Extinguished

Dear friend.

I must confess you seem sad. It’s an impression I’ve had for a while now, you could say—something I noticed in your gaze. I didn’t want to say anything at first. Honestly, I told myself I imagined it.

Why would you be sad? You who knows all, from how things began to how they will end. Or how most things will end. My fate still lies in your bony hands, and if you are sad as you seem to be, I must admit that does not bode well for your side of our wager.

But you’ve been kind to me. Indulged me. And I am remiss to upset you, so instead, I’ll ask of you a simple request:

Don’t be sad.

Things end, sooner or later. They do! Either with a whisper or a bang, but they end and wither and die, giving way for something entirely new. A new life. A new path.

Two new relationships, perhaps, meaningful in their own way.

Dear friend, you seem confused? You’re wondering why I’m telling you this, aren’t you? Why, when the interweaving thread of my relationship with Twilight is my bargaining chip, am I telling you that you shouldn’t be sad it’s over?

To answer that, I’d like to tell you a story. A story within the grand story I’ve been weaving so far.

A moment, really, that began on our little island on the lake, the two of us sitting cross-legged and facing each other under the starry sky.

“Come on,” she said, as I frowned at my empty hands, cupped before me. “You can do it. Concentrate.”

“I’m trying, Twilight.”

“Try harder.”

I let out a whine and fell onto my back, my arms spreading out on the picnic mat. “I can’t!” I complained. “And I’m tired! We’ve been at this for hours, Twilight!”

“Literally fifteen minutes.”

“Hours!” I restated, sitting back up. “I can’t do this! I can’t! Magic isn’t for me. I promise you that very talented people have tried to teach me before to absolutely zero success.”

“Well, they weren’t me,” she replied, her intensity as blinding as the magic flame she was convinced I’d be able to conjure. “You can already do basic magic, Rarity. You just need training and guidance.”

“I’ve had that, Twilight. I told you. I had my teacher tell me point blank that perhaps I’m meant for better things,” I said, and I’ll admit I couldn’t hide my resentment and annoyance. “We’re wasting time, and I’ll have you know I’m not any less cold now than I was fifteen minutes ago when you insisted on this charade.”

She winced. “Sorry.”

An awkward silence settled between us, broken only when I glanced her way and was betrayed by my inability not to bend myself backward trying to please her. I turned around towards the lake, making sure to sigh very audibly before looking back at her.

“Fine. I’ll try one last time. But just one!”

Her brilliant smile returned immediately, sparkling as much as her eyes. She was so excited! That’s what Twilight did, wasn’t it? They said I was the passionate one, but so was she, and in so many ways, much more than I ever was.

Twilight Sparkle overflowed with life.

I cupped my hands together, sighing deeply. “So. I think the spell, and then I just do it. Yes?”

“No,” she said, as annoyed as she was amused. “I mean. Yes, technically, but remember, there’s a lot more to that. Magic is internal. It’s tuned to your psyche. You can’t ‘just do it.’ You have to feel it. If your heart is in it, it will happen. I promise.”

I mulled that over a minute before dropping my hands to my lap and fixing her with my stare.

“Can you do it first? I’d like to see you do it before I try again.”

“Oh! Of course, yes.” She cleared her throat, eager to assist. “Right. Pay attention. And don’t forget—”

“Your heart has to be in it, yes, yes.”

She offered a quick nod, took a breath, and not even a moment later, a brilliant, luminous fire orb floated over her cupped hands, illuminating and warming us both.

“There,” she said, gently. Proud. “Easy.”

I had half a mind to point out that was easy for her to say, but I instead held my tongue and fixed my sights on the orb. How the flames moved about, delicate red waves filled with her essence.

“Can you keep it there? Just for a minute.”

She seemed confused but complied nevertheless, holding it up for me to see. I bit on my lip, thinking and thinking and thinking, until I moved forward, sitting up on my knees.

“Rarity?” she asked, thrown off.

I didn’t reply. Instead, I moved my hands forwards and rested them on hers, the back of my hands fitting perfectly in her palms. A glance her way showed me she had absolutely no idea what I was doing, but she didn’t say a word. She was transfixed, curious as she always was, only for her eyes to widen when I focused and pulled my hands back, the orb floating along with them until I held it before me.

“There,” I said, gently. Proud. “Easy.”

“Wha—” She stared at me—excited, I’m sure—but too baffled to show it, blinking from my hands to hers. “How did you—? But—? What?”

“Why are you so surprised it worked? You said it yourself.” I tilted my head to the side. “Your heart had to be in it, no?”

What luck I had, holding a light that allowed me to see her blush.

“Well?” I asked, innocently.

“Well. Uhm. There you go,” she said lamely, her blush growing in unison with my grin. “Easy. I’m not even sure how you did that. But. Right.”

I frowned. “Mmm. I’m sorry, Twilight. That was thoughtless of me. You should be able to try, too!”

I moved my left hand away, the orb still floating above it, and then I directed my attention towards my right hand, my smitten heart drowning in its own love for Twilight. A heart that in more ways than one was Twilight’s as well.

I took a breath, and what an almost delirious rush I felt at the sound of Twilight’s gasp when a… a granted smaller but still flaming red luminous orb appeared over my hand. Despite my desire to remain calm, I couldn’t help a nervous, excited giggle, intensified when Twilight immediately crawled up to me, delighted.

“You did it!” she exclaimed, and I soaked up her pride. “You did it, Rarity! You did it!”

“Ah ah ah,” I interrupted, moving my hand towards her. “Your turn, I think.”

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering back and forth between my own eyes and my hand until finally, her gaze honed in on the orb, the intensity as burning as the flames.

With delicate precision, she moved her hand forward, resting it against my palm as I had earlier done. We stayed there a second or two, and when she took her hand back, my magic heart followed along.

And there we sat, the two of us holding each other’s hearts, silly smitten grins plastered on our faces. I felt so warm. So happy. It was as if as long as that moment remained, I would live in bliss for the rest of eternity.

And then it was over. Whatever miracle I had pulled ceased, and we were both startled when the orb I was holding blinked out of existence, Twilight’s following in short order upon losing her focus.

We sat there in the darkness, at a loss for words, and a tremendous crashing sadness suddenly overcame me. Something beautiful had just died before me, gone in an instant, and even though I forced the feelings away minutes later… in that moment…

I was as sad as you look, dear friend.

Because it was over.

And yet, despite the pain, I’m still glad that it happened.