Long Years


                                            >(You) finally made it!

                                            >The Equestria looks more rustic than you expected, but you won't let that stop (You).

                                            >Not after all the waiting you've already gone through.

                                            >The soul of the land is unmistakable, and that's what matters most.

                                            >Luckily enough, there's a small town nearby.

                                            >It doesn't look much like Ponyville, but it'll have to do.

                                            >You put on your most charming smile, bracing yourself to be treated like a scary threat or, at best, as a weird alien.

                                            >You couldn't have been more wrong.

                                            >The ponies are even more friendly and welcoming than you expected.

                                            >They help you get accustomed to the new world you've found yourself in.

                                            >In return, you help them all with precise tasks where your manual dexterity is invaluable.

                                            >It's not like your CS degree will get you anywhere.

                                            >A couple months pass by like this, and things are looking better by the week.

                                            >You would have never guessed it in your previous life, but you've found that you have quite a talent for woodworking and carpentry.

                                            >Soon enough, you open a small workshop on the outskirts of the rapidly growing town.

                                            >You've learned that nopony has heard of Ponyville in this part of Equestria.

                                            >But really, it doesn't bother you anymore.

                                            >It's already been a year, and in this short period of time you've become a full-fledged member of the local community.

                                            >Not to mention, the beautiful earth pony mare living next door has been visiting your workshop almost every day.

                                            >When asked about it by other ponies, she answers that her painting talent presents a good career opportunity for both of you.

                                            >Maybe some even would've believed her if she didn't visibly blush every time she said so.

                                            >Not a small feat, considering her lush, bordeaux coat.

                                            >Her shy smile is even more lovely when she's blushing.

                                            >As for you, you don't want to rush things.

                                            >Your new home is here, and time passes faster when you're among friends.

                                            >Yes, you have the time.

                                            ...

                                            >Something isn't right.

                                            >The ponies you've met as fillies and colts are already independent and starting their own families.

                                            >Has it really been so long?

                                            >You could swear no more than a couple years have passed.

                                            >The realization hits you like a truck.

                                            >It's been only a couple years...

                                            >For (You), a human, for whom Equestria only slowed down the process of aging.

                                            >But the same couldn't be said about your friends.

                                            >They look and act two decades older than when you met them.

                                            >When Gentle Brush, your former neighbor, left the town, you were shocked and heartbroken.

                                            >You curse yourself for not figuring it out sooner.

                                            >She was getting older, and she must've felt that you didn't reciprocate her feelings.

                                            >You curse yourself again.

                                            >But you can't let yourself fall into despair.

                                            >If you've been given an unusually long life, the least you can hope to do is strive to make your home, Equestria, a better place.

                                            >Perhaps it's even better that things went this way.

                                            >There's no way you could handle seeing several generations of your family pass away.

                                            >You have to keep yourself from getting too attached to anypony.

                                            >You leave your workshop to your most skilled apprentice, a young colt -- no, a stallion -- with a hoof plane cutie mark.

                                            >He's almost as good as you are; you can trust him with what little renown your little establishment has garnered.

                                            >From now on, you'll travel from town to town, helping ponies in whatever small way you can.

                                            >Yes, that's what you're meant to do.

                                            >It must be your destiny.

                                            >You are Anonymous.

                                            >It'll hurt less this way.

                                            ...

                                            >Before you enter the next town, a mare waves to you with a smile.

                                            >You wave back.

                                            >Have you been in this village recently?

                                            >As months turned into years and years into decades, you found it increasingly hard to remember places and faces.

                                            "It's easier this way," you mumble under your breath, as if trying to convince someone who's not here.

                                            >You raise your head again, taking a second look at the mare in front of you.

                                            >You gasp, and your heart skips a few beats.

                                            "G... Gentle Brush?"

                                            >The mare raises her brow in surprise.

                                            >This is not the first time it has happened.

                                            >You've been mistaken, of course.

                                            >You always are.

