Friendship is Forever: Redux
Chapter 1: The Garden
Twilight glanced about as she cantered down the vast hallway, past sweeping panoramas of stained glass and under chandeliers whose crystals tinkled gently as air currents brushed past. The day was young and beautiful, the sunlight a warm embrace that clung gently to her side at each window she passed.
No one had told she was allowed to be here, but then again, no one had told her she wasn't. The echo of her hoofsteps sounded furtive and hesitant; the castle walls seemed to bear down on her with their disdainful gaze.
She passed a huge archway into the gardens. Immediately, she was assailed by a panorama of colors, smells and shapes that demanded her attention. Birdsong and the swarming hum of dense life reverberated through her. She found her senses overwhelmed by constant signals: the intense, sweet smell of blooming flowers; the chatter of chipmunks; some unidentifiable tang in the air; and the rustling sound of gently swaying braches—all of which loosely translated to I am alive. She sneezed.
She slipped through the earthy underbelly of a hedge and found herself the shade of a stout, curvy tree. It was planted neatly in the center of a large, dirt circle, half-surrounded by a curved section of the hedge. Some instinct, some warm sensation spreading upwards and outwards from her hooves told her she wouldn't be found here.
She lay down on the soft, fine soil, watching periodic hints of sunlight filter down through the leaves above like knowing winks. From the branches dangled bright red fruits she had never seen before, all bobbing in the wind so hypnotically that she was surprised when she found herself standing upright, craning her neck upwards.
I shouldn't eat those, said a nagging voice in the back of her mind as she hopped up, placing her hooves against the tree's wide truck. I don't have permission, she thought as she leaned hard against the tree, straining her forelegs in an effort to shake the fruit down. It probably belongs to someone, she realized as she narrowed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and drew deep from the well of magic inside of her. I'll get in trouble, she reminded herself as a fruit separated from a branch with a satisfying snap, drifting gently downwards into her open mouth. I should have asked first, she lamented as she took the biggest bite she could manage, savoring the impossibly sweet juices as they burst through the fruit's broken skin. It was the best thing she had ever tasted.
The world disappeared as she closed her eyes and took another bite, then another. Before she could fully process what was happening, the fruit became a ravaged, forlorn core resting in the dirt at her hooves.
She shivered. A high wind whistled somewhere far away, and a cold sound rang through the air—a high ringing distinctly not of the garden, but of some distant, austere consciousness chiding her for what she'd just done. She slunk away from the tree, stepping carefully around a bed of blue roses and onto the grassy path. A cloud passed overhead and she shivered as the sun's warmth suddenly faded.
A strange anxiety took her as she left the flowers and trees behind, taking a hedge-walled path around the corner. Up ahead, there was a weathered marble fountain with an octagonal base, surrounded by patches of meticulously manicured shrubbery.
Twilight's ears perked up as she spotted something white sitting in the grass, up against the fountain. She trotted closer, gradually resolving the nebulous shape into a rabbit. She slowed down, hoping not to startle it. It held oddly still, and she quickly realized something was wrong.
She came to a stop looking down on the rabbit, which was lying on its side with its eyes open and its legs held stiff. She stomped on the ground, thinking to wake it up, but it remained motionless. The wind reached a chilling, mournful pitch. She felt her heart beat faster but didn't understand why.
She nudged the rabbit gently with her magic, but only managed to make it flop over. She leaned down to examine it closer, but its soft white fur yielded no answers.
"Twilight! There you are!" She jumped, scrambling away from the rabbit and bumping into the fountain. As she spun around, she saw an alicorn with a brilliant white coat approach from one of the hedge paths.
"Princess!" she gasped. "I didn't mean to…" She trailed off, her heart and mind racing. How much did Celestia know? Had she seen her eat the fruit? What was going to happen now?
"I'm sorry," said Celestia, "I didn't mean to startle you. It just occurred to me that while you're living in Canterlot, you might need some help finding your way around the castle…"
Celestia grew quiet as her eyes fell on the rabbit. Twilight thought she heard a soft sigh.
"There's something wrong with the rabbit," she said. "It won't move."
Celestia bit her lip. Twilight's stomach sank as she wondered whether she'd be blamed for the rabbit's state.
"It looks like it's passed on."
"On to where?" She wondered why the princess sounded so sad.
"I mean it's dead."
Twilight cocked her head to the side. "What does that mean?"
Celestia looked down at her for a long time. Twilight looked at the ground, shuffling uncomfortably. "It's done living," the princess finally said. "It can't move anymore."
Twilight frowned. "It must be really scared. I was stomping the ground to wake it up and all it could do was listen to me. It couldn't run away."
Celestia shook her head. "It can't hear anything, either. It can't see anything, feel anything, or do anything at all."
Twilight blinked. None of this made any sense. She tried to picture everything going dark and quiet, but it was more than that. She imagined falling asleep, but it was more than that too. How could anyone experience nothing?
"How long will he stay like that?" she asked.
Once again, Celestia took a long time to answer. "Forever. There's nothing anypony can do."
Twilight peered into the creature's glassy, dark eye. Is this my fault? "Why would something like that happen?"
"Maybe it just got too old."
"What do you mean, princess?"
"When things get too old, they die. It's a different length of time for each living thing, but everything dies eventually."
Twilight's coast bristled as a sinking suspicion crept through her veins like some insidious poison. "What about ponies?"
"Even ponies."
The wind slowed to silence, and the cold ringing sound echoed through the garden once more, prompting Celestia to scan the skies for its source. Twilight felt something rise up inside her, something ancient, terrible and instinctive passed on by all who had lived before her. This was a new emotion, distinct from ordinary sadness or fear. She felt deeply sick inside, instilled with a weight that would surely bear down on her until her own death.
Up above, the clouds passed and the sun shone down once again, but Twilight could barely feel its warmth.
"It's not something you should worry about right now," Celestia assured her. "You're young, and you still have many, many years to live."
"But I'll die eventually?"
"It won't be for a long time. Longer than you can imagine."
Was living longer than she could imagine the same as living forever? Twilight wasn't sure.
"What about you?"
Celestia looked away, up towards the sky. "Well… I won't die. At least, I don't think I will. For thousands of years I haven't gotten any older than I am now."
Why would Celestia live forever while she had to die? As Twilight took a deep, shuddering breath, she noticed that the garden no longer smelled like anything.
"Come along," said Celestia, turning away from the rabbit. "There are plenty of other new things for you to see today, and no reason you should dwell on this."
Twilight glanced over her shoulder as the Princess led her back into the stone hallways. The rabbit seemed to stare at her forlornly, imploring her to stay and make it better. Was it just going to lie there forever, or would someone move it? When she died, would everyone just walk away from her body and forget about her? What could she do to become like Celestia and live forever?
The air inside the castle felt cold and stale. As Celestia expounded upon the fantastic branches of magic she'd be learning about in Canterlot, Twilight tried to ignore the persistent knot in her stomach.