Karon didn't move, he didn't breathe. He could do nothing but feel a horrid sense of wrongness grow as he stared into Twilight's eyes, because something in them had changed. She had lost something vital that Karon had always known was there ever since he first looked into those deep purple orbs.

She moved out of the bush slowly, each step as heavy as if she'd been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. She stopped halfway to Karon, close enough that he could hear her whisper, but far enough away that the gap between them was plain to see.

”How could you?” she asked in a horrified whisper.

”Twilight … please,” he begged.

”Do you even remember that place!? The emptiness!?”

”He tried to burn you,” Karon tried to explain, his voice hoarse from held back tears.

Twilight did not try to hold anything back, and the tears streamed down her face freely.

”I still have nightmares about that place! Losing...everything, forgetting what it feels to be alive. Nothing deserves that, nothing,” she said.

Karon's entire body began shaking. Twilight was looking at him like he was a stranger, her eyes held nothing but accusation for him. Condemning him.

“He tried to burn you,” Karon repeated, trying to make her understand.

But there was no understanding in her eyes, and when she spoke, it was with a voice of a final judgment.

“Don't come back to Ponyville.I don't... I don't want the others to know what you have done. Go away, please leave and don't return to us.”

“Twilight...” Karon said and took a step towards her.

Immediately Twilight shied back and the look on her face said she was afraid of him. He stopped, his hands stretched out towards her. His eyes pleaded with her, 'stay', 'let me try and make you understand'.

She backed another step, and her voice broke with her final words.

“Leave Karon.”

She turned and rushed away with the sound of her sobbing carrying through the forest, leaving Karon alone and unable to hold back his tears. He didn't move. He just stared at where Twilight had disappeared into the forest deep. Some small part of him clung to the hope she was going to return and say she didn't mean it.

She didn't return, and he continued to stand still while the cold mist seeped through his clothes and clung to his skin like death's ghostly touch. The forest tried to speak to him with its ancient wisdom, Promise tried to speak to him with words of dedication and loyalty. He could hear nothing of what they'd said, it was all noise right now.

The only thing he understood was that he had looked into Twilight's eyes and watched as something had died inside her. He had never realized how important she was to him, that there had been something within her which he relied upon. And now, whatever it had been, it was gone.

His heart was beating slowly, and he could feel the steady pulse as blood flowed through his veins. It was blood and it was breath, but there was no life. The heat of it was leaving him slowly, and each heartbeat seemed to be a little fainter than the last.

It felt like dying.

He was beyond understanding why he would be, but there was no uncertainty in the feeling; his life was ebbing out of him, and he didn't care. He had lost Twilight, he had lost something within her he couldn't afford to lose, and there was nothing unfair in it. He had done something awful, perhaps beyond redemption, and now he was paying for it.

“She doesn't understand.”

The voice was solemn, and it took a long time before Karon could manage a response.

“It doesn't matter.”

“It matters to her. Whatever our fate may be, this moment will haunt her. She still remembers the emptiness and she will never forget. But perhaps if she knew the whole truth, she would understand. Not forgive, but understand.”

“What difference would it make?”

“Our judgment will be whatever it may be, but no matter if our story will end here or in a thousand years, she will remember us. How she does will be decided by our actions at this moment. Whether we live or die, accept damnation or surrender ourselves to fate, the question still stands; are we going to let Twilight know us, truly know all of us? She has seen much, been within our mind and has seen most of what can be found in there, but she has not seen what lies at our center. What has driven us for these past fifteen years.”

“It will kill us, shatter every part of our being. I only stayed sane because I locked those memories away.”

“We are already dying, and our sanity has always been a matter of debate.”

“So this is it?”

“Do you remember what the monkey said, when he talked about what would happen if we opened the door? He said, 'the time to face what happened is the time you risk that happening anyway if you don't'.”

“Bastard knew this was coming.”

“Bastard also told us what we need to do.”

Karon felt the mist caress his skin almost tenderly, cold hands stretching from beyond life and grave. It chilled his arms and legs, but in his chest there was a fire burning that had been doing so for fifteen years. It was his choice, to let the cold claim him and leave him as an icy shell, or to let loose a fire that would incinerate him, body, mind and soul.  

“Not for us, for Twilight. She needs to know just what it takes to drive a man to cast someone out into the void. She needs to understand.”

“Then let's show her.”

Slowly, Karon took a breath, his heartbeat became stronger, and heat returned to his blood. The ghostly touch of the mist was shed like the last drops of rain from the sky, and Karon moved forward with the determined steps of someone who had accepted defeat.

His thoughts briefly brushed upon Trixie and Lyra. They had stuck with him through so much, and he felt a content peacefulness that Lyra at least had received what she deserved. Trixie would be heartbroken when he didn't return, but she would heal, and she would move on.

There was a tingling within his bones, almost like he was suffering from vertigo as he walked underneath the dark trees. But then again, he guessed he was standing on an edge, balancing on the tip of an abyss.

Around him he felt the forest react to him in a strange way, it felt almost melancholy. However, underneath was a certainty born out of seeing a thousand cycles of life and death pass by. He would return one day.

