She gasped, and the world teetered and spun around her while wind screamed across her ears.  As she fell, spiraling, one of the several objects she kept tucked under her inner wing fell with her.  The ground grew larger and larger, and then she was looking back up at the sky, then at the ground again, now a wall of green, then back at the sky; she spun and spun and could hardly breathe.  The sky was Dash’s domain, the air was her playground, and she was able to keep calm only due to the experience of hundreds of freefalls and drops just like this one.  Moments before the ground took up her entire vision she spread her wings, skillfully curving her downward spiral into an upward drift.  Her heart raced as she slowed to a stop.  She was accustomed to falling, but that had been far too close.  After stabilizing herself and checking her wing for injuries, she peered curiously and cautiously to the ground, searching for whatever it was that had attacked her.

        A glimmer.  She flew to the ground faster than gravity could have pulled her, halting to a stop just above the gleaming object.

“Yes!”  she shouted, her voice cracking in excitement and a hoof thrown in the air.

        It’s the Rose!  Rainbow Dash, you’ve done it again!  See, that wasn’t so hard!  Nothing I couldn’t handle.  I knew it would do this all along!  I guess I follow it now?  It isn’t moving very fast... am I supposed to walk on the ground next to this slowpoke?  She rolled her eyes.  The shard inched its way through the grass.  In the distance, the ocean murmured contentedly.  At this rate I’ll be lucky to reach the Spring by the time I’m old enough to join the—

        Her thoughts were cut off as an enormous blue bolt seared through the noontime sky.  She knew that blast; she recognized the azure color.  Her eyes widened with worry.  That was Rarity’s flare!  She must be in trouble!  She prepared to blast off in the direction of her friend.  Then she remembered the Rose.

What do I do about that thing?  The worry was growing, but along with it came another emotion, one that felt odd and out of place: relief.  Rarity might be in trouble, but saving her meant seeing her, and seeing a friend was exactly what Rainbow Dash needed.  The more she thought about it, however, the more she realized that seeing Rarity again, talking to her, laughing with her, would make leaving her impossible.  She could worry about that later, though; the most important issue was that a friend was in danger.  

Her mind raced as she tried to find a way to get to Rarity without leaving or losing the Rose.  “I can’t bring that thing,” she thought aloud.  “It’s hot, and it’ll keep pulling me back.  Maybe if I wrap it in—” She glanced to the gem in question and cut off.  It was right where it had been before, but now it wasn’t glowing with the same ferocity.  It wasn’t moving, either.  Cautiously, she prodded it with a hoof.  It was warm to her touch, the searing heat as suddenly absent as it had appeared.

        She tucked it under her wing, her face a mixture of surprise, worry, and confusion.  In a powerful gust that flattened the grass below, she took off to save her friend.  As she flew towards the weakening streak in the sky, however, it became increasingly apparent that the more time she spent with Rarity, the harder it would be to leave her again.

***

        Rarity was beginning to panic.  When she had first realized she was trapped, she had been merely annoyed.  The quicksand was an inconvenience, a short obstacle, a bump in the road.  She couldn’t accept for a moment that she was actually in danger—such things simply don’t happen to ponies like her.  The world could never be so cruel; fate wouldn’t allow it.  She would be stuck for twenty minutes or so, then she’d squeeze her way out, or somepony would come help her.  That’s how it always worked, and this should be no exception.

        That’s what she thought three hours ago.  Now the sand was up to her neck, and the water above it was almost to her chin.  She couldn’t lie to herself any longer: she was stuck and there was no escape.  Halfheartedly she squirmed and flexed in an attempt to shift herself out of the indifferent sand, but the result was the same as always; the moment she gained a centimeter of room, more sand filled the gap.  “Agh!”  In frustration she thrashed out as powerfully as she could, heaving with as much force as she could muster between each word.  “Stupid!”  A heave.  “Sand!”  A thrash.  “I don’t have...ugh!...time to...grr!...deal with this!  I have...arg!...friends who need me!  AH!”