                                            >For your body, barely half a decade has passed in the thirty years since your arrival.

                                            >For everypony else, an entire generation has gone by.

                                            >The pony observing you with a worried look is nothing like your old neighbor.

                                            >First of all, she's a pegasus with a bright coat.

                                            >You feel as if you've seen her before, but you can't tell where.

                                            >She introduces herself, but you deliberately don't pay attention to her name.

                                            >It's one of the habits you've picked up during your travels.

                                            >She stops you before you enter the village, then asks for a minute of your time.

                                            >You can do that; time is a commodity you have in excess.

                                            >"I won't take long, I promise," she says with a sad smile. "Are you Anonymous?"

                                            >You nod, still struggling to place her.

                                            >"I was asked to deliver something to you." She looks away. "A gift."

                                            "From whom? I don't know anypony."

                                            >Your voice is firm -- too firm -- trying to sound more confident than you really are.

                                            >"From the pony you thought I was, Gentle Brush."

                                            >You try to give her a cold look for unearthing a past that should stay buried, but find yourself unable to keep your composure.

                                            >Seeing your pained expression, the mare gives you a small package.

                                            >You crouch and tear through the packaging, revealing a small canvas.

                                            >It depicts a brightly lit workshop, full of shining tools and finely crafted furniture.

                                            >In the center of the painting, however, are two wooden stools, one right next to the other.

                                            >Each of them casts a shadow on the floor as if somepony were sitting there.

                                            >The shadows clash with the positive atmosphere of the piece, like a dark red stain on a white dress.

                                            >You sit on the grass, unable to do anything.

                                            >The pegasus sits down next to you and wraps her wing around your trembling silhouette.

                                            "Is she... well?"

                                            >The mare moves even closer and locks eyes with you. You're overcome with comforting warmth and understanding. "She's lived a long and happy life, surrounded by friends who cared for her until the end."

                                            "Then why did she... no, how could I have been so blind!"

                                            >She hesitates for a moment. "I'm very sorry, but I think you deserve to know that she never forgot you. Every couple days, she'd spend an evening sitting on a balcony, looking at the eastern path, waiting. She said she was just collecting her thoughts." She bites her lip. "I wish I had pressed her about those evenings."

                                            >You slowly stand up and put the small painting into your traveling bag, carefully wrapping it in layers of clean clothes.

                                            "Could you tell me where is her resting place? It won't make things right, but I need to apologize."

                                            >"I could do more than that," she says. "I was planning on heading there myself; the chariot has enough room for the two of us."

                                            ...

                                            >You leave the cemetery, unsurprised to find the white mare standing by the entrance.

                                            "Why did you wait for me? It must've taken longer than any pony would find reasonable."

                                            >"I don't mind, Anonymous, and I didn't waste any time, either. I went for a walk. I remember... many of the names on these stones."

                                            >You furrow your brow and once again try to remember where you've seen this mare previously.

                                            >An absurd thought crosses your mind -- you've seen her, yes, but in your previous life, the one you've almost completely forgotten by now.

                                            "Who are you?"

                                            >"An acquaintance of hers. I cannot say "a friend", for a friend would've seen through her worries."

                                            >Suddenly, you remember the surprised gazes of the guards you've passed along the way.

                                            "You're Princess Celestia."

                                            >"Indeed." She raises an eyebrow. "But I believe I introduced myself when we first met."

                                            "I wasn't paying attention. Not to disrespect you, Princess, but--"

                                            >"To prevent anypony from getting too familiar." She sighs heavily. "I understand you all too well. Why do you think I wear a disguise?"

                                            "About Gentle Brush, does it ever get any easier?"

                                            >Instead of replying, Celestia -- having returned to her alicorn form -- looks you in the eyes again.

                                            >This time, however, she takes off the mask shielding Equestria from her true feelings.

                                            >It only lasts a fraction of a second, but you experience sadness and loneliness so severe that you almost fall over.