Karon did not share the certainty, and he didn't feel it mattered. Twilight was all that mattered now.

“Do you think we will return?”

“No, I think this will be our end.”

“Then why aren't you arguing against this?”

“Because it means we won't have those memories alone.”

When Karon crossed the boundary between the Everfree and Equestria, his connection to the forest was cut, and he began shaking when he realized just how alone he felt. In his hands, Promise was reassuring him that it was still with him, and would be to the end. Despite that, Karon needed a few minutes where he leaned heavily on the spear, trying to control his trembling legs.

With every moment that passed, his resolve was weakening, and the dread at what he would have to face if he opened the door was growing stronger. He took several deep breaths and forced his legs to move. He couldn't allow himself to stop now. If he did, he wouldn't dare go through with it. He was too afraid.

His perception shifted. One moment he was walking underneath a sunny Equestrian sky, and the next he was walking amidst burning ruins. At first his heart nearly stopped when he thought his memories had been torn free, but he quickly realized it was no memory. He blinked his eyes hard, and he was back in Equstria, but a few steps later he was surrounded by fire again. There were screams and roars that drowned everything else out, and before his eyes images flashed.

A city on fire. A dragon's roar. A joyless and spiteful laugh. A weeping unicorn colt trapped in a circle of blood stained jackals. A paradise restored. A paradise lost. One soul saved, a million souls saved. One soul condemned and a million souls lost.

Karon staggered from the rush of images, but they were more than that. They were possibilities. He was walking a crossroad, and he was seeing glimpses of what could be. The future wanted him to know what he might be giving up.

He saw the house to which all roads eventually led. He felt a kiss of true love. He felt his heart break and be made whole time and time again. He felt power beyond anything he had ever felt course through his spirit like liquid life.

It crushed him, and he fell to his knees breathing heavily, and in his ear whispered a voice belonging to a stranger, and yet more familiar than any other.

“Be strong.”

With a tremendous effort he pushed himself off the ground and staggered away, squeezing his eyes shut and rushing forward blindly, but he could not escape the visions.

Innocence lost. A torn heart. Gold. Artifacts. A demon. Fools. An angel. A scarred hero. Gods. A cursed beast. Spirits. A blind magician. Two strangers in a smoky corner. Hope ripped apart. A thousand pains suffered. Death. Death. Death. Death. A golden light.

A starlit path.

A cunning deceit.

A final question.

He couldn't take it, and he screamed. It was far too much, and he was too weak to handle all of it. The burden of what could be was heavier than he could bear. But he immediately fell silent when he heard a voice cut through the scream, and the visions were cut off instantly.

“Karon?”

He opened his eyes, and saw Twilight standing just a few steps away. She was staring at him with fear in her eyes. He moved slowly, afraid he would scare her away.

“Twilight … I need to show you something,” he said carefully.

“I can't. I have already seen more than I ever wanted to,” she replied and turned to walk away.

“The black door,” he said. “I need to … I need you to know.”

“It doesn't matter Karon! Nothing you can show me will change what you did.”

“No, but it will show you why.”

“It wont matter. Nothing can excu-”

“No excuses Twilight. Only truth, this one time there will be nothing else. Please, before you leave me, I want you to see … me.”

She hesitated, and the conflict was plain to see on her face. In the end, what stopped her from leaving him and instead made her approach him wasn't love, or hope or the possibility of redemption. It was the simple fact that Twilight was Twilight, and if she didn't find out what was behind the door now, she would always wonder.

Karon looked down into her eyes and saw nothing but accusation in them. But she had given him this one chance, not to earn forgiveness but to show who he was before he disappeared.

“Here?” he asked.

Her eyes hardened around the edges. It was one chance, right here, right now. No compromise.

Karon nodded slowly and sat down cross legged in the grass, and Twilight sat down in front of him. It was obvious she was uncomfortable being so close to him, and when he stretched out his hand towards her face she reeled back.

“I need to touch you,” he explained.

She relaxed a little, and with an unreadable look on her face, Karon placed two fingers on her temple. Through his fingers a small charge leapt, and their minds connected. There was a flood of thoughts and emotions that were exchanged at that moment. Karon felt Twilight's despair from what she'd seen, the feeling of betrayal and the terror she held for the void. She pitied Discord for his unkind fate, and she couldn't believe Karon had ever done such a horrible thing. Karon felt it all, and in return she felt all of him.

She felt his pain and his certainty that this would kill him, and that he would one way or another meet his end this day from what he was about to go through again. Her horror at what had happened only increased when she felt this certainty. Before she could waver in her decision to let him show her what was behind the door, Karon sent a burst of energy into the connection and both of them were sucked deep into his inner mind.

                                      ***********************************************

They stood within his inner library. Above them, the huge chandelier spreading its golden light flickered uncertainly, and the air was charged with tension. Without a word, Karon started up the stairs to the third floor, and Twilight followed in silence, her eyes inevitably drawn to the chandelier with concern.

When they reached the third floor, Karon stood still, his gaze transfixed on the door before them. Twilight noticed that there was only one chain on the door now, whereas the last time she had seen it, there had been many. She didn't know what had prompted the change, but she could feel it was scaring Karon.