        She screamed as she sank another inch, and the tragedy of her situation finally dawned upon her.  This was worse than being stuck.  This was sinking.  She couldn’t wait until somepony rescued her.  By the end of the day, there would be nopony to rescue—only a shallow pool of muddy water with a sand floor.

The world spun around her.  The sand pressed in from all directions.  Strangely, though, it wasn’t uncomfortable.  The soft sand’s touch was gentle, and it fit every contour of her body perfectly, warm and tight, like a full body massage everywhere at once.  The sensation was lulling and—would she dare to admit it?—yes, even pleasant, in an absurd kind of way.  Thoughts of her regular visits to the spa slipped into her mind, and suddenly she wasn’t trapped in the ground but in a jacuzzi in Ponyville with cucumbers over her eyes and mud on her cheeks.

        “Do be a dear and give my shoulders a rub,” she said to the blue spa pony.  “I’ve been walking for days and I haven’t even had a proper bed to sleep in.”  She smiled.  “That’s much better.  And would you mind turning the heat up?  The water is getting cold by my toes.”  She laughed as if she had just said something incredibly funny.

        Suddenly she remembered something.  She turned to the spa pony, who was busy giving her a back massage.  “Could you send in my friend Fluttershy now?  I’ve been waiting for her and she said she would show up.”  This thought felt urgent, imperative, though she wasn’t sure why.  The spa pony looked back blankly and said nothing.

        “Please?” Rarity asked again, growing more and more concerned.  “Send her in.  She should be right outside.”  The pony stared straight through Rarity, unblinking, like a deactivated robot.

        “What kind of service am I paying for here?  I want you to send in my friend Fluttershy this instant!”  The blue pony didn’t even blink.  She just kept staring.  It was unnerving.  Frightening.  Like she wasn’t even there.

        “Fine!  I’ll get her myself!”  Rarity began to leave the jacuzzi, but after moving an inch, the water became thicker, like a gel.  She couldn’t even pull her legs to the surface.  “Hey, what is this?”  she exclaimed, surprised.  Her company stared and stared and said nothing.  “Don’t just stand there, help me out!”  She had already lost hope in gaining the blue pony’s attention.  Instead, she turned as best she could to the curtains that led to the reception area where Fluttershy was undoubtedly waiting.  “Fluttershy!” she shouted.  “Fluttershy, I’m stuck in this jacuzzi and the spa employee has turned to stone!  Could you please come help me?”

        She stared expectantly at the curtain, but there was no response.

        “Fluttershy?”  She began to panic.  “Fluttershy, are you there?”  With  grunts of struggle she turned every which way, her eyes wide with fear.  Suddenly the room itself felt sinister, like a trap that she had unknowingly sprung.  The employee kept staring that stare, and the curtains remained silent.  The quiet was maddening, and she was still trapped, and she felt like even if she pulled the curtains back with magic, beyond them would be nothing but empty blackness.

        “Let me go!”  She fought with ever ounce of her strength.  The thick water would not give, except now it was thick sand, and she was no longer in the spa but back in a wide and empty field.  With a gasp she returned to reality, but was only allowed a brief visit, because in her weariness and shock she passed out into a comforting void of half-sleep.

***

        She drifted in and out of consciousness.

        …

        “Leave me alone,” she mumbled.  The blue spa pony was staring a hole through her.  “Leave me alone...”

        …

        “The Pillars...  there’s only one...”

        …

        “What... what are you doing?  Put me down...”

        …

        “Let me go...”

        …

        Slowly and wearily she opened her eyes.  She was being dragged.  Strong hooves looped under her legs and were pulling her forward.  She felt numb all over.  The colors of the setting sun seemed pleasantly unreal, as if she had escaped the harsh reality in which she was stuck in the ground to an imaginary land where she was free; however, the hooves that dragged her felt too real, the ground beneath her felt too soft for this to be her imagination.

        The dragging halted, and she was gently lowered to the ground.  “Who...” she mumbled weakly, glancing up.  She smiled.  “Dash.  You saw it.  You came.”

        The blue pegasus returned the smile, though there was a sadness in her eyes that Rarity found frightening.  Dash turned around and began walking away.

