I want to set some things straight. I chose this: I chose to live in a house deep in a forest on the edge of town, I chose to burn all my letters, I chose to grow all of my own food, I chose to forgo relations and sever all ties, I chose to be hidden, I chose to be alone, I chose to be safe, I chose to live, I chose to breathe, I chose to know exactly what was going on. Although I suppose it's not a choice now. It's been decided and I can't go back on it. It's too late for that. The ponies out there, the ones I used to know? Do you think they would accept me, if I went back to them? Surrender once again to arbitrary rules and indirect control? Of course not... to the few that still remember me, I have become reclusive and obnoxious; evil, perhaps, to the younger ones. Let them think! I don't care what they think about me - they don't matter at all. I do not follow who I am told to, I follow myself. I do not, on the whole, regret my choices, for I made them with the greatest and upmost careful consideration. I feel sad, some days, yes, unbearably so, when I see pictures of my friends, but it mostly does not bother me. I shouldn't keep those photographs, I know, but I can not remove them. The cracked glass... the smiling faces... my own face, much younger than it is now, among them all... call it my weakness. It is my only one - I do not allow myself to have more than one. Because when I permit two soon I permit five and ten, until the dam breaks and they take me away. Yes, that's what they'd do, I'm sure of it. They want to hide me away, somewhere far away, desperately so, so I'll be less of a danger to them. They watch me: like hawks, trying to find any reason they can to remove from their society. They have the power to do so, I know it. You want proof? I have proof: I have photographs, I have confessions, I have documents - I am certain in my beliefs. And I believe that we only know what they choose to reveal to us - and they reveal lies.

But enough of that. Here is what happened, and brought me to this dark place where I write by a flickering candle. It started with a letter. I woke one morning, a morning like most others, and found it on the grass outside my door. There was nothing on the envelope to indicate who sent it and to whom they sent it. I burnt the letter, as I do them all. To open an envelope is to willingly entangle yourself in a web. Better to burn them and avoid it all. A week passed and I did not think of the letter. I thought it was perhaps one of the ponies who had used to know me trying to rekindle contact - ha! ha! - and let it leave my mind as I do all things of unimportance. But then, one morning when the bluebells had just started to grow, the mailmare was outside my house. I looked at her from my bedroom window after I woke, seeing her dawdle at my door, obviously waiting for me. It angered me to see her there - not because of any feelings against her; who could hold spite with an idiot mare like her? - but because someone had evidently taken to trying to contact me. And they had used the mailmare as a tool to that means. Given her an apple, perhaps. Again, I thought this was an attempt by one of them to reconcile our relationships and drag me back to them. I didn't answer the door for a good five hours, busying myself inside the hours; dragging out menial chores so as to extend the time taken, stealing glances out of windows to see if the mailmare was still there, and when it was evident that she would be until she was satisfied, I opened the door the smallest crack. I said nothing and waited for her to speak.

"Letter."

"From who?"

"Letter." She wasn't looking at me as she said it.

She got an envelope out of her bag and held it to me. I reached out and took it slowly.

"Go."

She looked hurt but heeded. I closed and bolted the door and watched out the window for another hour before looking at the letter. It was in the same style as the last one; for this reason I burnt it as I had done its predecessor. I never broke my rules.

Then I saw them. When I was out tending the garden, I was looking into the forest near my house - and there they were, two ponies, a pegasi and a unicorn, hidden in a bush some distance away. I felt fear. They had found me again... they were coming for me, to hide me away. I had no choice: they had to be silenced before they could report back to their superiors. I picked up a small basket besides me and entered the forest. The two ponies did not know that I had seen them, and as such I approached them under the guise of collecting various plants - for potions or food, they must have assumed. At one point I got close enough to hear a whisper: "Do you think... we should move?" and a reply: "No. She's too close, she'll see. Just hope she doesn't walk into us." A sardonic smile crept over my face. I had gotten close enough. I carefully set down my basket: my hooves would have to be free. I prepared my magic, the electric hum flowing over my horn, bracing me. As the magic's noise reached a level that the spies could hear, I snapped around and fired: two large blasts of a blue fire that could be extinguished by no water. It hit one head on, he fell to the ground. The other one, the pegasi, was only clipped in his left wing: in a panic he ascended. I fired again and again, hoping to bring him down, but the tall trees shielded his position from me. He escaped and it angered me bitterly. I would have to relocate to one of my back-up caves again. I heard a whimper from the ground and realised I had forgotten about the unicorn; he was rolling on the grass, crying, trying, in vain, to put out my spell. It was too strong for him, though; I had evidently practiced for much longer than he. With my magic, I rose him up, until he floated above the ground. I extinguished my previous spell, so he could talk. I gave him a few seconds to compose himself and then asked my first question.