His fear was a palpable thing, as solid and undeniable as anything else inside his mind. Despite what he had done, Twilight felt pity when she looked at him, trembling before a door she knew he was certain would break him once it opened.

She laid a hoof on his arm, and instantly his eyes snapped down to hers with rising panic. Twilight grew even more uncertain about continuing, but there was a sense that it was important they face whatever it was that Karon had locked behind that door. So she gently nudged him forward, and she knew that if it hadn't been for her presence, he would never have had the strength to walk up to that door.

She watched as he moved his hands over the chain, and with an angry hiss it began rattling like an enraged snake. Karon winced when he felt the stinging sensation from the chain crawl up his arm, but he didn't falter. The chain had been forged through desperation, hate and despair and had grown stronger with each passing year.

Even so, it was breaking underneath Karon's pressure. Born out of a desperation even greater than that which the chains had been forged from, he needed Twilight to know. He needed someone to know before he met his end and to render judgment upon him for what they would see.

With an almighty crack, the links of the chain shattered into dust and Karon stumbled backwards. Twilight steadied him, and together they watched as the black door burned away. The bright flames it had held at bay were consuming it from inside, and the screams grew louder and louder. Twilight heard Karon whimper, and she felt his body tense like he was about to flee.

But it was far too late, and with a roar, the door disappeared in the inferno, and neither Twilight or Karon had a chance to react before it exploded outwards and engulfed them in flame.

                                    ***********************************************

The sun was shining strong, and the smell of pine trees drifted upon the wind. Erik stood on the far side of the house, overlooking the valley that rested down the mountain slope. Despite the strong light provided by the sun, the hour was drawing late, and the summer heat was fading into a pleasant coolness.

There were sounds of the TV coming from inside the house, and with a tiny annoyed sigh, the boy turned from the majestic view and went back inside.

“Have they called yet?” he asked his big sister, who was reclining on the couch lazily and watching some of her stupid shows.

“They called like ten minutes ago,” she replied absently without taking her eyes off the screen.

“What? Why didn't you tell me?” he complained in a whiny tone he knew she hated.

“Stop talking like that you cry baby. I was busy obviously, and they said they would be home in a couple of hours.”

“But they're late already,” Erik went on.

“Like that's my fault. They said they'd order takeout on the way back,” the sister said and raised the volume.

Erik wasn't dissuaded by that, and simply raised his own voice in response.

“But it's Friday!”

“I know that! Just get over it!” the sister shouted back and threw a pillow in his direction.

Erik stomped off angrily after throwing the pillow back at her, which resulted in a barrage of swear words he memorized for later, so that if she was being difficult, he could threaten to tell mom or dad about what she'd said.

He went back outside and sat down on a big rock located at the far end of the yard. The forest's trees had been cleared in a small area around the house to provide room for the grass they'd planted when they first moved out there. When he was very small, Erik and the rest of his family had been living in a ordinary house back in the city, but his parents had wanted to move out into the forest for some reason.

He hadn't liked it at first. His mom and dad had always gone on about it being better air and much healthier for all of them, but everything was just forest and the only one to play with was his sister, and she always busy with something else. But with time, he had gotten used to it even though there wasn't much of anything fun to do around the house.

He sat on the rock and watched the sun slowly descend towards the horizon. He felt angry that his stupid parents had had to do some stupid adult stuff instead of coming home like they were supposed to. It was Friday and the four of them always made food in the open fireplace instead of in the kitchen, and his dad would read aloud from a book while they ate marshmallows.

It was the only time his sister wasn't allowed to be a pain in the ass, and he didn't want to lose that. Besides, he loved the fire. He could sit for hours and just stare into the pretty flames while his dad read from the book, it made him feel safe and warm.

Eventually he grew tired of the annoying flies buzzing around and trying to bite him, and he went back inside without having improved his mood one bit.

His sister had retreated back into her room and left the TV alone, so he sat down on the couch and flicked through the channels until he found something mildly entertaining to watch. It was one of those shows where adults run around and chase ghosts in real life, and when it got scary he pulled one of the blankets lying on the couch closer to himself, though only after he had looked around to make sure his sister didn't see him.

The sun had disappeared down the horizon over an hour before his parents got home, and by then all hopes of maybe them managing to squeeze in the usual Friday evening was long lost. His mom and dad looked exhausted, and they took off their shoes and smiled tiredly when they saw Erik sitting on the couch with a sour face.

“I'm sorry honey but we're just too tired for Friday night, okay?” his mother told him and brought a bag of take out with her into the kitchen.

Erik stared at the bag all the way like the devil was hiding inside it, and his father walked up to him with a bemused look on his face.

“Don't look so angry Erik. Next week will come around faster if you don't spend it angry,” he said and put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder.

Erik didn't respond other than making a noncommittal sound and dragging his feet into the kitchen. The family ate there together, mostly in silence. Erik was busy sulking and his parents were too tired for any longer conversation. That left his big sister to comment on stuff she thought was important and to keep pleading with them to buy her a scooter now since she was fifteen. Erik would have thought that after four months she would have given up.