        “Wait!”  Rarity tried to get up, but everything below her neck felt numb and weak.  She could only raise a hoof to her friend, who looked down, kept walking, and didn’t turned back.  “Rainbow Dash... wait...”

        Dash unfurled her wings and lifted off, gaining speed until the only trace of her was a rainbow ribbon that trailed off into the distance.

        Rarity stared at that colorful trail for some time.  She didn’t know what she should feel.  With a little effort, she finally managed to get to her hooves, though she wasn’t sure if she could walk yet, and if she could she didn’t care.  All that was on her mind was Rainbow Dash, who had come to save her but had left so quickly.  She was alone again, and she would have given all her possessions just to talk to Dash, ask her where she was going, why she had left, why she hadn’t said a word.

        She glanced up to the fading rainbow trail one last time, and the world exploded in a burst of color.  Every ounce of the spectrum flooded the sky in complete silence.  It spread from the end of Dash’s rainbow trail until the air itself seemed to glow with alternating red and blue and green and every other color.  In the distance, a line of grass began bending away with the force of the sonic rainboom, growing closer and closer until suddenly it hit her and broke the still air with the sound of a rumbling wind and a breeze that felt cool and refreshing across her coat and mane.  The red of the setting sun was blotted out by blue and green and orange.  The grass became greener, the sky became bluer, and the appearing stars twinkled not with white but with purple and indigo and yellow.

        Somehow, Rarity suddenly understood everything.  She smiled into the comforting breeze, which cooled her aching body and dried her tears.  Then she gasped in surprise as her pack began to thrash against her back.

***

        As Dash turned away from her friend, fury rose within her.

        Why does it have to be this way?

“Wait!” Rarity shouted, too weak to chase after her.  “Rainbow Dash... wait...”

Dash was absolutely heartbroken.  To leave her friend weak and alone was against everything she had ever known.  She felt like a betrayer.  But she couldn’t look back, she couldn’t run to her friend and embrace her like her heart kept screaming for her to do.  She could only walk on and hope that somehow Rarity would understand that going back now would make finding the Spring impossible.  She spread her wings, and with a gentle puff of air, drifted up into the sky.

It was all she could do to not look back; if she did, her resolve would crumble.  So she flew on, the anger rising—anger at herself for not being strong enough to stay with Rarity for just a little longer; anger at—what was his name?  Thade?—that dark pony who had caused this mess in the first place; even angry at Celestia for allowing herself to be captured.  As she became angrier, she flew faster, pumping her wings furiously.

What self-entitlement does this pony Thade have, anyway?  She thought bitterly.  What makes him so special that he decides he can cheat death?  Does he think he’s the only one who’s lost somepony they cared about?  Her anger translated to speed as she flapped faster and harder.  And he gets to risk the balance of all life in Equestria just because he thinks he deserves more?  Because he’s too weak to deal with loss?  Her growing fury seemed to have unlocked a part of her that saw everything as clearly as the sonic cone that was beginning to form in front of her outstretched hooves.  When I finally meet this Thade, I’ve got a thing or two to say to him, and when I’m through he’s gonna need somepony to bring him back from the dead.

She thought of Rarity lying weakly on the ground, outstretching a hoof for help, and saw again the look that had come over her face when she realized her friend was leaving for a second time.  With a final grunt of righteous fury she tore through the sound barrier, too caught up in her emotions to even notice the enormous spectacle she had just created behind her.

You don’t know it, but we’re coming for you, Thade.  This has to end.  That’s a promise.

***

The time was drawing near.  Thade couldn’t yet see the cracks in the final Pillar, but he could feel them.  The entire rocky cavern seemed to groan around him.  It seemed as if the entire mountain were being held up by nothing more than the final Pillar.

He nervously twitched an ear.  Patience was a skill of his, or he never would have made it this far; patience, however, could only last so long, and now it was being replaced by anxiousness.  His cloak, which he already detested, became too hot.  He felt like a young colt waiting nervously by the door for his first date to arrive, peeking out the window ever few minutes.  Everything had gone smoothly so far—everything except the alicorn.  He should have expected trouble from her.  Even now, while she lay unconscious upon the altar, she worried him.  She was unpredictable, an uncontrollable variable, the only force that could impede upon his progress.  His only choice was to keep her perpetually paralyzed; he had tried to come up with a better solution, but it was too risky to leave her awake.  She had already served her part by unwillingly donating a drop or two of blood, but he couldn’t release her and he was too afraid to attempt to kill her.  Besides, he was not a murderer, despite his earlier threats.  In fact, if anything, he considered himself the opposite of a murderer; he was attempting to restore life, not end it.