                                            >"I've been personally observing you, Anonymous, for a long time. Reports of a stranger traveling across my lands, helping everypony and asking for nothing in return are not common."

                                            "I only did what I could as thanks for accepting me in your land. You did not need to bother yourself with me."

                                            >"Perhaps I didn't, but when I first saw you, I felt something... wrong. I needed to make sure you're not a threat."

                                            "And?"

                                            >She lowers her head. "I was only projecting my own worries on you. Your actions are pure, and yet you need to change before it's too late."

                                            "I can't do that. I'm sorry, Princess. You must understand, there's no other way forward for me."

                                            >"That's just it -- *you* won't survive living like this. My ponies only see what you let them see, but you're a specter, a shadow of who you should be."

                                            >She takes a step forward, raising a hoof accusingly. In a trembling voice, she says, "You're slowly killing yourself, Anonymous, and I won't let that happen again to anyone I can see, pony or not."

                                            >You consider her words in silence, trying to think of a counterargument.

                                            >It's true that you can't remember a single thing that happened in the last decade.

                                            >But it's what you wanted, isn't it?

                                            >You can't stop helping ponies now, lest you'd like to be deemed a hypocrite by your own consciousness.

                                            >When you finally raise your eyes to meet Celestia's gaze, you remember what you've seen in them a moment ago.

                                            "I think I found a compromise that you'd find acceptable. To make it happen, I'll have to ask you for something nopony else can do."

                                            >"What is it? After everything you've done for my ponies, I promise I'll help you in whatever way I can, unless it puts my other subjects in danger."

                                            "Oh, you don't have to worry about that. All I need is a permanent residence in your palace."

                                            ...

                                            >You've been making steady progress.

                                            >Both of you.

                                            >There was no end to the gossip of the greedy ravens calling themselves "nobility".

                                            >You didn't care about them at all.

                                            >You know you'll outlive them, as you did the previous six generations of their kind.

                                            >But, for the first time in your life, you don't consider it a curse.

                                            >After all, you've found yourself a new purpose, one that nopony else could realize.

                                            >Finally, the four nearby guards start opening the large oaken doors to the throne room.

                                            >Princess Celestia strolls out in full regalia.

                                            >When she sees you, she teleports her tiara and necklace back to her room.

                                            >"I'm sorry you had to wait; land ownership debates are truly the silliest cases that I get to oversee. Ninety-five percent of Equestria is uninhabited, yet they argue and quarrel about the borders between their estates."

                                            >She casts an irritated look at the gathering of richly dressed unicorns still arguing beneath her throne.

                                            "I know. That's one of the many things I don't envy you, Celestia."

                                            >"You know that I could get you a seat somewhere near my throne? I can't promise it'll be a fruitful time, but at least it'll make it less boring for once."

                                            "I'm afraid I'll have to refuse. They're this close to getting an aneurysm whenever they see us in public."

                                            >"Right, right." She sniggers in a distinctly unprincessly fashion.

                                            "Sorry to ruin the mood, but have you decided how to name the village next to the Everfree?"

                                            >"Not yet. I still have a lot of time before I need to direct some settlers there."

                                            "I suggest naming it 'Ponyville'."

                                            >"Ponyville? Does the name mean anything to you, Anon?"

                                            "I'm not sure, not anymore." You scratch your head. "But I think it was the place I was looking for when I arrived."

                                            >"I can't let my ponies live in a place with such a ridiculous name! Ponyville, really," she adds with a smile.

                                            "You can blame it on me. It'd make for a fine footnote in history books.

                                            >"And besides, it'll be founded five centuries from now! Who knows how the ponies will name their towns then, or if--"

                                            >She stops herself, eyes locked on a point on your head, and a pained expression instantly appears on her face.

                                            >You look at your reflection on the marble wall.

                                            >A cold realization that you've finally fucked up forms in your mind.

                                            >With a quick tug of your newfound magic, you pluck the gray strand of hair.