Both of them had to go to bed after supper, and while his big sister Lina complained loudly that she was far too old to be ushered to bed, Erik offered no resistance.

Twenty minutes later, the house was silent and all the lights were out. Erik laid in his bed while pretending to be asleep, opening his eyes and checking the watch next to his bed every now and then.

When two hours had passed, he lost all patience and got out of bed, silently tiptoeing out of his room and back down the stairs. He had learned years ago where the creaky parts of the floor were, and once he was downstairs he breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone's bedrooms were upstairs, and it was unlikely they would hear anything through the thick floors.

He sneaked over to the kitchen and got out the bag of marshmallows. He was still full after the stupid take out food, but that wouldn't stop him from at least enjoying the roasted fluffy goodness. He took the marshmallows over to the fireplace, which was probably the grandest part of the house. It was huge, and unlike the rest of the house which was all made out of oak colored wood, the fireplace was delicately carved stone of some kind with swirling patterns around it.

Erik carefully stood in front of it and listened hard; he could hear no sound coming from upstairs at all, hopefully that meant that the others were deep asleep. He knew he wasn't supposed to do what he was doing, and he had been told many times that it was dangerous, but parents always said that about everything, and he would be careful.

He slowly put four big logs inside the fireplace and piled two of them on top of the lower pair, and in the middle he shoved a bunch of newspaper pages. He tried to be as quiet as possible, but some noise couldn't be avoided, and he knew that if he was busted now, he would be in so much trouble.

Not that it was his fault. They'd been the ones that got home late because they were too busy doing adult stuff instead of coming home like they were supposed to; he just wanted to sit in front of the fire for a little while.

He lit a match and stuck it in the mashed newspapers before quickly pulling back his hand. It took a couple of seconds before he was sure that it had caught fire, but when the flames began to lick at the wood, Erik sat back with a content smile.

The fire blossomed quickly after that, and soon Erik was basking in the heat it offered. He followed the dancing flames with eyes so dreamy that it was almost like he was in a trance. Fire had always been magical to him, and there was no thought in his head that it would ever hurt him no matter how many times his mom or dad had warned him.

Fire was beautiful, and it was bright and warm. Fire felt like Christmas morning in the winter, or Halloween in the fall. It was a magical thing that was special, not wrong or evil or anything, and he didn't want to go another week without having at least enjoyed it; it was the least he deserved after putting up with his sister all the time.

He took one of the metal pokers that stood next to the fireplace and put two marshmallows on it. He let the flames of the fire lick at them until the shell was brown and crispy, and after he had eaten them, he did the same with another pair.

After six marshmallows, he was joyfully content and had forgiven his parents for skipping out on Friday evening. He was even prepared to overlook that his sister was such a pain in the ass. They were his family and he loved them.

He twitched when he heard a sound coming from upstairs, and he sat frozen and swallowed hard while he listened intently. The fire sparked with what now seemed like a roar of noise, and he had the urge to turn to it and tell it to hush.

He heard another creak, and in panic he shoved the bag of marshmallows closed and ran back to the kitchen on the tip of his toes. He put the bag back where it belonged and hurried back to the fireplace.

In front of it was a kind of metal grating that one could put before it to keep logs from falling out, not that Erik had ever understood how such a thing could happen. Nervously, he blocked off the fireplace with it, and looked towards the stairs. There was no reason for them to come downstairs at night, especially not if his parents were really tired and just wanted to sleep. Even so, it wasn't uncommon for his mother to sometimes go in and check on him while he was sleeping.

And if she did so now, she would find him missing, and she would go looking for him and realize that he had made a fire while they were sleeping. He would never hear the end of that.

Erik turned his eyes to the fire for a few seconds before making his decisions. There was no reason to worry. It was going to die down soon enough. The chance of some spark flying out and setting something on fire was like, one in a trazillion.

He turned away from the fire and sneaked towards the stairs, and before he went upstairs, he looked at the light from the fire shining out into the doorway. It brought him comfort. He didn't really know why. He just knew fire was special, and when he was looking into it, he felt like he could one day be special too.

He hurried up the stairs with careful steps, and when he got back into his room, he crawled into his bed and pulled the covers over himself, completely satisfied. Now his weekend wouldn't be spoiled, and maybe he could do something nice with his mom and dad just to show he wasn't mad at them.

It was a nice idea, and soon sleep was tugging at his mind. He fell asleep with a happy smile on his lips, and drifted into joyful dreams.

                                       *************************************

Erik's eyes fluttered open to an incessant shrill sound that gnawed at his peaceful sleep, but as soon as he sat up and rubbed his eyes, he started coughing. Surprised, he looked around the room and saw it was blurry. He coughed again violently and bent over clutching his chest. He tried rubbing his eyes hard again, and that was when he realized it wasn't his eyes or sleepiness, his room was filled with smoke.

He stumbled out of bed and headed towards the door, but before he got there, it burst open and his father rushed in with a terrified expression on his face. It was something Erik had never seen on his father before, and it instantly made him feel afraid too.