An enormous tremble ran through the construct, and he stumbled perilously to the side, scrambling to regain his balance.  A puff of rocky dust fell over him, and he instantly recognized the danger from above.  He had seen the falling rock powder many times in the past few days.  They signaled a shift in the structure of the hard cavern ceiling, and were almost always followed by falling rocks that had shaken loose after millennia of stability.  Without thinking he teleported himself somewhere to his left—he had so little time to react that he couldn’t even specify his destination with certainty.  The cavern shook once more, this time with the skull-grinding crack of rock against rock.  The repercussions traveled through the stone floor like a shockwave, kicking him harshly into the air.  He landed heavily upon his side, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him.  For several moments he lay on the ground in silence, unable to breathe or groan, capable only of wheezing painfully.  The echo of the impact faded within the cavern, but he could still hear it in his head, even after sputtering out a cough and finally regaining his breath.

He shakily turned to the site of the collision, the very spot he had stood upon moments ago.  Half embedded into the rock ground was the boulder that had almost flattened him, a spider web of fissures growing out from the center.

I should be more careful, he thought.  Imagine coming this far, only to be squashed like a bug.  Then I wouldn’t be here, and the ritual would go unfinished, and there would be no justice.  The life that was taken from me... from her... would never be replaced, and that would be the greatest tragedy of all.

Then, from the depths of his mind and heart, another voice spoke:  Perhaps it would have been best if you had been erased by that boulder just now, it said.  The last Pillar would still fall, but without the Word, the Spell, the ritual would never complete, and the risk you are taking (yes, you are aware of the risk, though you pretend you are not) would never be realized.  And if you were dead, you’d be there... in the next world... with her...

No!  he thought, his rather handsome face twisted in an ugly scowl.  Tricks!  Celestia’s tricks!  Those thoughts can’t be my own—she must have planted them in my head!  There are no worlds beyond this one!  There can’t be.  She lies unconscious upon the altar, but she must be faking!  Those thoughts can’t be my own...

But they are, the voice continued sadly.  Are you so naive?  Has no part of you been left uncorrupted by grief?  Think.  If you don’t believe in the worlds beyond this one, from where are you bringing her back?  When she steps through the portal, what is on the other side?  Think.

But, he thought, but... “No,” he said aloud.  “It’s too late.  I can’t stop.  Not after I’ve come so far.”  However, as he walked back to his quarters, he was met by a realization, a revelation that stopped him in his tracks.  The chamber reverberated with the sounds of his hooves against the hard rock floor even after he froze, staring at the curved wall but seeing nothing, lost in thought.

The voice in my head... the thoughts were mine... but the voice was Laska’s.

He stood perfectly still a moment more, his expression unreadable.  Then he ran off to his chamber.

***

Dash was exhausted, sweating and weary from what felt like hours of flying.  The whole time, her thoughts had been a hurricane of worry, anger, fear, and a horrible fury.  Her wings were sore, her ears hurt from the wind, and she was starving.  The sun had long since shrunk behind the horizon, and the evening stars drew patterns in the sky.  The reflection of these patterns was disturbed as Dash drank heavily out of a clear river.

She stopped drinking to catch her breath, and her reflection stared back intently.  Her blue coat was ruffled and unkempt, and her eyes were wet—whether from crying or from the high speed of her flight she did not know nor care.  She closed her eyes while she wiped them, but opened them again when, behind her eyelids, she was greeted with an image: Rarity, her hoof extended, eyes pleading yet also thankful, then the look of confusion as Dash turned away...

Get over it, she thought.  She’s probably past that now, and you should be, too.  You’ll see her again, and you’ll explain everything.  Don’t keep her waiting.  Keep moving.

