Nod Your Head To The Beat Of Death

Take Your Last Eternal Breath

ess Cadance climbed a staircase that wasn't anywhere, but led where she wanted to go.

Each upcoming step imposed upon her the tyranny of time, and the previous step was joyous release.

She had forgotten what seemed like ages ago why she was climbing.

But she knew she had to climb. For reasons that escaped her, she needed to climb.

A quick glance to the left impressed upon her the tapestry of astronomy, which destroyed the meaning of up. Cadance focused her gaze forward to reaffirm her direction.

She had to go up.

Up past Twilight, previous ward and current friend.

Up past Shining Armor, current love and devoted friend.

Up even past Flurry Heart, her current devotion and future friend.

But is there a future beyond the staircase in front of her? She does not know.

All she knows is that her calves ache and each forever moment drives her stir-crazy. Her only solace is that each forever only lasts a moment.

An eternity of pain that ends when her hoof touches ground, then reignites as she lifts her hoof to climb the next stair.

Climb.

Does she know where the stairs end? Does she know why she climbs?

She knows to stop climbing is to embrace death.

To stop climbing is to fail those who look up to her.

Her love, Shining Armor.

Her daughter, Flurry Heart.

Her subjects, the Crystal Ponies.

Her aunt, Celestia.

And her friend, Twilight.

Perhaps Twilight was at the top of the staircase, to soothe her pain and let her rest.

The staircase still did not end.

For days, for weeks, for years she had been rising. Her legs threatened to tear themselves to shreds, her back warned of seizure. Her heart warned of loss.

Yet she still climbed.

What direction was there to go but up? Going down wasn't an option. Princess Cadance needed to see the top of the staircase, if only because she had spent so long climbing it.

So she kept at it.

Step after step, beat after beat, breath after breath.

Surely all of this toil would reap reward.

Surely, she told herself as her calves burned and her neck strained.

Surely its meaning would reveal itself at the end of the labor.

Surely her suffering has meaning.

Perhaps her daughter had developed into a full-grown mare, her father beating off suitors with a stick.

She chuckled ruefully at the thought. Her Shining, with flecks of grey marring his lustrous mane. Lucky to be subject to the ravages of time.

Time had lost all meaning on this perditious staircase.

No landings, no turns, only merciless up to go.

Princess Cadance wished time was on her side, tearing her apart like a pack of wolves as opposed to the dictatorial youth it imposed upon her.