The moon lurked just outside a large ballroom window in the palace's northern wing. Various upper-class ponies mingled and gossiped while a soft symphony set the mood. Among the musicians was a particularly bored young mare: a cellist with no desire to be there. She stood atop the stage as her bow gently glided across the strings of her instrument. A somber sigh fell across her lips as her gaze slowly drifted out over the sea ponies beneath her. Their dull, pretentious eyes rolling as they pretended to cast aside their own insufferable arrogance and sense of self-importance to make small talk sent chills up the young mare's spine.

Octavia glanced down at her own hoof to see her ankle tightly gripping her bow as it glided back and forth, almost involuntarily, while her forearm carefully balanced the instrument against herself.

Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life? Am I doomed to a meager, background existence? A life of mediocrity? she wondered, her heartbeat quickening beneath her sudden anxiety.

These thoughts haunted her, wiping her smile away before it even had a chance to fully form. She closed her eyes and dwelled on the thought of becoming trapped in a repetitive, mundane existence.

Suddenly, a high-pitched shriek pierced the entire room as the devious mare slid her hoof up the steel-cored A string. The conductor glared directly at Octavia, who simply put on a questioning frown and shrugged.

WHAP

On a whim, she slapped her bow against all four stings of her cello, causing a loud pop to echo through the ballroom. The other musicians gulped and clumsily found their places to resume the song.

"Octavia Bellemare Oatsenburg! Whatever do you think you're doing?!" the conductor whispered forcefully into the ensemble, glaring at her.

"Oopsie, was that me?" Octavia grinned and cleared her throat, scheming what other ways she could entice such endearing reactions.

Knowing that she would be 'politely recommended' to leave the stage, the defiant mare concluded that she should not give them the chance to take control of the situation. She contemplated simply walking off, but there was no fun to be had in that; she now had a point to make, and she knew exactly how to do so.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, gripping her bow sternly. She placed her other hoof tightly over three strings, pressing one with the tip, another with the base of her ankle, and leaving the center muted. With a forceful exhale, she began walking her hoof rapidly up the neck of the cello, creating an almost horror-inducing sound as the bass instrument painfully ached into a high-pitched tone.

Each and every mare and gentlecolt in the room fell silent, their eyes wandering to the source of the racket. Octavia slowly walked her hoof back down the length of the instrument, her bow gliding across the strings with acute precision. She began to wonder what she was doing, as she produced a song from her subconscious, playing exactly what came to mind.

She kept her eyes closed and sank into the moment as she expertly flung notes into the unusual song, a completely improvised and original piece. She twirled around and dragged her instrument with her as she played, smiling widely and lost in euphoria's charm. Faint sounds of her conductor demanding her to stop made it through her trance, and she smiled wider at the detestation.

As her song came to an end, she spread her forelegs and let her cello to fall to the floor. It hit with an eerie explosion of discordant sounds as each string fell out of tune. Extending her reach as if in the center of a spotlight, she felt as if she had just performed her best symphony yet. Striking another pose, she lost grip of her bow, and it flew straight into the stunned crowd of ponies. Just before it could crash into the face of an awestruck older stallion, he caught it in an aura of magic, his brow raised and a hoof on his chin.

"Thank you! Thank you all! No need for applause!" Octavia exaggeratedly bowed and blew kisses to the stunned crowd.

She leaped from the stage and loosened her bowtie, tossing it over to another older stallion who stared at her as if she were the spawn of Nightmare Moon.

"Yep, it's that kind of party." With a feeling of triumph, she exited the ballroom, grinning wolfishly.

Later that week – after several more outbursts – Octavia sat quietly in the dark, her tightly pressed against her bedroom door, listening carefully to her parents discussing her recent behavior.

"I just don't know what we're going to do with her." Beyond the door, a large gray stallion paced the room with a pipe in his mouth.

"Maybe... well, maybe we should let her find her own way? She is a grown mare after all," his wife said as she sipped from a levitating wine glass.

"She's hardly grown! She wouldn't last a day out there on her own, and you know it!" The stallion stamped the hardwood floor in front of the fireplace.

"Well, in a few short days it won't be up to us, now will it?" With a quick flick of her tail, the tall pink unicorn raised her eyebrows and closed her eyes as she finished her drink.

"Won't be up to us? She's my daughter no matter her age, and she'll do as I say!"

Angrily, Octavia burst from her room. She narrowed her eyes and stared her father down. Her mother scoffed as if she had predicted this kind of rash behavior.

"You think you can just order me around after my birthday? Ha! I've already started packing," Octavia shouted with a slick grin.

"And where will you go, child? Will you live on the streets like common alley-mules? Oh no, of course not! You're better than that, right? You'll likely bounce back and forth between your friends' homes, until they all get tired of your attitude. Then you'll beg us to let you come back here." The large stallion raised an eyebrow and glared down at his daughter.

Octavia swallowed her urge to snap back with a barrage of direct and unrelated insults, instead taking a deep breath and standing her ground. "Well Dad, for your information, I've already applied for a job, and they said I can start the day after my birthday. I'll be working my way through school—the school of my choice. I don't need you or anypony else to tell me what I can or can't do, and I'll be damned to the moon if I spend the rest of my life doing something I hate. I can do this on my own. I'd leave right now if I could."