She began to set off, but realized from experience that it was better to be prepared.  She opened her pack and felt around for her canteen, pulled it out, spent several frustrating minutes fighting the lid open with her mouth, then plunged the item under the gently flowing tide of the river.  After the bubbles stopped, she capped it and put it back in her pack, but not without bumping her hoof against a familiar, hard object.  She pulled out the Rose fragment and placed it on the ground before her.

She stared at it expectantly for a silent moment.  “Well,” she said, “lead the way!”  The stream murmured behind her, the wind whispered gently through the grass, but the fragment stayed put.  Dash growled with frustration.

“Come on!” Her voice cracked on the second word.  “You were doing it earlier!  Get moving!”  She nudged it with a hoof.  It rolled onto another of its intricate edges, but otherwise remained still.

“Ugh!  You no-good gem!  You start moving when I need to help my friend, but you won’t move again when I need you to.”  She chuckled defiantly.  “I could probably find the Spring without your help, anyway.”

She put the infuriatingly immobile rose back into her pack and laced it shut.  Heading out to find the Spring without its help seemed like the only option.  Her wings were still sore when she spread them, but she had dealt with worse before, so with a mighty, painful flap, she took to the sky.

Is this really a good idea? a voice spoke out in her head.  Dash hovered still in the air, considering.  You can’t find it without the Rose.  You’ll only cause trouble for yourself.  The voice was Twilight’s.  Think of what happened to Rarity.  What if something similar happens to you?  Except you can’t send out a magic flare, and even if you could, who would see it?

Ah agree, spoke another familiar voice.  Bad idea.  Wait for the Rose.  That’s what Ah did when Ah got lost.  It’ll work for you, too.

Yes, Fluttershy added.  What Applejack said.

Don’t end up like me, Rarity warned.

Hey, it sure is echo-y here in your head, Rainbow Dash!  Pinkie said.  Helloooooo!  Haha!  Echoooo... echooo.... echo... Ha!  Oh, and don’t go off without the Rose, pleeeeease, Dashie.  We need you.  Please don’t.

Dash lowered herself to the ground.  They had only been voices in her head, but they felt so real, like her friends were actually right beside her instead of somewhere miles away in this strange far-off land.

She began thinking of them, each of them, and was so lost in memories and emotions that she almost didn’t notice the gentle thumping of her pack against her side.  She shook her head, clearing it of times long passed, and unlatched the pack.

She peered inside and grinned.

***

He was close, and he knew it.  The book he sought, the book with the answers, was almost within his grasp.  Supernaturals.  How long since he had last held that book?  A decade?

In the mirror, his reflection stared back at him.  “Soon,” he said to himself.

Then he noticed something peculiar.  His eyebrows rose in surprise.  It must have been his imagination.  What he was seeing was not possible.  He stood up, got a closer look.

“No,” he said, incredulous.  “That can’t happen.  That doesn’t ever happen.”  He stared fearfully at his reflection, then rotated before the mirror.  “That’s not possible!”

From that day forth, he never removed his cloak, lest he see his own reflection and become reminded of a change within himself that he could never accept.

***

Fluttershy couldn’t help but remember her previous experience with mountains, when she and her friends had traveled together to evict the smoke-emitting dragon that plagued Ponyville and the surrounding areas.  She had been terrified of dragons, terrified of heights, terrified of all the other terrifying things that took place in mountain ranges, like avalanches and freezing cold and thin, nearly unbreatheable air.  In the end, however, she had confronted her fears to protect her friends.  Now she was alone, with no friends to protect, and every five-inch gap in the ground seemed a mile wide, every fall seemed to be a million feet down, and every howl of the wind seemed to be the roar of some nearby monstrosity.  Despite this, the Rose continued, and so did she.

With a gentle hiss it pushed across the snowy ground, seemingly floating across the white fluff, for it was so hot that the snow around it was instantly vaporized, creating a warm, easily traversable path for its lone follower.  Fluttershy found its presence comforting.  When she saw it she saw her mother, and through her mother she saw her father, and though she had hardly known him, she felt as if he were watching over her.  In the Rose she also saw her friends; it was split six ways among them, six parts of a whole, separated for now but not forever.  She felt safety in its warm glow, protection in its persevering journey.  The deathly cold of the fierce altitude hardly touched her in its presence.