                                            "Come on, Celestia, the theater play won't wait for nopony, not even you."

                                            ...

                                            >Later that day, you close the door to your study.

                                            >It's truly illuminating how much one can achieve with access to all of the kingdom's wisdom and a few centuries of work.

                                            >Still, you're no closer to achieving your true goal than you were when you started.

                                            >No, that's not true.

                                            >You *know* that there are no reliable ways to prolong your life.

                                            >Not even the fifteen decades you've spent practicing magic under Celestia's mentorship amounted to anything.

                                            >You could give the old Starswirl a run for his money in a magic competition, but none of those spells would buy you even a single extra year of life.

                                            >It's not that you're afraid of death; far from it.

                                            >Sure, you've come to love your life at Celestia's side, but you have no reason to complain.

                                            >And hell, perhaps the advice you've given her might actually help with setting her sister free.

                                            >You certainly believe she'll succeed.

                                            >Even if you won't be there to see it, Celestia deserves somepony who'll support her through the long millennia ahead.

                                            >You can't forget the gray strand of hair.

                                            >You've been plucking them every morning to prevent her from worrying about you, but lately there's been more and more of them.

                                            "I can't leave her all alone for another five hundred years. I can't do that."

                                            >You sigh and carefully pick up a framed painting of a workshop sitting on your desk.

                                            >On its backside, hidden inside the frame, you find a small silver key.

                                            >It opens a hidden compartment behind your bookshelf.

                                            >Only one book rests there.

                                            >Its title sends a chill down your spine.

                                            >Written by the mad unicorn king of the past, it contains only the blackest of sorceries.

                                            >If Celestia knew about its existence, she'd surely burn it down.

                                            >Your hands shake as you search for the correct spell.

                                            "I'm sorry, but there's no other way."

                                            >After a few minutes that seem to stretch into hours, you find it.

                                            >A spell that, when complete, grants its user immortality in exchange for his body.

                                            >Even if someone were to survive the procedure, his soul would be irreversibly tainted pure black.

                                            >You'll only have one shot at it.

                                            "I'll be back as soon as I find out how to make myself a new shell."

                                            >If your calculations are correct, there should be plenty of idle magic waiting for you.

                                            >You focus on the spell and prepare a second one in the back of your mind.

                                            >Pushing all worries aside, you release the cursed magic.

                                            >All light leaves the room, throwing you into a well of darkness.

                                            >You can feel the searing touch of the curse melt your limbs and attempt to grasp your soul.

                                            >Gritting your teeth, forcing yourself to stay awake despite the pain, you bid your time.

                                            >The disgusting darkness becomes too much to bear.

                                            >You release the second spell.

                                            >The doors to your room are flung open with enough force to shatter them into splinters.


                                            >Sensing something terrible, you rush to Anon's chamber.

                                            >In the blink of an eye, you teleport three times, leaving you right outside the door.

                                            >Something dark and disgusting is happening inside.

                                            >It's the same feeling you felt when you first saw Anon's face.

                                            >Only this time, it's hundreds of times more intense.

                                            "Please, hold in there!"

                                            >You shout and charge a blast of cleansing magic.

                                            >Whatever it is that found its way into the castle, it's not to be taken lightly.

                                            >You destroy the door and blindly jump inside, ignoring all safety precautions.

                                            >But you are too late, as you were on the day Luna let the darkness into her.

                                            >The spell inside has been stopped, but not by your own magic.

                                            >No, you could feel his thoughts floating in the room before he disappeared.

                                            >Anon, in his last moments, flung his immortal soul into the past.

                                            >With nothing to burn, the cursed flame died on its own.

                                            >You collapse on the floor and let the tears flow as they wish.

                                            >But that's nothing compared to the nightmares you know you'll have.

                                            >You try to remember all the good moments you've spent with Anon, but you can't forget his last thoughts.

                                            >"Yesss... Crystalsss..."