His father ran forward and scooped him up into his arms, then turned and ran out back into the hallway. His father was coughing hard as well, but he didn't let it stop him as he headed towards his own room hunched over.

Everywhere there was the sound of burning, crackling louder than anything Erik had ever heard before. The heat was even worse than that one time he had spilled boiling water on his leg, and it was sucking his breath out of his lungs.

His father carried him into his parent's room, and immediately hurried over to the window. Their room was the only one with a window on the front side of the house, underneath which there was a small shed surrounded by soft grass. All the other windows were placed to give a view of the mountain slope and the valley that lied at its base, but it also meant they were very high above the ground, and if you fell you could be rolling down the slope for a long time before you hit a tree.

Erik shrunk into a small ball when his father let go of him and opened the window, and in answer, the fire roared even louder than before. He grabbed Erik's arms and hauled him up to his feet before dragging him to the window. There he helped the boy up on the windowsill before grabbing both his arms and lowering him down towards the shed's roof.

Everywhere the fire was burning, and Erik thought his skin was going to melt from the terrible heat. He looked up at his father, and he in turn looked down on his son with desperation in his eyes. He released his grip, and Erik fell down on the shed with a soft impact. Even so, now that he was once again exposed to fresh air, it was enough to send him into a fit of coughing that felt like it was tearing his chest apart.

The house was groaning, like the fire was beating down on it, trying to make it break. He stumbled to the edge of the shed's roof and jumped down to the ground where he slipped and rolled clumsily sideways. He laid still for a moment just coughing, and with tear filled eyes, he looked up towards the window and saw that his mom and dad were helping his sister out the same way.

But before she could get more than one leg out the window, the house shuddered, and with a terrible crack, part of the roof collapsed on top of them.

Erik watched as his father had just enough time to push his sister as hard as he could out the window before the burning wood fell down on him. His sister was flung backwards, and she only hit the far edge of the shed and bounced off it. She spun in the air, and came to a stop when she landed on top of the lawnmower standing next to the shed. She landed on it with her back, and she cried out when she hit it and didn't move beyond coughing afterward.

Erik ran forward to her and grabbed her hands, trying with all his strength to yank her up on her feet, but it didn't work. She clutched at him hard, but her legs flopped uselessly, and he ended up having to drag her as best he could away from the burning house.

When they were far enough away that they could feel the night air, almost cold now after having suffered through the intense heat of the fire, Erik let go and fell down on the ground beside her. He hadn't noticed it before, he had been too intent on saving his sister, but from inside the house came the sound of screaming.

He couldn't stop himself from looking back up at the window, and when he did he saw his father's arm still sticking out the window in a bad angle. Erik heard him screaming in pain. He was trapped between burning wood, as was his mother. They were burning, and he couldn't do anything but stand and watch.

So he did. He stood still and watched as the fire burned his parents alive and destroyed his home with them. He watched the dancing flames, as he had done so many times before.

It took a long time before the fire trucks arrived – they didn't live near any of the larger city's after all – and the firetrucks were there only because one of the families living down in the valley had seen the fire and called it in.

It didn't help at all. They came with roaring sirens and started spraying water on what little was left of the charred ruin as quickly as they could. It didn't matter. The screams had stopped before they even got there.

There had been police and ambulances with them too. Erik was sitting in one of the seats in the ambulance now, and a thick blanket had been draped around him. They had forced him to breath through a mask of some kind and had wanted him to lie down on a stretcher like his sister, but he had refused. He had shrieked and kicked and tried to bite anyone that dared to push him down, and after a woman had come and checked up on him, they had left him inside the ambulance alone.

The coughing would come back all the time, and sometimes when he breathed, he could see little trickles of smoke come out of his mouth. His chest felt like it was filled with sour acid, and he couldn't stop shaking. He was surprised that he wasn't crying, and he thought it might be because the fire had been so warm that it had burned away all his tears and that he could never cry again.

He wished it wasn't true, he wanted to cry. His sister had been crying, wailing even when they took her away in the other ambulance. It would feel so much better if he could.

The people were running around and talking to one another, sometimes looking at Erik sitting alone in the ambulance with pity. Why did they treat him so nicely? Why weren't they shouting and screaming and hurting him? Didn't they understand? He had started a fire, and later the house had started burning when he was asleep.

It was his fault.

Eventually another car arrived at the scene, and out of it stepped Erik's uncle Leif, his father's brother. He had a grief stricken look on his face, and he walked towards the blacks bags containing the charred skeletons of Erik's parents. He stared at them for a very long time, until eventually one of the ambulance men walked up to him and pointed to where Erik was sitting.

He opened the door to the ambulance carefully and looked down on Erik with a confused face, like he wasn't certain what he should say.

“Hey … how do you fee- I mean … how are you?”

Erik looked up at his uncle with an empty stare. He had never really noticed before how stupid adults could be. Leif must have known what a dumb question it was himself because he was squirming while trying to figure out what to say.

In the end he simply told the boy, “Come, we should head back home,” before leading Erik to his car.

Adults were stupid. Leif was stupid. He couldn't go home. Home had died in the fire together with his mom and dad, and it had been his fault.