So she carried on.  Every once in awhile she would become tired, and, perhaps sensing this, the fragment would slow nearly to a stop.  Then she’d be off again, the wind howling but somehow not biting her, the cold everywhere but somehow not chilling her.  Eventually she found herself walking along a narrow ridge, and when she looked down she nearly fell over from dizziness.  She was no longer traveling near mountains; now she was finally in the mountains, the pine trees far below like thick green grass.  Onward still.

After several more minutes of ascending along the path that was not truly a path, the Rose stopped.  Fluttershy watched curiously as it remained still, glowing but no longer moving.  It had stopped suddenly and jarringly, as if it had run into a wall.  She looked around—mountain to her right, widening ridge beneath her, open air and a deadly fall to her left.  Applejack had given her a slight idea as to the appearance of the Spring, but clearly it was nowhere near here.  The sudden stillness of the Rose worried her; she wasn’t sure why, but it had always seemed so confident, like it knew exactly what to do and would never lead her astray.  Now it seemed unsure, confused, almost.

Fluttershy stared, distressed.  Then the world became red; the snow became maroon, the mountain became ruby, the air became violent carmine.  It crept across every surface, so that even the shadows stood out in terrifying relief.  She turned fearfully, afraid but determined to find the source.

An enormous tower of red light ascended to the sky.  Every inch of the giant monolith was crackling with arcs of maroon and crimson and blood red.  The howling wind began to scream.  Where the beam met the sky the clouds swirled around it as if trying to avoid touching this impostor of their celestial haven.

Flutteshy watched in terrified awe, her face glowing slightly from the intense luminosity of the red pillar.  The air around her felt charged, energized beyond its natural capabilities.

This must have been what Applejack was talking about, she thought.  When she was lost and saw a beam... this must be the same thing.

The earth began to shake.  Fluttershy shrieked and reached blindly for the rocky slope to her right, groping for a crevice to grasp and trying not to think about the dizzying drop to her left.  As she found a hold, the earth trembled once more, and the thunder of stone smashing against stone rumbled past her as rock from above broke loose and tumbled down the mountain on both sides of her precarious grip.

She shut her eyes tightly and waited for it to all be over.

***

        Is this really happening?  Am I really about to do this?  His earlier thoughts, those spoken in Laska’s voice, had forced open a new perspective, a new outlook.  With the conclusion of his journey rapidly nearing, implications that he had never considered before were forced to his attention, and details he had deemed unimportant now seemed essential.  The point of no return was at hand, and a decision, the decision, had to be made.  Once the portal opened, she would have to step through.  Thade was certain it would not close until a transfer took place.

Before now he had been closed-minded, unseeing, bent on his one and only objective.  With her so near, however, he became obsessed with her free will, her choice, her decision.  What he felt for her was love—he knew this for a fact.  Love.  Not infatuation, not obsession, not a foal’s crush.  Celestia might not believe it, but he truly loved her, and nothing would ruin him, break his spirits, and crush his hopes more than if she hated him for bringing her back.  So with great deliberation he asked himself: would she want to come back?

Of course she would want to come back.  Why wouldn’t she want to come back?  Who would choose death over life?  That day in Sonselo, I remember what she asked me before... before she slipped away.  I remember the way she looked across the field as she said it, until her eyes met mine.  The memory enveloped him, drew him in until it wasn’t a stone wall he was staring at, but an endless field of flowing crimson and green.  And there she was, across from him, just as always, with a feather on her right wing bent slightly out of place in a way Thade found beautiful.  The memory was the same this time as it had been the first thousand times.

“We can come back sometime, can’t we?”

Thade smiled reassuringly.  “Definitely.”

“Do you promise?”

“Of course.”

Do you promise... do you promise... promise... promise...

***

Applejack had seen this before.  The red beam.  The swirling clouds.  Another Pillar had fallen.  But something was different, this time.  Something was worse.

