For the Sky (DISCONTINUED)

Prologue

The evening breeze gently toyed with Leiah's feathers as she stood on the balcony, which in turn stood high above everything else, overlooking the humble kingdom. Everything was awash in a warm glow - an illusion of peace. 

"I thought I'd find you here, princess," a voice sounded behind her and the young filly spun around. 

Despite having witnessed a spectacle of the heavens - the sun being swallowed by the horizon - Leiah did not look nearly as awestruck as one would have expected. "Please tell me he's going to come back, Barty... please." 

The other could only nervously shuffle his wings. A sparse ray of light shined off his thick, round glasses, hiding any emotion his eyes may have projected. "I would feel ashamed if I were to lie to you," Bartholomew said softly. 

The princess's eyes grew wide in shock. Her eyes had already been filling with tears but now the brink was beginning to be reached. "No," she shook her little head, her knees wobbling. "No, no, no! They have to come back! Didn't the arms master said there was all the chance in the world of them coming back unscathed?! Didn't mother say that father was the most fantastic warrior that ever graced these lands?!" 

"All people have to fall some day, Leiah," the older pegasus sighed. Using her name rather than a formal title slightly touched the young princess, making her shiver at his words. "Whether we fall from our own accord or someone tips us over - no one can remain standing forever." 

"But how can you be sure that he's gone?" Leiah began to wail. Bartholomew scrutinized the young girl. She was just a child. Just a small, innocent child.  Always sickly, always on the verge of tears, always asking him all of these questions. 

"I am only the librarian, I cannot say anything for certain," he bowed his head. A smile almost crept into her trembling lips. "Do not let my words give you hope," in his voice there was a deep, solemn warning. "We haven't yet seen this war come into our lands, but with the king gone for this long, there's no question of if, there's only a question of when." 

The filly collapsed to the ground, as she often did. She let her small, fuzz-covered wings sprawl out unceremoniously around her and pressed her muzzle into the finely-polished marble of the balcony. "If everybody has to fall one day," she coughed through her sobs, unable to control her own breathing. "Then I'm going to make whoever made my father fall fall so hard they'll never get back up. Ever!" 

Bartholomew furrowed his brow but said nothing. There was little else to be said. An admirable sentiment - even if it came from a child. If only she lives long enough to harbor it...