His uncle drove them for hours before they reached his house, which was located in the nearest big city. Everything seemed to be made of concrete wherever he looked, and it was all lit by the yellow streetlights. It brought him some sense of calm knowing fire wouldn't eat through it all like it was nothing.

Leif didn't speak much, merely lead the way up to his apartment in the large building. Inside it there was a guest room that Erik was told he could sleep in while his uncle called and checked up on Lina.

He heard his uncle speaking through the closed door, even though he couldn't make out the words. His head was strange. It felt fuzzy and like everything was far away from him. He didn't know what else to do, so he turned around, faced the wall and waited for sleep, still wondering why he wouldn't start crying.

He woke up with the room awash in the summer sun's light, shining trough the half opened window. He stared at the wall for a long time, his expression empty, before he remembered what had happened. When he did, he pulled his cover a little tighter around himself and laid still.

He didn't think or feel. He just laid still and stared at the blank white wall for hours. In the back of his mind he could still hear the sound of the fire burning. Eventually he heard someone knocking on the door, and Leif opened it slowly and asked, “Hey … the hospital just called me. They say Lina is awake and can receive visitors now. Do you want to come?”

Erik did. His mind was beginning to churn again at the thought of seeing his sister; she was still with him. But his body didn't want to move, it felt heavy. It was like his brain was just sloshing around freely inside his head, unable to make his body do anything.

“Erik?” Leif asked again and moved into the room.

His uncle put a hand on his shoulder for comfort, checking if perhaps he was asleep. The touch triggered some part of his brain, and Erik slowly turned around and stared into his uncle's eyes. The man was unnerved by what he saw for some reason, so he backed off and said, “I will be leaving in a couple of minutes. If you want to come, get dressed and we'll drive there.”

Erik got dressed mechanically, and together he and his uncle drove to the hospital where his sister was staying. When they arrived, they had to pass through white hallways with bright lights that made Erik's eyes hurt, and the sterile smelling air was even worse.

In counterpoint to the sterile environment, there were sick people everywhere he looked, coughing, sneezing or just sitting down and looking miserable. Erik wondered if anyone they knew had died here, or if any of the miserable looking people had accidentally killed anyone they loved.

When they got to Lina's room, Leif stopped outside before going in and turned to Erik with a pained look on his face.

“Erik … the doctor who called last night said that your sister hasn't taken what happened well. And also … she hurt her back when she fell. Her spine is broken and the doctor said that she won't be able to walk again.”

Erik flinched when he heard it, and it felt like there were pins pricking inside his skull. She wouldn't be able to walk? To run? Would she be sitting in a wheelchair for the rest of her life?

“She won't be able to drive a scooter now,” he said quietly.

His uncle looked down on him surprised, but nodded for lack of anything better to do. Then he opened the door and they both went inside.

Lina was lying in her bed staring up at the ceiling. Next to her there was a small table upon which sat a tray of untouched food. She didn't react to them at all as they walked up to the side of her bed, not even when Leif squeezed her hand. Her eyes didn't move at all. She just stared out into nothing.

“Lina,” Leif tried, but earned no reaction.

He tried a few more times, and when he succeeded no better than the first time, he went in search of a doctor and left Erik alone with his sister.

The boy hesitated, then put a hand on Lina's arm and pleaded softly, “Please … Lina, please say something.”

No reaction, she just stared off into empty space.

When Leif returned, he had a doctor with him, a tired looking old doctor. He said that Lina had some complicated, long word and it would take a lot of time and care before she could begin to recover. Erik felt cold when the doctor said Lina should be allowed to stay at some other place instead of going home and being with her brother.

When they left the hospital, Erik remained silent no matter what his uncle tried to get him talking, and when they got back to his apartment, he forced himself to eat a little, then went to sleep despite it still being the middle of the day.

That was how he passed his days, sleeping and staring at the blank wall, until one day another man showed up. Erik heard him ring the bell and his uncle invite him in, and since they had received no visitors in the time after the boy had moved in, it was enough to prompt him to get out of bed and listen in to the conversation.

“- and they have concluded that it was an accident, most likely a small spark from the fireplace or something of the kind. It holds up for the insurance claim on the house, and coupled with the sizable life insurance for both parents, the children will inherit a very large sum of money. It is expected  that it will go towards helping to support them in their hour of need, especially for the daughter as I understand her psychological state is very concerning.”

Erik's eyes widened in horror at what he heard the strange man said. He … he had burned their house and made their parents die, and now they were paying him for it?

He threw up in the floor, emptying his stomach of what little it had, and he remained on the floor, sobbing, the acid tang of the vomit mixing with the flood of tears that streamed down his cheeks. He keened loudly with each sharp breath he took, and his uncle had rushed into his room and tried to comfort him. Erik had only lashed out and shrieked louder when he tried.

Eventually he had worn himself out, and he had fallen asleep. The day after, a psychiatrist had come to the apartment, and was trying to talk with Erik. She asked a lot of stupid questions, and he found the fact that she was always writing things down to be very annoying. She said it was okay, and that everything would work out for the best in the end. That what he was feeling was shock, and when Erik finally whispered to her that it was all his fault, she had just calmly told him that it was something called survivor's guilt.