The last time she had seen this awful phenomena, the Rose fragment had begun to move.  Now the opposite happened, and her fragment lay motionless.  This beam was larger, brighter, louder.  Instead of fading, like the first one she saw, it seemed to be growing stronger.

A creaking from above.  She looked up in time to jump out of the way.  A tree landed where she had stood.  Then it burst into flame, the heat nipping at her astounded face.  One moment it was a fallen tree, the next it was an inferno.

Oh no, Applejack thought.  It was all she could think.  Oh no.  We’re too late.  Oh no.

The creaking sound again, like a sorrowful wail.  Then again, and again, and again.  Trees fell behind her, before her.  Along the side of a neighboring mountain, down before the treeline ended, row after row fell, like rats abandoning a sinking ship.  Then each and every one burst into flame.  It began to hail.

Applejack found cover under the burnt trunk of the tree that had fallen before her.  The fire had burnt out unnaturally fast, leaving a blackened husk of a tree.  From underneath its safety she listened to the thuds of hailfall, watched the beam grow brighter, and hoped and hoped that her friends were all right.

***

So this is it, then, Thade thought.  The final Pillar was a crumbled pile of ancient stone, glowing faintly and dimming by the second.  The cavern was in a state of constant rumbling, and the chatter of falling pebbles carried on incessantly. Celestia lay on the alter, unconscious as ever.  With the last Pillar gone, the structure holding the worlds together, but also holding them apart, was destroyed.  Every universe was in free fall, all tumbling down to the bottom, where, for one short moment, they would intersect.  That was the moment the portal would appear.  After that moment, the worlds, intangible as they are, would simply pass through each other.  After that, Thade wasn’t sure what would happen.  And he didn’t care.  He’d have her back and she’d look him in the eyes and tell him she forgave him, that it wasn’t his fault, that she still loved him.  The rest of the world could burn or rot.  That was all he needed to hear.

She spoke in his mind.  Would I want to live in a world that was burning and rotting?

If you love me half as much as I love you, he thought, the world wouldn’t matter.

He approached the altar where Celestia lay.  Placing booth hooves upon her, he closed his eyes in concentration.  For a moment his horn glowed, and the alicorn glowed the same dark hue.  A faint shimmer of light, a low hum.  Then it was over, and the altar lay bare, with nothing but a stray white wing feather to indicate the sun goddess had been held captive there.  Supposedly teleportation was impossible to and from the Spring, but with the Pillars gone, Thade could finally access that endless store of magic, that bottomless well of strength.  Sending her off had been easy, like blinking.  He felt like he could teleport an entire city, summon a hurricane, turn back time.  He knew better, though.  Becoming power-hungry was a fool’s game.  His intent was more precise and more personal, and now the one thorn in his side was gone.

I hope I sent her near enough to Canterlot.  It’d be a shame if something happened to her and Laska and I could never enjoy another sunrise.  The last Pillar had fallen, the Spring’s powers were beginning to course through him, and there was nothing Celestia could possibly do to stop him; he had no fear freeing her.

You’re contradicting yourself, Thade.  You said the world could rot, and now you say you want to enjoy a sunrise with me?  You have no idea what you’re doing, no clue what might happen now that the Pillars are gone... what happened to you?

“You’re not really her,” he said aloud.  “You’re just the voice of my fears.  Somepony very dear to me once told me to fight my battles.  Consider this a battle I’m about to win.”

With Celestia gone, there was only one last task, a final step, and the portal would open.  All he had to do was say one word.

He checked to ensure the relic was still in the bowl—indeed, the feather, the piece of her, from the first day he met her, was right where he had put it.  He looked around, examining the scene.  The Pillars were dust.  The altar glowed slightly, infused with the power of the Immortal’s blood.  The grey feather that he had saved so many years ago was in the bowl, which was eye-level and attached to a small column.  He adjusted his cloak, took a breath, and closed his eyes.  In the darkness he saw her, saw her as she had been when they were young and innocent and in love in the field of roses.

...Do you promise?...

He closed his eyes, took a breath, then said the Word.

Next Chapter: Part Nine: Hope Estimated time remaining: 60 Minutes