"Who do you work for?"

He could still barely speak. The words came out in a panicked and irregular rhythm.

"Please! Don't - don't kill me please I'm sorry -"

"Tell me who you work for!"

"I - I... I can't -"

I used the spell that was levitating him to compress on his lungs, cracking some of his ribs.

"Tell me now, or I swear I will let the birds eat your body!"

"The princess!" he yelped, pitifully, broken.

"Why?"

"I don't know, I don't know we weren't told, I swear I don't know anything else, please!"

I nodded. Then I snapped his neck - quickly and painlessly - and buried his body deep in the woods, where nopony ever went.

I started packing.

The bag on my back was heavy and so were the thoughts in my head. The princess had sent spies? She must have finally decided to end the game that she'd played for as long as I could remember. And now I had gone and injured one of her men - that meant she would really be gunning for me, and I would have to go to a much more desolate safe-house than I had first thought. It confused me, though: why now? Had something drastic occurred that I was not aware of, that caused Celestia to try and bring me in? Perhaps she had just gotten tired of me and decided to end the show. Good luck, I thought. I'm better than you think. I may have played tricks in my shows, but I have poured over many a dusty spell tome. The journey was long, and cold; more so for both because I only moved at night, when I was concealed in the darkness, hiding myself in make-shift shelters during the day. It was a hungry trip, too. I didn't have the time to pack food - my bag contained only my most important spell-books and a bed-cover - and there were few animals in the meadows I wandered over. My location was a small cave, near the coast. It would take five day's travel to reach. They found me on the third.

The first thing I knew of it was the noise: a dull humming buzz from far-off. As it came closer I recognised it as a group of pegasi flying at high speeds. There was a large pool nearby - I casted a simple water-breathing spell and jumped in. It was not long before they came, and they came en masse. There must have been an entire unit after me - rows and rows of pegasi, scouring the land for any trace of me. In spite of myself I had to smile. Celestia certainly wasn't taking me to be an average dissident. I kept as still as I could - they would be able to spot ripples in the water from up there, and would probably investigate. I held my breath, even though the water-spell protected me, and remained still. Then, as they drew closer, I noticed something: fool I am, I had left my travelling bag outside the water! It was too late to dart out and pull it in – they had already noticed. I could see, through the ripples of the water, three pegasi descending towards me... perhaps I could stun them and make a run for it. I braced myself. The first of the three landed at the side of the lake and leaned over to look in. He could see me staring directly back at him. His face was of confusion, for a moment, then alarm, and then he started to shout "she's here! -" before I shot him. He went keeling over, the flesh flying off his bones and smouldering in the air. I leaped out, firing at the second pegasi, who had just landed, and ran for my life.

I never had a chance, of course. They were quicker, better trained and better motivated. Escape was impossible, they had me in seconds. Wild, frantic seconds full of colour and fire and devoid of thought. I took as many as I could, and held them off, too; but it drained me terribly, and I did not notice the one behind me. All went black.

And when I came to I was here. A dark room, with but one half-used candle, a single sheet of parchment on which I write these words and a stubbed pencil. Cobble-brick walls hold me here, with no door anywhere that I can try to force or a window to climb out of. There is no bed here. Thankfully I have not yet felt the need of sleep, being awake here for only a few hours. I can only assume I am in the deepest of Celestia's dungeons, miles underneath the ground of Canterlot - or not that even, perhaps I have been moved far away from Equestria, to the great penal lands in the centre of the Salted Sea... or even, I dare and dread to think of, some location removed far from even the planet I call home... I can write no more. These will most likely by my last words, unless fortune, for the first time in many years, rolls its dice in my favour. As such, if by this incredible fortune a pony sympathetic to me reads these here words, these lonely words, these dark lonely words, do me this: tell my friends I have died, even if this is not the case. Give them the peace of mind to know I am gone, even if my suffering shall last for many years. Do this for me. -

The miracle has occurred. I have met with my capturer and had several revelations. I will never live as I have done before. Later today I shall leave, and return home, to see and hug and cry with my old friends.