"If that's truly what you wish, then go. I won't stop you, but don't expect to be welcomed home until you've learned some respect." The stallion walked over to his chair and sat, facing away from his daughter.

The young mare took a deep breath and headed back into her room, her confidence fading as she tried to decide what she should do first. She hastily threw a few things into a saddlebag and flung it over her back, then grabbed the handle of her cello case with her teeth and moved back into the front room, dragging it behind her. She stood on her back legs and placed her hoof on the top of the case to stabilize it.

"Won't be needing this old thing anymore." She gave the case containing her custom-made instrument a gentle nudge, and smiled as it crashed down to the floor.

"Thank you, Octavia. Now, please, try to leave without making any more of a scene."

The defiant mare lowered her eyes and trotted out the door, slamming it behind herself. Her mother then gave her husband a worried glance.

"Don't worry. She'll be back..." he said with a weak, raspy voice.

Octavia trotted down the brightly-lit night streets of Canterlot. A short list of friends in which she may be able to stay the night entered her mind, but she quickly shook them off. With a huff, she slid against a brick wall and opened her saddlebag, counting all the bits she had gathered. Holding a large gold piece on the tip of her hoof, the gleaming light of a billboard caught her eye. It was advertising the low rates of a near by hotel. With a spark of enthusiasm, she lifted herself to her hooves and headed down the road in its direction.

A chilly breeze pierced her coat as she trotted down the lonely city streets of the night. On her way down the street, she realized she was near the place of her future employment. A thought entered her mind, and she took a short detour on her way to the hotel.

She paused outside the tall building and looked up at the sign, a glimmer of doubt piercing her strong will. "Is this really for me?" she muttered, her eyes darting across the building's vivid luminescence.

"What a stupid name..."

eClipse

She shook her head and let it go as she pressed through the front doors, her chest out and her head high. Proving she wasn't just some hard-nosed filly, she headed down the hall and encountered a large stallion standing in front of another set of double doors. With the utmost sense of confidence, she tapped his chest and looked him in the eye.

"May I speak to whomever is in charge, please?"

"Sure thing, miss. Come with me." He turned and led her through a side door behind a curtain.

He pointed to another door with a dim light shining through its office window before returning to his post. As Octavia trotted through the hallway, she could hear a deep, thumping bass permeating the walls. Curiosity washed over her as she listened, trying to make sense of the muffled rumbling. Unable to recognize the genre, she wrote it off and tapped on the office door, which was already cracked open.

"What's up, kid?" a light blue mare said, skimming through a folder of files.

The nervous pony paused for a moment to clear her mind, and she took a deep breath before lifting her chin and standing straight up. "I was recently hired here, and I'm scheduled to begin working next week; however, I was hoping to start sooner, if that's possible."

The blue mare looked up at the nervous earth pony. "How old are you?"

Octavia gulped, her strong stance falling as she quietly mumbled. "My birthday is in less than a week, then I'll be of age. I just... I really need this job as soon as possible."

The office mare let out a deep sigh. "You're killing me, kid. What's your name?"

"My name is Octavia Oatsenburg, ma'am."

"Oatsenburg, Oatsenburg... Let's see here..." The mare pulled her application out from one of many poorly labeled files. "Birthday in six days? Yeah, yeah, that's fine. Just stay away from the drinks and the drunkards and you'll do fine until then. Come on in tomorrow night and I'll start your training, so you'll be ready once your birthday comes. Saves us both some time, right?" The mare then shooed her off with a hoof while returning to her paper work.

Octavia cheerfully smiled and nodded her head before trotting back outside. As she reached the exit of the building, the thumping bass once again echoed in her ears. It was so foreign compared to the genres she had studied. She lightly bobbed her head on the way out, immediately taking a liking to this new style and rhythm. Exiting the building, she glanced back at the doors, sighing forlornly as the shutting of the doors silenced the music.

As she walked, she looked to the dark sky; although it was a clear night, there were very few stars visible. The many city lights made it impossible to see most stars, apart from the brightest ones. She began to wonder what it would be like to see the many rural fields of Equestria beyond the Capital City of Canterlot.

"Maybe someday..." she whispered as she strolled through the city.

It didn't take long before she arrived at the previously advertised hotel: the Stabling Inn. She walked in and dug through her saddle bag for the bits to cover the fee. After signing her name on a check-in sheet, she received the room key from the friendly receptionist.

"Enjoy your stay, and let me know if you need anything." The friendly receptionist smiled as she spoke.

"Will do. Thanks." Octavia politely nodded, her exhaustion masking her kindness.

The fatigued mare collapsed onto the bed, exhausted as the clock approached midnight. She leaned up looking around the room, and was hit with a pang of loss when she realized her cello wasn't propped up against the corner in its case. Like a foal's blanket or a cherished stuffed animal, the cello had brought her comfort ever since she was a young filly. This would be the first night she could remember without it.

The pains of being on her own began to set in as she fell backwards and gazed up at the blank white ceiling. She closed her eyes and forced herself to look on the bright side: she was free, she was finally free to choose her own path, her life was now her own, and that was more than she could have asked for.

A thought crept into her mind as she lay awake: would her willpower and freedom be enough to survive? She shuddered, shaking the unpleasant doubts from her mind. She was determined to succeed; she wouldn't let her fears get to her now.

Octavia eased herself into a slumber, clinging to her hopes of what she could shape her future into.