He had screamed at her after she had said that, and thrown everything within reach towards her until she ran out of the room. They were all stupid. It wasn't anything called survivor's guilt; it was just the guilt of a murderer.

Leif went back to work after a week. He told Erik not to leave the apartment until he got back, but after the first day, the loneliness had become unbearable. And so, the next day after Leif went to work, Erik left the apartment and took a bus to the place where his sister was staying. The people there were very nice when he told them who he was and who he wanted to see,  and all the nurses were treating him like he was made out of glass.

He hated it. They didn't know anything.

The room his sister was staying in looked just like the hospital room in that almost everything was white and it smelled weird. But unlike the hospital it didn't smell weird because it was so clean, it smelled weird because they had sprayed some flower smelling stuff in the room.

Were all adults really so dumb? Did they think that her room smelling like flowers was going to do anything to make her feel better?

He sat next to her, holding her hand for hours, but she never looked at him, never turned her face and acknowledged he was even there. He tried everything he could think of to get her to respond and to let him know she was still with him. Nothing worked.

Finally, in one last effort to make her look at him, he licked his lips and slowly began telling her what he had done that night.

“Lina … please listen to me. That night … when it happened … it was a Friday night and we were supposed... I-I snuck down when everyone was asleep and … and … I lit a fire in the fireplace. I didn't … I didn't … please Lina w-we're... you're the o-only one I have left. Lina...”

He started shaking violently with the confession, and his words were forced out in hulking gurgles. Even so Lina heard him, and her eyes quivered, until she slowly turned her head and looked on him with confusion.

And then, understanding dawned in them, and the confusion was replaced with rage.

“YOU!” she screamed and flung herself at him, her nails held out like claws to tear at his face.

Erik fell backwards in fright and crawled away from his sister, clumsily stumbling out of bed and shrieking in maddened rage the entire time.

“YOUR FAULT!”

“Lina...” he choked out before his sister was upon him.

Her nails slashed at his skin and soon he felt blood pour into his eyes, stinging them. He shouted in pain and tried to crawl away from her, and soon a nurse burst into the room and tried to restrain her. But she wasn't strong enough, and Erik ran out of the room while Lina screamed with a sound that latched onto Erik's soul, damning him.

He ran down the hallway, and when he turned and looked around, he saw Lina pinned to the floor with two other doctors holding her there with the nurse. They had some sort of needle they injected her with, but Lina's eyes never left Erik. They screamed at him too, hating him, damning him.

“YOUR FAULT!”

Erik turned around and ran out, running as fast and hard as he could. But no matter how far he ran, it seemed he couldn't escape her screams, and when he finally collapsed on the sidewalk, he laid there and cried, for he knew that now he was truly alone.

People that walked past had tried to stop and comfort him, ask him what was wrong and if they could help. Adults were so stupid. Eventually, the police came and took him back to Leif's apartment, and his uncle soon returned home when he heard of what had happened.

The worst part was that he didn't scream. Normally all adults would shout and lecture children when they ran away or didn't obey orders, but Leif didn't. He just stood there with a grief stricken face and tried to tell Erik that it would all be okay in the end.

So Erik screamed at him, told him he was stupid and didn't understand anything, just like everybody else, and his uncle still refused to get mad. So Erik slammed the door and cried himself to sleep, wishing he had been stuck inside the house and burned or that he hadn't lit that fire at all. He was stupid, and childish and now everything was gone because of him.

Later that night, Erik woke up to shouting.

He had never heard Leif shout before, and when he listened carefully, he made out his sister's name. Maybe they had called from the hospital to say she had calmed down, and that she wanted to see her brother and tell him she didn't mean what she'd said? Maybe she would tell him she still loved him and she would never leave him?

Erik sneaked quickly out his room and went to the other phone his uncle had, and carefully picked it up. He held it hard to his ear and tried not to breath, otherwise they might hear that he was listening.

“- I don't care about your excuses! That was my niece! You told me you had sedated and put her into restraints!”

“I can't apologize enough for this. We have no idea how she got out of it.”

“You incompetent idiot! How the hell do you think this will affect the boy!?”

“We did everything we could, but by the time we went to checkup on her, it was too late.”

“How did it happen?”

“She managed to get one hand out of her restraint and … used the pin holding it in place to cut her wrist open … I'm sorry.”

Erik dropped the phone and fell down to the floor next to it, his whole body trembled and it felt like he couldn't breath. Lina was dead. Now everyone was dead, everyone important. Why?

“YOUR FAULT!”

He heard the voice scream inside his head. He remembered her eyes. She hated him. He had burned down their home. He had burned their parents alive, and now he had killed his sister, made her hate him so much that she killed herself.

He had just wanted to watch the fire dance, to sit with his family and watch it dance, and listen to his father and know everything was safe and warm and that they loved him and that he loved them.

“YOUR FAULT!”

His fault.

“YOUR FAULT!”

His fault.

“YOUR FAULT.”

It was all his fault.

He screamed.

                                             ***********************************

Erik was screaming, weeping and trashing with all his might. It felt like his soul was being torn apart, ripped into tiny pieces from the guilt and the hate and knowing that he was responsible. It had always been his fault.

Twilight was cradling him, holding him tight just as much to comfort him as to comfort herself. She felt sick to the absolute core of her being from what she'd seen. He clung to her with desperation, like she was the only thing keeping him from being ripped apart.

They sat in the middle of his inner library, but it was different. Gone was the golden light from the chandelier above, instead it was now a cold milky white that stole the warmth from the room. The books were gone, either torn to shreds or standing as hollow covers without anything in between. It was nothing like the warm and comfy library Twilight had spent so much time in when they'd first meet. It reminded her of the ruins where the elements had defeated Nightmare Moon. Old, forgotten and dead.

Erik was wailing, and from the dark shadows around the bookcases, specters surged forward. Twilight didn't know what they were, and she felt completely powerless before them. They circled around the pair, and Erik didn't even notice them before one rushed forward and went into him.

Both Erik and Twilight were forcefully thrown into his memories again. His desperation, his pain. He hated everything and shut himself away from the world. Leif gave up hope on him after months of trying of help him. He simply left him at his apartment with the TV on, which Erik had stared empty eyed into.

Until one afternoon the same ghost hunting program had been on, and the first flicker of life appeared in the boy. And an idea was born.

He contacted every person that claimed they could speak with the dead, and Erik changed. He became obsessed, desperate to see his dead parents and sister. To hear them speak, to know they still existed. He needed to hear them say they could forgive him, that they understood it was a mistake and that he loved them.

Leif didn't approve, so Erik stole money from him whenever he could. He sneaked away at every opportunity and saw those that said they could help the boy. But they all lied. They said things that his family wouldn't say, or other mistakes that made Erik understand they were just tricking him. Eventually Leif had given in to his obsession, and they used much of the money Erik had gained to pay medium after medium. Charlatans, liars and thieves were all they got in return.

After more than a year had passed, Erik had grown clever. He knew what to say to make Leif feel bad and go with him. He knew how to spot the fakes just after meeting them. He could even sense when they were lying, like a feeling.

Then one day, when he was out walking alone in the rain, he had come across a small labyrinth made of cobblestones in a large box of sand. Without thinking about it, he had walked through it without ever once having to stop or go back, and when he had exited out the other side, he had met Varsif for the first time, and the old wizard had made him an offer.

Twilight shrieked as the memories assaulted her, overwhelming her with years and years of torment and misery in just a few seconds.

Erik had tried so hard, constantly driven by his need to learn how to contact his family and the magic that would make that possible. But he wasn't allowed. He was denied the chance to call them to him. Varsif refused him, and every time he tried on his own, something on the other side blocked him.

The wizard said it wasn't time, that it wouldn't solve anything and only make it worse.

Erik hated him, but he discovered that he loved magic. He loved how life and the power of creation itself flowed through him, made him forget and feel alive even if it was just for a few precious heartbeats. He threw himself into the study, but no matter what he did, he wasn't allowed what he really needed.

One day, after eleven years of hard study, it was too much. Erik left, abandoned his training and went on his own. He tried to find his own ways to find his family. He contacted many beings, but none offered him the chance.

Until one day, he had decided to go to the void. There he would be able to call to beings without being watched and without being stopped. He would find a way to call to his family no matter what. So he traveled to the void that day, to find a solution, to find a being that would give him the only thing he wanted.

Instead he had found a dark god of lies and trickery, and a trapped unicorn awaiting her end.

She had been stuck in an endless emptiness, slowly losing everything she was. Her very existence was being eaten, and yet when Erik had looked into her eyes, he saw that she dared to hope.

Those eyes...

She had faced annihilation and she dared to look at him with hope. Believing he could save her, save someone. What he had seen in her eyes had made him do something he had never even considered possible. He had done something good.

And if even she, while facing the most terrible ending possible for any creature in existence, could hope, then maybe he wasn't beyond saving either....

He understood now. He knew what had led him to strive forward, to seek new ways and fight the despair that always burned within him. He had tried, and it was because of something he had seen within her eyes.

His chains had been forged through desperation and despair. He had locked the memories away. He didn't even know what exactly had happened. He had only known that his family was dead and it was his fault, and he knew that it been through fire. Now he remembered everything, and it was because of Twilight, because he couldn't stand seeing her leave him without knowing, and without seeing why he couldn't let Discord threaten her with that fate.

He couldn't stand seeing that hope die in her eyes.

And so, between his hysterical sobbing, he managed to move his head back and look into her eyes. Those eyes, those beautiful purple eyes that contained so much knowledge, curiosity, fear, love and...

There was hope when she looked at him now.

He screamed and clung to her and he felt the memories rip into him with all their suffering. Erik died that moment, consumed by a guilt that had festered and grown for more than a decade, and where he had died, Karon was born.

He cried, and wailed, and everything screamed inside and around him. What had been locked behind chains forged from torment was freed, and he had to suffer all of it.

And far above the pair, at the heart of the dead and cold chandelier, a small uncertain light flickered to life.

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